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Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "There was a certain faction of the Church that for various reasons the Debau Company could not easily defy, and this faction brought them an offer. 'Among the pagan stories we've gone into the mountains to investigate,' they said, 'there are some that are unlike the more absurd tales. They have shape and truth. And if that's so, then you merchants who deal in everything on this earth, you should be able to go and find the shape and truth of this.'"
That he'd ventured to say it that way might well have been meant to imply that he was no friend of the Church himself.
"Just as we find alchemy mysterious and thus assume that alchemists can work miracles, it seems the men of the Church find our trading mysterious and wanting in virtue—and thus mistakenly think we can accomplish anything. But often in business there are requests we can't refuse. And those always flow from high to low."
"You're right about that," said Lawrence, at which Reynolds nodded, satisfied.
From the emperor to the palace merchant, from the palace merchant to the trade company he controlled, from the company to the branch, and from the branch manager to the commoner merchants at the bottom.
It was not rare for even goods respectfully presented to the emperor to have their origins with merchants who scraped and fought for every last copper coin.
Orders came from the top down, and goods flowed from the bottom up, and never the opposite.
"And our company is situated here at the bottom of the Roam River, which is ruled over by the great river spirit Roam. We must meet whatever comes down the river, whatever happens. Truly—"
Reynolds's sagging cheeks jiggled as though they'd sagged all along just waiting for this day, this moment.
"—We must, no matter the cost."
Lawrence nodded, looking down at the box that was so packed with bones on the desk.
Normally, even when a trading company somewhere was searching for goods, they would not be sent so very many.
But be they the bones of dog, cat, sheep, cow, or swine, the fact that this company had collected so many was because everybody in this town knew that the Jean Company was not conducting sensible business.
For it to be sensible business, someone would have had to be paying a fair price for sensible goods.
But if it was not sensible business, it was possible that money would be paid for even nonsensical goods.
And there existed the strong possibility that the Jean Company, and the Debau Company above them, might pay money for worthless bones if they thought the clergy who had given the original order would be satisfied.
And there were bones all over the place.
Making a small bet on that possibility was not a bad bet at all.
The most inconvenienced party was the Jean Company, who wound up playing bookmaker to those bets.
"And so it turned into quite a commotion, because some were saying that if the real bones were found, they would be paid a thousand, two thousand lumione for them."
"So—" It was Col who spoke up as Reynolds paused and smiled self-deprecatingly. "—So, did you find the bones?"
Reynolds's eyes, like pure glass beads beneath his drooping lids, showed no emotion but shifted for just a moment.
The question was a naive one and a breach of merchant conversation etiquette.
But those glassy eyes soon shifted back to ones befitting an easygoing shopkeeper, content to sit behind his desk and wait for customers as he watched his chickens peck at the floor.
A merchant had no call to turn angry at a naive question. Rather than show anger, he would treat the question appropriately.
Which meant that the merchant talk was now over.
"Heh. If I had, I'd be sitting at a golden desk right about now. Of course, at the time, rumors that I'd already found the bones and made a huge profit were flying around left and right, and I was attacked who knows how many times. But a little thought made it obvious. Just who had ever paid that much gold coin for something without attracting the attention of others?"
| If this company had been paid a thousand gold coins, anybody doing business would notice the movement of money immediately.
It was the same as moving a mountain—even if you did it in the dead of night, people were going to notice come morning.
It was not something you could hide.
Col seemed to have realized that.
He nodded, crestfallen, but thanking Reynolds for answering his question.
That moment, Reynolds's eyes widened in surprise—Lawrence was laughing.
Even if the question itself had been a terrible breach of merchant etiquette, Col's polite thanks for the answer showed the kind of manners that most apprentices failed to remember even after a sound whipping.
He might have been sitting reluctantly behind the desk of his trading company, but Reynolds had a good merchant's eye; there was no doubt about that.
So he turned that merchant's eye to Lawrence.
"You've got yourself a fine apprentice there, Mr. Lawrence."
The eye of a hawk who's spotted its prey.
Surely that was no exaggeration.
"He's not my apprentice."
"Surely—!" said Reynolds, shocked, as though he simply could not believe it. When his gaze fell to Col, Lawrence immediately spoke.
"He's a future scholar of Church law. If I said he was my apprentice, I'd never be able to pass through the gates of Heaven."
Reynolds seemed not to know what sort of expression to make.
If Lawrence could ever surprise Holo enough for her to make that face, he was sure he would be able to grab her reins on the spot.
So surprised was Reynolds that he slapped his own forehead, totally at a loss. "Hrrrm! Born in the northlands, a future Church law scholar, and chasing tales of the god of his hometown...Well, I certainly see why that wolf woman would put her trust in a merchant like you. You seem like you're on a very complicated—and truly enviable—journey."
For merchants, who were keenly aware of human connections and influence, a future Church law scholar was like a golden egg—one whose eventual value could be roughly guessed based on his current manners and personality.
You'd always want to invest in someone whose future was bright.
The notion radiated off of Reynolds, but his gaze suddenly shifted to Holo and then to Lawrence. "So then, is this one from a famous convent somewhere?"
Holo, too, would have noticed the man's predatory, hawklike gaze on Col.
But Reynolds hadn't used that gaze on Holo.
He was asking Lawrence the question either because he felt bad about ignoring Holo or he simply wanted to make small talk.
But there was no chance that Holo was going to be satisfied with such slight treatment.
So then, how best to raise her worth?
That was one calculation she could perform as fast as any merchant.
No sooner had Holo heard Reynolds's words than she hid herself behind Lawrence, clutching his clothes.
As though she were a shy maiden, fearful of strangers. As though she were claiming Lawrence as her guardian.
If merchants coveted even the possessions of the gods, then surely it was their nature to covet the things of other humans all the more.
The effect was perfect.
"Bwa-ha-ha-ha!" Reynolds burst out laughing, and Lawrence realized that Holo was peering out from behind him with a malicious smile on her face.
The ineffable battle of wits had two or three layers now.
Reynolds's hearty laughter came from his realization that he had been completely fooled. "What fine guests you all are! What say you to this? It'll be midday soon. Shall we all take a meal in celebration of our meeting?"
Lawrence, for his part, was quite happy with the proposal. Conversation with Reynolds was entirely stimulating. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd love to."
"What wonderful fortune. I'll summon one of my men to prepare some food. However"—here Reynolds's gaze moved behind Lawrence to the Jean Company loading dock—"to do that I'll need a single healthy chicken, but today it seems there isn't a chicken to be found."
"Ah!" exclaimed Col, at which Holo looked askance.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | If this company had been paid a thousand gold coins, anybody doing business would notice the movement of money immediately.
It was the same as moving a mountain—even if you did it in the dead of night, people were going to notice come morning.
It was not something you could hide.
Col seemed to have realized that.
He nodded, crestfallen, but thanking Reynolds for answering his question.
That moment, Reynolds's eyes widened in surprise—Lawrence was laughing.
Even if the question itself had been a terrible breach of merchant etiquette, Col's polite thanks for the answer showed the kind of manners that most apprentices failed to remember even after a sound whipping.
He might have been sitting reluctantly behind the desk of his trading company, but Reynolds had a good merchant's eye; there was no doubt about that.
So he turned that merchant's eye to Lawrence.
"You've got yourself a fine apprentice there, Mr. Lawrence."
The eye of a hawk who's spotted its prey.
Surely that was no exaggeration.
"He's not my apprentice."
"Surely—!" said Reynolds, shocked, as though he simply could not believe it. When his gaze fell to Col, Lawrence immediately spoke.
"He's a future scholar of Church law. If I said he was my apprentice, I'd never be able to pass through the gates of Heaven."
Reynolds seemed not to know what sort of expression to make.
If Lawrence could ever surprise Holo enough for her to make that face, he was sure he would be able to grab her reins on the spot.
So surprised was Reynolds that he slapped his own forehead, totally at a loss. "Hrrrm! Born in the northlands, a future Church law scholar, and chasing tales of the god of his hometown...Well, I certainly see why that wolf woman would put her trust in a merchant like you. You seem like you're on a very complicated—and truly enviable—journey."
For merchants, who were keenly aware of human connections and influence, a future Church law scholar was like a golden egg—one whose eventual value could be roughly guessed based on his current manners and personality.
You'd always want to invest in someone whose future was bright.
The notion radiated off of Reynolds, but his gaze suddenly shifted to Holo and then to Lawrence. "So then, is this one from a famous convent somewhere?"
Holo, too, would have noticed the man's predatory, hawklike gaze on Col.
But Reynolds hadn't used that gaze on Holo.
He was asking Lawrence the question either because he felt bad about ignoring Holo or he simply wanted to make small talk.
But there was no chance that Holo was going to be satisfied with such slight treatment.
So then, how best to raise her worth?
That was one calculation she could perform as fast as any merchant.
No sooner had Holo heard Reynolds's words than she hid herself behind Lawrence, clutching his clothes.
As though she were a shy maiden, fearful of strangers. As though she were claiming Lawrence as her guardian.
If merchants coveted even the possessions of the gods, then surely it was their nature to covet the things of other humans all the more.
The effect was perfect.
"Bwa-ha-ha-ha!" Reynolds burst out laughing, and Lawrence realized that Holo was peering out from behind him with a malicious smile on her face.
The ineffable battle of wits had two or three layers now.
Reynolds's hearty laughter came from his realization that he had been completely fooled. "What fine guests you all are! What say you to this? It'll be midday soon. Shall we all take a meal in celebration of our meeting?"
Lawrence, for his part, was quite happy with the proposal. Conversation with Reynolds was entirely stimulating. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd love to."
"What wonderful fortune. I'll summon one of my men to prepare some food. However"—here Reynolds's gaze moved behind Lawrence to the Jean Company loading dock—"to do that I'll need a single healthy chicken, but today it seems there isn't a chicken to be found."
"Ah!" exclaimed Col, at which Holo looked askance.
| "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to call over my neighbors for dinner," said Reynolds with an impish, childlike smile, which Col flailed at and Holo reluctantly went to capture a chicken.
Chicken and grape wine.
Bread and salt were necessary to live, but chicken and wine were probably two of the things necessary to truly enjoy life.
And all the more so when they were an unexpected treat.
Holo dug in before even hearing Reynolds's "Please, eat," while Col ate with the proper Church manners expected of a future scholar of law.
Col was surely the only one impressed with how grand Reynolds was to treat them to such a feast after they had so casually asked him about the wolf remains.
There at the meal table, amid the easy small talk, he told them about the great commotion two years earlier, when tales of the bones were at high tide, and what happened after that.
But merchants were always looking for payment.
Lawrence was worried about that payment, but it became clear only when they were about to part ways.
Reynolds sought Lawrence's handshake. "My regards to Eve Bolan." He held Lawrence's hand firmly.
His eye was every bit that of a shrewd merchant.
Perhaps he wanted them to convey to her that he had told her customers all about the wolf remains and treated them to a good meal besides.
Perhaps he did it to strengthen his ties to Eve, thereby increasing his own business.
But while Reynolds's Jean Company might have looked shabby, it should have already been well connected to the Debau Company and its mining profits.
It was possible that Reynolds's experience with Eve had been so auspicious that he did not have very much to gain.
Or perhaps Eve was just that influential.
There were many things to worry about, but Lawrence had to be thankful for the kindness they were shown.
Lawrence returned Reynolds's grasp heartily, then put the Jean Company behind him.
While Reynolds had been reluctant to get out of his chair when they had arrived, now that they were leaving, he saw them off from beneath the trading house's eaves.
"Now, then," Lawrence murmured to himself.
He had easily achieved his goal.
But he could not deny that in all of his conversation with Reynolds, something in the twists and turns failed to add up.
The state of the Jean Company, the moment when Lawrence had given Reynolds the letter he had gotten from Eve, and even Reynolds's actions just a moment ago, when they were parting ways.
None of that led directly to the tale of the wolf remains, but the actions of merchants were often connected in surprising ways.
Deep in contemplation, Lawrence stroked his beard lightly.
"So, what shall we do?" His thoughts were interrupted by Holo.
And the moment he looked at Holo's face, he thought of the poultry they had been treated to not long ago.
The meal in question had seen the chicken thighs boiled, then covered in a sauce made from vinegar, a touch of sweet herbs, and crushed mustard seed—a true delicacy.
As to how magnificent it had actually been—well, there was still a fragment of the sweet herbs stuck to the corner of Holo's mouth.
Lawrence flicked it off with a finger, and Holo closed one eye in irritation.
But Lawrence soon realized that she was not trying to hide embarrassment at being treated like a child.
Holo had looked away and given Col a quick wink.
Col, while surprised, also looked impressed and nodded. Lawrence watched all this and sighed.
Evidently Holo had put Col to a bet as to whether Lawrence would brush the herb crumb off her mouth.
"Yes...what, indeed," Lawrence murmured. There was no profit in her game. Lawrence pretended not to notice the wink.
"He told us everything a lot more easily than I was expecting. It's kind of disappointing, isn't it?"
"Oh?"
"I was sure he'd try to hide more from us," said Col.
At Col's words, it was now Lawrence's turn to shoot Holo a quick glance.
Their gazes met for a moment, and they both looked away quickly.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to call over my neighbors for dinner," said Reynolds with an impish, childlike smile, which Col flailed at and Holo reluctantly went to capture a chicken.
Chicken and grape wine.
Bread and salt were necessary to live, but chicken and wine were probably two of the things necessary to truly enjoy life.
And all the more so when they were an unexpected treat.
Holo dug in before even hearing Reynolds's "Please, eat," while Col ate with the proper Church manners expected of a future scholar of law.
Col was surely the only one impressed with how grand Reynolds was to treat them to such a feast after they had so casually asked him about the wolf remains.
There at the meal table, amid the easy small talk, he told them about the great commotion two years earlier, when tales of the bones were at high tide, and what happened after that.
But merchants were always looking for payment.
Lawrence was worried about that payment, but it became clear only when they were about to part ways.
Reynolds sought Lawrence's handshake. "My regards to Eve Bolan." He held Lawrence's hand firmly.
His eye was every bit that of a shrewd merchant.
Perhaps he wanted them to convey to her that he had told her customers all about the wolf remains and treated them to a good meal besides.
Perhaps he did it to strengthen his ties to Eve, thereby increasing his own business.
But while Reynolds's Jean Company might have looked shabby, it should have already been well connected to the Debau Company and its mining profits.
It was possible that Reynolds's experience with Eve had been so auspicious that he did not have very much to gain.
Or perhaps Eve was just that influential.
There were many things to worry about, but Lawrence had to be thankful for the kindness they were shown.
Lawrence returned Reynolds's grasp heartily, then put the Jean Company behind him.
While Reynolds had been reluctant to get out of his chair when they had arrived, now that they were leaving, he saw them off from beneath the trading house's eaves.
"Now, then," Lawrence murmured to himself.
He had easily achieved his goal.
But he could not deny that in all of his conversation with Reynolds, something in the twists and turns failed to add up.
The state of the Jean Company, the moment when Lawrence had given Reynolds the letter he had gotten from Eve, and even Reynolds's actions just a moment ago, when they were parting ways.
None of that led directly to the tale of the wolf remains, but the actions of merchants were often connected in surprising ways.
Deep in contemplation, Lawrence stroked his beard lightly.
"So, what shall we do?" His thoughts were interrupted by Holo.
And the moment he looked at Holo's face, he thought of the poultry they had been treated to not long ago.
The meal in question had seen the chicken thighs boiled, then covered in a sauce made from vinegar, a touch of sweet herbs, and crushed mustard seed—a true delicacy.
As to how magnificent it had actually been—well, there was still a fragment of the sweet herbs stuck to the corner of Holo's mouth.
Lawrence flicked it off with a finger, and Holo closed one eye in irritation.
But Lawrence soon realized that she was not trying to hide embarrassment at being treated like a child.
Holo had looked away and given Col a quick wink.
Col, while surprised, also looked impressed and nodded. Lawrence watched all this and sighed.
Evidently Holo had put Col to a bet as to whether Lawrence would brush the herb crumb off her mouth.
"Yes...what, indeed," Lawrence murmured. There was no profit in her game. Lawrence pretended not to notice the wink.
"He told us everything a lot more easily than I was expecting. It's kind of disappointing, isn't it?"
"Oh?"
"I was sure he'd try to hide more from us," said Col.
At Col's words, it was now Lawrence's turn to shoot Holo a quick glance.
Their gazes met for a moment, and they both looked away quickly.
| Lawrence chose his words and spoke. "...Yes, well. We've confirmed that the Church believed the story from Rupi to be true, which means that there was something for them to believe in. Which is a big step forward."
Col nodded several times, his face serious.
However, if Holo was feeling something ominous from Reynolds's words and actions, then things might not be so simple.
As the ensuing question would be hard to answer, Lawrence refrained from mentioning this to Col.
Col was simply too kind.
Even for someone as cynical as Holo, talking about her homeland was a dangerous proposition.
It would be best to wait for the right moment and explain things carefully.
"But there is one unfortunate thing."
"...?" Col looked up at Lawrence, his head cocked in a question.
"Since we learned what we needed to know so easily, it looks like we won't need to use our trump card."
"Ah...you mean about the copper coins?"
Fifty-seven boxes packed with copper coins coming down the river had—after crossing the sea from the Jean Company—become sixty boxes, which was quite mysterious.
Lawrence suspected that this might be a vulnerable spot for the Jean Company.
If the Jean Company had tried to hide the story of the wolf remains, he could have used it to shake them down, and he had explained as much to Col.
However, because he had assumed that the simple fact of the box count not adding up would be sufficient leverage on the Jean Company, Lawrence still had not heard the reason of the discrepancy from Col.
Lawrence had not, of course, figured it out on his own.
"Well, if there's no reason to use it, you can just tell me once our journey's over, by way of thanks."
Col, who had understood the reason all by himself, nodded, then gave a satisfied smile.
"Now then, as far as this all goes, about all we can do is go back to Eve and thank her, gathering some information along the way. And we shouldn't hurry too much. We don't want to be suspected of anything."
"...Er, so...because if there's anyone seriously following us, we'll wind up making them think we're up to something, right?"
The boy's constant studiousness was certainly admirable.
Lawrence nodded. "Reynolds and Eve didn't mind telling us all about the wolf remains because they've both thought the whole thing through and decided it's nonsense. If they hear anything that gives it the ring of truth, they'll both shut their mouths on the spot."
"So if we keep searching for the tale too seriously, they'll start to wonder if we've discovered a key that proves the story is true."
And, of course, the key that proved the story was true was none other than Holo's existence.
Col was well aware of that as he held up his right index finger, with an expression on his face as if he were a chef explaining that a dish's secret ingredient was just a dash of fresh herbs.
Or like a puppy proudly performing a trick he had just learned.
But he did not seem cheeky or arrogant, probably because Col himself was affecting the proud attitude purposefully.
He was just genuinely friendly.
"But the irony is that we can ask about it so easily because nobody believes it's true. Even though we're asking so we can figure out the truth."
"It's also a question of faith. You have to have the courage to believe you're right even when everyone around you says you're wrong."
Col nodded gravely.
"So this would be one way to put that into practice: If a priest asks God if the people can be saved and gets no reply, it's not because God is being careless, but rather the question is...?"
The future Church law scholar rang like a cast bell when struck. "The question's obvious is the reason."
This kind of calm, pleasant intellectual discussion was a bit different from what he had with Holo.
Lawrence had heard that true scholars had conversations like this from morning till night, and he felt like he understood why.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence chose his words and spoke. "...Yes, well. We've confirmed that the Church believed the story from Rupi to be true, which means that there was something for them to believe in. Which is a big step forward."
Col nodded several times, his face serious.
However, if Holo was feeling something ominous from Reynolds's words and actions, then things might not be so simple.
As the ensuing question would be hard to answer, Lawrence refrained from mentioning this to Col.
Col was simply too kind.
Even for someone as cynical as Holo, talking about her homeland was a dangerous proposition.
It would be best to wait for the right moment and explain things carefully.
"But there is one unfortunate thing."
"...?" Col looked up at Lawrence, his head cocked in a question.
"Since we learned what we needed to know so easily, it looks like we won't need to use our trump card."
"Ah...you mean about the copper coins?"
Fifty-seven boxes packed with copper coins coming down the river had—after crossing the sea from the Jean Company—become sixty boxes, which was quite mysterious.
Lawrence suspected that this might be a vulnerable spot for the Jean Company.
If the Jean Company had tried to hide the story of the wolf remains, he could have used it to shake them down, and he had explained as much to Col.
However, because he had assumed that the simple fact of the box count not adding up would be sufficient leverage on the Jean Company, Lawrence still had not heard the reason of the discrepancy from Col.
Lawrence had not, of course, figured it out on his own.
"Well, if there's no reason to use it, you can just tell me once our journey's over, by way of thanks."
Col, who had understood the reason all by himself, nodded, then gave a satisfied smile.
"Now then, as far as this all goes, about all we can do is go back to Eve and thank her, gathering some information along the way. And we shouldn't hurry too much. We don't want to be suspected of anything."
"...Er, so...because if there's anyone seriously following us, we'll wind up making them think we're up to something, right?"
The boy's constant studiousness was certainly admirable.
Lawrence nodded. "Reynolds and Eve didn't mind telling us all about the wolf remains because they've both thought the whole thing through and decided it's nonsense. If they hear anything that gives it the ring of truth, they'll both shut their mouths on the spot."
"So if we keep searching for the tale too seriously, they'll start to wonder if we've discovered a key that proves the story is true."
And, of course, the key that proved the story was true was none other than Holo's existence.
Col was well aware of that as he held up his right index finger, with an expression on his face as if he were a chef explaining that a dish's secret ingredient was just a dash of fresh herbs.
Or like a puppy proudly performing a trick he had just learned.
But he did not seem cheeky or arrogant, probably because Col himself was affecting the proud attitude purposefully.
He was just genuinely friendly.
"But the irony is that we can ask about it so easily because nobody believes it's true. Even though we're asking so we can figure out the truth."
"It's also a question of faith. You have to have the courage to believe you're right even when everyone around you says you're wrong."
Col nodded gravely.
"So this would be one way to put that into practice: If a priest asks God if the people can be saved and gets no reply, it's not because God is being careless, but rather the question is...?"
The future Church law scholar rang like a cast bell when struck. "The question's obvious is the reason."
This kind of calm, pleasant intellectual discussion was a bit different from what he had with Holo.
Lawrence had heard that true scholars had conversations like this from morning till night, and he felt like he understood why.
| If they were to walk like this for another ten years, he was sure Col would become a dear friend.
When Lawrence thought on it, he started to look forward to the future in spite of himself.
But someone came between the two.
Someone who had been left out of the conversation—Holo.
"Seems like pleasant chat's happening right before me," she said, her face a bit annoyed.
Lawrence decided it was better not to try to analyze what that statement might mean.
"If there is no need to go straight back to that vixen's burrow, then I've a place I'd like to go."
"And that is?" asked Lawrence, and Holo pointed to the mouth of the river.
"That lively looking place."
It went without saying that she meant the marketplace on the delta.
Her tail was wagging beneath her robe, and she was probably anticipating eating something tasty.
From the stimulating intellectual conversation with Col, they had returned to the usual obvious topics.
Lawrence directed his eyes past Holo to Col.
Col nodded a little hesitantly.
About half of Holo's desire to go to the delta was for her own sake—the other half was for Col's.
It was difficult to weigh the merits of Col's intellectual conversation against Holo's frank obviousness—because Holo's words always concealed something else.
So Lawrence replied, hiding something in his words to Holo as well.
"You only ever think about food," he said as though at a loss, at which Holo's amber eyes rolled and her upper lip curled into a sneering smile.
"I am always thinking about you, as well," she said in a higher, flattering tone, clinging to Lawrence's arm.
Lawrence had forgotten to put an herb crumb in the corner of his own mouth, so this made them even.
Col's face turned red, and he seemed not to know where he should look.
Lawrence could not help feeling a little bit superior, but he also could not simply enjoy it.
As to why, that was because in exchange for her performance, Holo would be expecting compensation.
"That's because I am your food." Lawrence paid his price, which made Holo grin, her ears moving enough to nearly brush her hood back.
"So you'll loosen your purse strings a bit for me?"
Lawrence looked at Col.
"What do you think?" his gaze asked.
And when it came to this sort of verbal sparring, Col was able to answer as well as Holo. "I think you'll need to get a room."
"Yes, I do need some wine," said Lawrence, wrapping up Col's perfect joke.
The delta in the town of Kerube had a large reservoir in the center.
All sorts of fish, big and small, were kept in it, and occasionally groups of turtles or waterfowl would congregate there.
But no golden-haired poet would sit at the water's edge spinning rhyme, and the words spoken there were not verses of the place's surpassing beauty.
Because the fish in the reservoir swam in circles within nets and the turtles and waterfowl would eventually have their legs or mouths bound.
The words spoken at the waterfront were straightforward amounts and negotiations. The throats that shouted them were stout and strong, as were the hands that grabbed at the fish.
The people who came to the market to do business called the reservoir the spring of gold.
Kerube's delta market extended two hundred paces north from the reservoir, two hundred paces south, three hundred to the east, and four hundred to the west.
This extent had been decided in the distant past, and while it seemed the delta had plenty of space to accommodate the market, as far as Lawrence had heard or seen, it had never been expanded.
Which meant, of course, that the buildings were built to conserve land area.
The constant complaint about the overcrowding was that it was so bad you could see your neighbor's ledger.
No sooner had Lawrence and company arrived on the delta than Holo flattened her ears back.
It might have been a bit of a joke, but Lawrence didn't think it was necessarily for show.
No matter when you came, the largest market in the port town of Kerube possessed an unbelievable commotion.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | If they were to walk like this for another ten years, he was sure Col would become a dear friend.
When Lawrence thought on it, he started to look forward to the future in spite of himself.
But someone came between the two.
Someone who had been left out of the conversation—Holo.
"Seems like pleasant chat's happening right before me," she said, her face a bit annoyed.
Lawrence decided it was better not to try to analyze what that statement might mean.
"If there is no need to go straight back to that vixen's burrow, then I've a place I'd like to go."
"And that is?" asked Lawrence, and Holo pointed to the mouth of the river.
"That lively looking place."
It went without saying that she meant the marketplace on the delta.
Her tail was wagging beneath her robe, and she was probably anticipating eating something tasty.
From the stimulating intellectual conversation with Col, they had returned to the usual obvious topics.
Lawrence directed his eyes past Holo to Col.
Col nodded a little hesitantly.
About half of Holo's desire to go to the delta was for her own sake—the other half was for Col's.
It was difficult to weigh the merits of Col's intellectual conversation against Holo's frank obviousness—because Holo's words always concealed something else.
So Lawrence replied, hiding something in his words to Holo as well.
"You only ever think about food," he said as though at a loss, at which Holo's amber eyes rolled and her upper lip curled into a sneering smile.
"I am always thinking about you, as well," she said in a higher, flattering tone, clinging to Lawrence's arm.
Lawrence had forgotten to put an herb crumb in the corner of his own mouth, so this made them even.
Col's face turned red, and he seemed not to know where he should look.
Lawrence could not help feeling a little bit superior, but he also could not simply enjoy it.
As to why, that was because in exchange for her performance, Holo would be expecting compensation.
"That's because I am your food." Lawrence paid his price, which made Holo grin, her ears moving enough to nearly brush her hood back.
"So you'll loosen your purse strings a bit for me?"
Lawrence looked at Col.
"What do you think?" his gaze asked.
And when it came to this sort of verbal sparring, Col was able to answer as well as Holo. "I think you'll need to get a room."
"Yes, I do need some wine," said Lawrence, wrapping up Col's perfect joke.
The delta in the town of Kerube had a large reservoir in the center.
All sorts of fish, big and small, were kept in it, and occasionally groups of turtles or waterfowl would congregate there.
But no golden-haired poet would sit at the water's edge spinning rhyme, and the words spoken there were not verses of the place's surpassing beauty.
Because the fish in the reservoir swam in circles within nets and the turtles and waterfowl would eventually have their legs or mouths bound.
The words spoken at the waterfront were straightforward amounts and negotiations. The throats that shouted them were stout and strong, as were the hands that grabbed at the fish.
The people who came to the market to do business called the reservoir the spring of gold.
Kerube's delta market extended two hundred paces north from the reservoir, two hundred paces south, three hundred to the east, and four hundred to the west.
This extent had been decided in the distant past, and while it seemed the delta had plenty of space to accommodate the market, as far as Lawrence had heard or seen, it had never been expanded.
Which meant, of course, that the buildings were built to conserve land area.
The constant complaint about the overcrowding was that it was so bad you could see your neighbor's ledger.
No sooner had Lawrence and company arrived on the delta than Holo flattened her ears back.
It might have been a bit of a joke, but Lawrence didn't think it was necessarily for show.
No matter when you came, the largest market in the port town of Kerube possessed an unbelievable commotion.
| The delta had three docks, and Lawrence and company had arrived at the one used almost exclusively by traffic going to and from the north side of the town. So instead of the gate made from run-aground ships that was the market's most famous landmark, there was a quarried stone that had been brought ashore and simply left there.
The market proper started just past that with crowds of people standing shoulder to shoulder, none of them looking directly ahead but instead gazing intently at the shops they passed as they walked by.
"Hmm? This is hardly the only place so crowded, you know. I have been to towns where they're like this through and through," Holo said sagely, puffing up in a matter not so unlike Col himself.
"I-is that so...? The only really crowded place I've ever been is Aquent..."
"Aye. Do not worry; youth is an ignorant time. All you need do is watch and learn."
"That's surely true. After all, you said nearly the same thing to me the first time we visited a port town," said Lawrence from behind the two, putting his hand on Holo's head.
In the centuries Holo had spent in Pasloe, the world had changed enough for even a god to grow old. When it came to being ignorant about the state of the world, Holo was surely the worse offender.
But when it came to boasting, the same was true.
Irritated, she brushed Lawrence's hand off her head and glared at him threateningly. "As the contents of your coin purse are so small, aye, you must truly enjoy boasting of how much more worldly you are than I!"
"I could say precisely the same thing to you. The only large city you've ever visited is Ruvinheigen!"
Holo drew her chin in and puffed her cheeks out.
Col had been watching the exchange nervously, but this made Holo's "play with me!" attitude all too obvious.
"Only because you're a skinflint of a traveling merchant who pinches every penny, even for food. I lived a captive's life, unable to go where I wished. Or will you take me where I wish to go?"
They were difficult words, heavy with implication and calling into question their entire journey so far—if Lawrence misinterpreted even one, he could expect a sound kick in the rear.
Col seemed not to know how much of it was a joke, and he was unable to hide his discomfort.
So Lawrence answered courteously and carefully. "Merchants interpret everything through money. So as long as it costs nothing, I will cooperate with you as much as you need."
"For example?" asked Holo, giving a rare half smile beneath her hood.
She seemed incapable of hiding the absurdity of her own performance.
"For example...hmm...," said Lawrence, thinking. Holo irritatedly struck him, then grabbed his clothes and pulled him close.
"In that case, how about some pillow talk? Or do I need to make it clearer than that?"
She had made it quite clear enough, Lawrence stopped himself from saying.
Just when he thought they were fighting, the tone of the exchange had taken a sudden change, and Col's face reddened as he swallowed and watched the two.
Lawrence mused that being an actor would not be so bad.
"It's true that pillow talk doesn't cost anything. Although whenever I carry you to bed, you're always drunk."
Holo slipped away from Lawrence, a malicious smile on her face.
Lawrence prepared himself to show his best you-got-me face.
"What else can I do? Your conversation is far too boring to endure sober."
Lawrence wanted someone to compliment them on having matured so much that they could engage in such an obvious parody of their usual conversation.
"Now then, shall we have a look around?" suggested Holo, smacking her lips with relish, apparently satisfied with their joking.
What she wanted to have a look at was not the market itself, but rather the food arrayed within it.
Despite having just eaten her fill of chicken, her belly was evidently already empty.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The delta had three docks, and Lawrence and company had arrived at the one used almost exclusively by traffic going to and from the north side of the town. So instead of the gate made from run-aground ships that was the market's most famous landmark, there was a quarried stone that had been brought ashore and simply left there.
The market proper started just past that with crowds of people standing shoulder to shoulder, none of them looking directly ahead but instead gazing intently at the shops they passed as they walked by.
"Hmm? This is hardly the only place so crowded, you know. I have been to towns where they're like this through and through," Holo said sagely, puffing up in a matter not so unlike Col himself.
"I-is that so...? The only really crowded place I've ever been is Aquent..."
"Aye. Do not worry; youth is an ignorant time. All you need do is watch and learn."
"That's surely true. After all, you said nearly the same thing to me the first time we visited a port town," said Lawrence from behind the two, putting his hand on Holo's head.
In the centuries Holo had spent in Pasloe, the world had changed enough for even a god to grow old. When it came to being ignorant about the state of the world, Holo was surely the worse offender.
But when it came to boasting, the same was true.
Irritated, she brushed Lawrence's hand off her head and glared at him threateningly. "As the contents of your coin purse are so small, aye, you must truly enjoy boasting of how much more worldly you are than I!"
"I could say precisely the same thing to you. The only large city you've ever visited is Ruvinheigen!"
Holo drew her chin in and puffed her cheeks out.
Col had been watching the exchange nervously, but this made Holo's "play with me!" attitude all too obvious.
"Only because you're a skinflint of a traveling merchant who pinches every penny, even for food. I lived a captive's life, unable to go where I wished. Or will you take me where I wish to go?"
They were difficult words, heavy with implication and calling into question their entire journey so far—if Lawrence misinterpreted even one, he could expect a sound kick in the rear.
Col seemed not to know how much of it was a joke, and he was unable to hide his discomfort.
So Lawrence answered courteously and carefully. "Merchants interpret everything through money. So as long as it costs nothing, I will cooperate with you as much as you need."
"For example?" asked Holo, giving a rare half smile beneath her hood.
She seemed incapable of hiding the absurdity of her own performance.
"For example...hmm...," said Lawrence, thinking. Holo irritatedly struck him, then grabbed his clothes and pulled him close.
"In that case, how about some pillow talk? Or do I need to make it clearer than that?"
She had made it quite clear enough, Lawrence stopped himself from saying.
Just when he thought they were fighting, the tone of the exchange had taken a sudden change, and Col's face reddened as he swallowed and watched the two.
Lawrence mused that being an actor would not be so bad.
"It's true that pillow talk doesn't cost anything. Although whenever I carry you to bed, you're always drunk."
Holo slipped away from Lawrence, a malicious smile on her face.
Lawrence prepared himself to show his best you-got-me face.
"What else can I do? Your conversation is far too boring to endure sober."
Lawrence wanted someone to compliment them on having matured so much that they could engage in such an obvious parody of their usual conversation.
"Now then, shall we have a look around?" suggested Holo, smacking her lips with relish, apparently satisfied with their joking.
What she wanted to have a look at was not the market itself, but rather the food arrayed within it.
Despite having just eaten her fill of chicken, her belly was evidently already empty.
| "Hmph. When you say it like that, it makes it sound like all I care about is food."
"Wha—? N-no, that's not what I—"
If her robe had been pulled off, no doubt Holo's tail would have been swishing to and fro as she toyed with Col mercilessly. In any case, Lawrence was not listening to Col's stumbling words as he was teased.
He started walking alone, then passed the stone that served as a gate and turned back.
"Come, hurry!"
Despite the noise of the bustling market, the clear tone of a lass's voice would still attract attention.
A merchant who was sitting on the stone and writing something glanced at Holo, the hand on his slate going awry. Paradoxically, her slim, chaste features made it obvious she was abstaining for profit. From the perspective of an ascetic hermit, this was a grave sin.
Following Holo's gaze led to Lawrence, which at the very least made things unfavorable.
And though the merchant soon dropped his gaze back to his slate and continued writing, Lawrence could clearly see that he could not help occasionally letting it slip past the edge of the slate, and only with effort did Lawrence hide a rueful chuckle.
"Stop your dallying! Come, now—" shouted Holo. Though it was unclear whether she was aware of the gaze upon her, she felt rushed enough that the tip of her swishing tail poked out from under her robe, and having shouted, she suddenly fell silent.
***
No matter how good at acting she might have been, even the best disguise would wear thin if it was worn long enough.
And this did not seem like an act, so like the young merchant before him had just done, Lawrence followed Holo's gaze.
And then he saw.
Col looked back, too, and clapped his hand over his mouth, glancing surreptitiously at Lawrence.
At the end of Holo's gaze, just getting off the boat, was the familiar form of a certain merchant.
Wearing the same clothes as usual, regarding everything in the world as so many coins to be counted past sleepy, half-lidded eyes, the owner of that fearless gaze turned it upon Lawrence.
But the faint surprise that Eve evinced was surely not a skillful act, but genuine.
For around Eve were two men, both well dressed and well fed, trailed by two men also well dressed but with sinister looks in their eyes—the encounter had to be a coincidence.
The young merchant who had been sitting on the rock pondering his business noticed Eve and the others and scrambled to his feet, trotting into the marketplace as though making his escape.
An older fishmonger, standing idly beside his fish cart as he waited for his broker to show up, bowed respectfully as if he were meeting an ocean spirit.
The men around Eve seemed to regard the actions of the young merchant and the old fishmonger as completely ordinary. It was as though Lawrence were the abnormal one, and they stared at him openly, as though appraising him.
Then they sniffed, as if he was beneath their contempt.
They turned and regarded Eve as if asking what this boy's problem was.
"I thought for sure you'd headed south...but maybe sightseeing comes first," said Eve in an amused tone.
The youngest of the four men handled the payment of their ferryman's fee.
Eve did not even glance at them, instead facing Lawrence as she spoke.
She spared Holo only a moment's look, and Lawrence was sure that if he had checked, Holo's eyes would have been full of hostility.
The men around Eve murmured into each other's ears as they considered Lawrence.
"Yes, as a bit of a break from work. My wound still aches a bit, you see." Lawrence let some hostility slip into his voice as he could feel Holo's gaze boring into his back.
Eve would surely understand that much.
She narrowed her eyes faintly, and raising her hand, gave two, then three signals to the men.
The two well-fed men directed unfriendly smiles at Lawrence, and the two mean-eyed ones completely ignored the group as they passed, heading into the marketplace.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Hmph. When you say it like that, it makes it sound like all I care about is food."
"Wha—? N-no, that's not what I—"
If her robe had been pulled off, no doubt Holo's tail would have been swishing to and fro as she toyed with Col mercilessly. In any case, Lawrence was not listening to Col's stumbling words as he was teased.
He started walking alone, then passed the stone that served as a gate and turned back.
"Come, hurry!"
Despite the noise of the bustling market, the clear tone of a lass's voice would still attract attention.
A merchant who was sitting on the stone and writing something glanced at Holo, the hand on his slate going awry. Paradoxically, her slim, chaste features made it obvious she was abstaining for profit. From the perspective of an ascetic hermit, this was a grave sin.
Following Holo's gaze led to Lawrence, which at the very least made things unfavorable.
And though the merchant soon dropped his gaze back to his slate and continued writing, Lawrence could clearly see that he could not help occasionally letting it slip past the edge of the slate, and only with effort did Lawrence hide a rueful chuckle.
"Stop your dallying! Come, now—" shouted Holo. Though it was unclear whether she was aware of the gaze upon her, she felt rushed enough that the tip of her swishing tail poked out from under her robe, and having shouted, she suddenly fell silent.
***
No matter how good at acting she might have been, even the best disguise would wear thin if it was worn long enough.
And this did not seem like an act, so like the young merchant before him had just done, Lawrence followed Holo's gaze.
And then he saw.
Col looked back, too, and clapped his hand over his mouth, glancing surreptitiously at Lawrence.
At the end of Holo's gaze, just getting off the boat, was the familiar form of a certain merchant.
Wearing the same clothes as usual, regarding everything in the world as so many coins to be counted past sleepy, half-lidded eyes, the owner of that fearless gaze turned it upon Lawrence.
But the faint surprise that Eve evinced was surely not a skillful act, but genuine.
For around Eve were two men, both well dressed and well fed, trailed by two men also well dressed but with sinister looks in their eyes—the encounter had to be a coincidence.
The young merchant who had been sitting on the rock pondering his business noticed Eve and the others and scrambled to his feet, trotting into the marketplace as though making his escape.
An older fishmonger, standing idly beside his fish cart as he waited for his broker to show up, bowed respectfully as if he were meeting an ocean spirit.
The men around Eve seemed to regard the actions of the young merchant and the old fishmonger as completely ordinary. It was as though Lawrence were the abnormal one, and they stared at him openly, as though appraising him.
Then they sniffed, as if he was beneath their contempt.
They turned and regarded Eve as if asking what this boy's problem was.
"I thought for sure you'd headed south...but maybe sightseeing comes first," said Eve in an amused tone.
The youngest of the four men handled the payment of their ferryman's fee.
Eve did not even glance at them, instead facing Lawrence as she spoke.
She spared Holo only a moment's look, and Lawrence was sure that if he had checked, Holo's eyes would have been full of hostility.
The men around Eve murmured into each other's ears as they considered Lawrence.
"Yes, as a bit of a break from work. My wound still aches a bit, you see." Lawrence let some hostility slip into his voice as he could feel Holo's gaze boring into his back.
Eve would surely understand that much.
She narrowed her eyes faintly, and raising her hand, gave two, then three signals to the men.
The two well-fed men directed unfriendly smiles at Lawrence, and the two mean-eyed ones completely ignored the group as they passed, heading into the marketplace.
| They had to be powerful figures in the town.
Just as they walked away, Holo approached Lawrence.
"For my part, I was in the middle of resting up when that lot flushed me out. They're big fish on the north side for Kerube," said Eve.
"Are they merchants?" Lawrence asked, at which Eve shook her head.
"They're not involved in buying or selling goods, but they're awfully good at bookkeeping."
Eve's eyes were colored with her distaste, and in an instant, Lawrence understood exactly what sort of men they were. They probably had special privileges in Kerube.
They might have been landowners, or perhaps they controlled tax collection or fishing licensure. At the very least, it was clear that they lived in a world where simply relaxing in a chair would bring money flowing to them.
If they were making even the slightest bow in Eve's direction, they must know how useful she could be.
Or perhaps despite their power, they still lacked a noble title.
Lawrence could not be sure, but the situation smelled highly amusing.
"If you're interested, come to the spring of gold. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Just as Eve left, she shot Holo a quick glance.
Then her form entered the throng in the marketplace, and she disappeared—as if she could blend into or stand out of a crowd at will.
Impressed, Lawrence watched her go before a kick from Holo brought him back to the present.
"You've some nerve, watching another female right in front of me."
Lawrence had heard that line somewhere before but only shrugged, not offering a proper answer. "Shall I look only at you from now on, then?" he inquired, playfully bring his face close to Holo's and boldly touching her cheek.
An irritated Holo then immediately started walking toward the marketplace.
"Ah, Miss Holo!" Col reflexively followed her but stopped short after a step.
He looked back hesitantly. "E-er—"
"Hmm?"
"Are you not going to...?"
By which he of course meant following Holo.
Col was probably worried that by running after Holo, he was usurping Lawrence's role.
"I am not. I think she'd like you to go with her."
"I don't—"
"You don't think so?" asked Lawrence, and Col shook his head.
Even if he were released, Col surely would not try to fix his mussed hair.
Evidently, he was too busy thinking about other things to bother with it.
"I'll admit that you're clever, but even a bit of thought should have led you to conclude that I've got no leg to stand on." Lawrence smiled and fixed Col's hair. "It's true that she's angry with me. But the part where she's quarreling with me, that's a lie."
Lawrence reached into the leather coin purse slung around his hip and produced a single silver trenni.
He then touched the coin to Col's nose. "This should be more than enough for all the food and drink you could want. Be careful that Holo doesn't have too much wine."
***
Col seemed not to understand why Lawrence was not pursuing Holo, and he accepted the coin with a deeply perplexed expression.
"She can see right through me, you see. She knows Eve's words have caught my interest. But she also hates Eve and doesn't want to have to see her face."
Col wore a look that said, "And then?" but Lawrence explained no further, giving Col's back a little shove, adding that if he wanted to know more, he should ask Holo.
He hesitated for a moment, but he was a smart boy and walked away as he was told.
Though she had already disappeared into the crowd, Holo would surely find Col.
"Well, then."
Eve had said to come to the spring of gold.
Lawrence understood what that meant.
He had learned that any important meeting regarding the port town of Kerube would be held by the delta's spring of gold.
If it were held on the north side, the northerners would try to press their advantage, likewise for the south side; this was a measure against that.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | They had to be powerful figures in the town.
Just as they walked away, Holo approached Lawrence.
"For my part, I was in the middle of resting up when that lot flushed me out. They're big fish on the north side for Kerube," said Eve.
"Are they merchants?" Lawrence asked, at which Eve shook her head.
"They're not involved in buying or selling goods, but they're awfully good at bookkeeping."
Eve's eyes were colored with her distaste, and in an instant, Lawrence understood exactly what sort of men they were. They probably had special privileges in Kerube.
They might have been landowners, or perhaps they controlled tax collection or fishing licensure. At the very least, it was clear that they lived in a world where simply relaxing in a chair would bring money flowing to them.
If they were making even the slightest bow in Eve's direction, they must know how useful she could be.
Or perhaps despite their power, they still lacked a noble title.
Lawrence could not be sure, but the situation smelled highly amusing.
"If you're interested, come to the spring of gold. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Just as Eve left, she shot Holo a quick glance.
Then her form entered the throng in the marketplace, and she disappeared—as if she could blend into or stand out of a crowd at will.
Impressed, Lawrence watched her go before a kick from Holo brought him back to the present.
"You've some nerve, watching another female right in front of me."
Lawrence had heard that line somewhere before but only shrugged, not offering a proper answer. "Shall I look only at you from now on, then?" he inquired, playfully bring his face close to Holo's and boldly touching her cheek.
An irritated Holo then immediately started walking toward the marketplace.
"Ah, Miss Holo!" Col reflexively followed her but stopped short after a step.
He looked back hesitantly. "E-er—"
"Hmm?"
"Are you not going to...?"
By which he of course meant following Holo.
Col was probably worried that by running after Holo, he was usurping Lawrence's role.
"I am not. I think she'd like you to go with her."
"I don't—"
"You don't think so?" asked Lawrence, and Col shook his head.
Even if he were released, Col surely would not try to fix his mussed hair.
Evidently, he was too busy thinking about other things to bother with it.
"I'll admit that you're clever, but even a bit of thought should have led you to conclude that I've got no leg to stand on." Lawrence smiled and fixed Col's hair. "It's true that she's angry with me. But the part where she's quarreling with me, that's a lie."
Lawrence reached into the leather coin purse slung around his hip and produced a single silver trenni.
He then touched the coin to Col's nose. "This should be more than enough for all the food and drink you could want. Be careful that Holo doesn't have too much wine."
***
Col seemed not to understand why Lawrence was not pursuing Holo, and he accepted the coin with a deeply perplexed expression.
"She can see right through me, you see. She knows Eve's words have caught my interest. But she also hates Eve and doesn't want to have to see her face."
Col wore a look that said, "And then?" but Lawrence explained no further, giving Col's back a little shove, adding that if he wanted to know more, he should ask Holo.
He hesitated for a moment, but he was a smart boy and walked away as he was told.
Though she had already disappeared into the crowd, Holo would surely find Col.
"Well, then."
Eve had said to come to the spring of gold.
Lawrence understood what that meant.
He had learned that any important meeting regarding the port town of Kerube would be held by the delta's spring of gold.
If it were held on the north side, the northerners would try to press their advantage, likewise for the south side; this was a measure against that.
| In the face of that, no possible amusement could compare.
Of course, it would have been easy enough for Holo to take Lawrence by the scruff of the neck and turn his attention back toward her, but a clever wolf like her understood the cost of doing so.
Far better for her to withdraw, thereby drawing something out of Lawrence.
And Lawrence had accepted the bargain.
He ran his hand through his hair ruefully, wishing that he could read Holo's heart as easily as he had understood the bargain they had just struck.
No doubt Holo was at a loss herself.
"A trenni for sightseeing, eh?"
As he folded his arms and craned his neck, he wondered if he had gotten too brave and handed over too much money.
But at least he would hear no complaints.
Lawrence walked, heading into the market for the first time in quite a while.
He felt he had melted into the crowd quite well.
All that was left was the squalid hustle and bustle of the marketplace, humming like an army of ants.
The marketplace was a little world of its own.
Whether it was true or not, it was said that the delta marketplace was built upon countless piles driven into the sand. Most of the buildings were stone to prevent—it was rumored—the pile-supported marketplace from being washed away by the river. Lawrence could understand that much, as the nails of wooden construction would instantly start to rust and rot, but he could not help but worry that stone buildings would sink into the sand.
Of course, he had never heard of anything like that happening so far, so it had to be working.
Due to the way things were, wind would carry sand through the spaces between buildings, where it would accumulate, calling to mind the markets of desert towns far to the south.
Words carried on the wind directed him through the twists and turns of the market's center, and he arrived without incident at the spring of gold.
Around the spring, a round plaza was constructed with roads leading away from it to the north, south, east, and west.
Marking the spring's very center was a long and high pylon.
Three blackened, dried fish were affixed to the pylon, perhaps as a kind of charm, and atop it perched a single seagull.
At one spot at the edge of the spring, three sets of tables and chairs were arranged, around which stood three guards with leather chest pieces. The men carried spears nearly twice as long as they were tall.
Taking a look around, Lawrence saw that the inns and lodgings surrounding the spring all had their second-story windows left open. All the faces peering out through them seemed to be those of well-to-do merchants, perhaps among them some who had women waiting on them within and were indulging themselves a bit.
Lawrence was, of course, not so wealthy that he could indulge in spectating from an inn, so he bought an ale from one of the opportunistically positioned open-air stalls, settling himself at an appropriate distance so that he could hear the conversation at the tables.
He did not see Eve, but there were already men he recognized for who they were, sitting in the chairs, each whispering into the ears of his staff.
There was no need to bother asking anybody the topic of discussion.
No tongue was as loose as that of a merchant anticipating amusement.
Merchants who were tight-lipped when talk of profit came up were only too happy to gossip.
Just by listening to the strong spirit seller talking loudly to his neighbor, Lawrence could glean the general idea.
The man seemed to be a merchant who was stopping over during a sea voyage, but he was extremely drunk, making him harder to understand. But the gist seemed to be that there was a debate going on over whether to expand the marketplace.
Lawrence had heard similar talk when he had visited in the past, so perhaps it was a common topic.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | In the face of that, no possible amusement could compare.
Of course, it would have been easy enough for Holo to take Lawrence by the scruff of the neck and turn his attention back toward her, but a clever wolf like her understood the cost of doing so.
Far better for her to withdraw, thereby drawing something out of Lawrence.
And Lawrence had accepted the bargain.
He ran his hand through his hair ruefully, wishing that he could read Holo's heart as easily as he had understood the bargain they had just struck.
No doubt Holo was at a loss herself.
"A trenni for sightseeing, eh?"
As he folded his arms and craned his neck, he wondered if he had gotten too brave and handed over too much money.
But at least he would hear no complaints.
Lawrence walked, heading into the market for the first time in quite a while.
He felt he had melted into the crowd quite well.
All that was left was the squalid hustle and bustle of the marketplace, humming like an army of ants.
The marketplace was a little world of its own.
Whether it was true or not, it was said that the delta marketplace was built upon countless piles driven into the sand. Most of the buildings were stone to prevent—it was rumored—the pile-supported marketplace from being washed away by the river. Lawrence could understand that much, as the nails of wooden construction would instantly start to rust and rot, but he could not help but worry that stone buildings would sink into the sand.
Of course, he had never heard of anything like that happening so far, so it had to be working.
Due to the way things were, wind would carry sand through the spaces between buildings, where it would accumulate, calling to mind the markets of desert towns far to the south.
Words carried on the wind directed him through the twists and turns of the market's center, and he arrived without incident at the spring of gold.
Around the spring, a round plaza was constructed with roads leading away from it to the north, south, east, and west.
Marking the spring's very center was a long and high pylon.
Three blackened, dried fish were affixed to the pylon, perhaps as a kind of charm, and atop it perched a single seagull.
At one spot at the edge of the spring, three sets of tables and chairs were arranged, around which stood three guards with leather chest pieces. The men carried spears nearly twice as long as they were tall.
Taking a look around, Lawrence saw that the inns and lodgings surrounding the spring all had their second-story windows left open. All the faces peering out through them seemed to be those of well-to-do merchants, perhaps among them some who had women waiting on them within and were indulging themselves a bit.
Lawrence was, of course, not so wealthy that he could indulge in spectating from an inn, so he bought an ale from one of the opportunistically positioned open-air stalls, settling himself at an appropriate distance so that he could hear the conversation at the tables.
He did not see Eve, but there were already men he recognized for who they were, sitting in the chairs, each whispering into the ears of his staff.
There was no need to bother asking anybody the topic of discussion.
No tongue was as loose as that of a merchant anticipating amusement.
Merchants who were tight-lipped when talk of profit came up were only too happy to gossip.
Just by listening to the strong spirit seller talking loudly to his neighbor, Lawrence could glean the general idea.
The man seemed to be a merchant who was stopping over during a sea voyage, but he was extremely drunk, making him harder to understand. But the gist seemed to be that there was a debate going on over whether to expand the marketplace.
Lawrence had heard similar talk when he had visited in the past, so perhaps it was a common topic.
| Of course, things were not so simple, so the debate went on and on—and in such cases, the interests of the people in power reigned supreme.
Lawrence brought his ale to his lips, gazing at the men at the tables with a wry smile, wondering just what sort of greed-stained play was about to be performed.
Just then, something else suddenly caught his eye, and in that instant, the gull sitting atop the central pylon flew away.
Immediately thereafter—or perhaps immediately before—the sound of a bell ringing echoed sharply across the plaza, and the surrounding chatter swiftly fell silent.
When Lawrence looked at the tables placed at the edge of the spring, the participants in the discussion there had all risen, extending their right hands and proclaiming the beginning of the meeting.
"In the name of the great spirit of the river, Roam!"
They then took their seats, and the three guards looked up into the sky and shook their spears three times.
It was full of as much pomp as the council of wise men of the ancient empire, but it was probably necessary in order to give the meeting the authority it needed.
Lawrence could guess how often someone had tried to question the council's authority.
If the meeting lacked the authority to set town policy, the town would quickly descend into civil unrest. It would be like a mercenary troop without a commander.
A nation was no different, which was why kings claimed their right to rule to be bestowed by God.
Lawrence took another swig of ale. "Seems like things are hard everywhere," he couldn't help murmuring, a wry smile on his face.
"You think so, too, eh?"
Lawrence nearly spit out his ale at the sudden, unexpected reply to his idle statement.
He hurriedly turned to face the direction from which the voice had emanated, and it was the one person he had not spied at the meeting—Eve.
"Why so startled? It's as though you've something to hide."
From behind the scarf wrapped about her head, her eyes smiled faintly.
"...Merchants keep their secrets and their coins tucked safely away in their purses, after all."
"I'd like to take mine to the grave, if I can."
"Quite right." Lawrence slumped exaggeratedly, which Eve laughed at like a carefree town lass. "So, what business might you have with a gossipy traveling merchant like me?"
"Such cheek. I doubt I'll ever forget your hands closing around my throat so long as I live."
It was hard for Lawrence to hear.
But even the grandest general had quarreled with someone as a child and come home crying.
"And here I thought you'd be over there sitting in one of those seats."
"That ceremony? If there was anything to be gained from that, I'd pray to God a little more often," declared Eve, turning her narrowed eyes to the spring's edge.
Lawrence openly regarded Eve's profile but could not guess her real intention.
Was her talkativeness thanks to a good mood or a bad one?
If Eve were a wolf like Holo, it would surely be the latter, Lawrence thought to himself.
He heard a loud cough from the edge of the spring, which was followed by the formal declaration of the topic.
"The meeting's started."
Just as the liquor-swilling merchants beside them had predicted, the meeting regarded the expansion of the delta marketplace.
The man who pronounced the topic was one of the same well-dressed men who had disembarked from the boat with Eve, and he seemed accustomed to public speaking.
"It's not quite a farce, but a meeting's conclusion always comes from somewhere outside the participants, don't you think?"
Lawrence's reply to Eve was delayed thanks to a feeling not unlike envy that came over him. "...So, you're saying they've entrusted their under-the-table dealings to you."
Eve sighed and shrugged. "Not to put too fine a point on it."
"I'm wondering why you'd bother idling around with me, then," said Lawrence, debating whether he had let more envy than was necessary color his voice but deciding that this small amount of covetousness would be forgiven.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Of course, things were not so simple, so the debate went on and on—and in such cases, the interests of the people in power reigned supreme.
Lawrence brought his ale to his lips, gazing at the men at the tables with a wry smile, wondering just what sort of greed-stained play was about to be performed.
Just then, something else suddenly caught his eye, and in that instant, the gull sitting atop the central pylon flew away.
Immediately thereafter—or perhaps immediately before—the sound of a bell ringing echoed sharply across the plaza, and the surrounding chatter swiftly fell silent.
When Lawrence looked at the tables placed at the edge of the spring, the participants in the discussion there had all risen, extending their right hands and proclaiming the beginning of the meeting.
"In the name of the great spirit of the river, Roam!"
They then took their seats, and the three guards looked up into the sky and shook their spears three times.
It was full of as much pomp as the council of wise men of the ancient empire, but it was probably necessary in order to give the meeting the authority it needed.
Lawrence could guess how often someone had tried to question the council's authority.
If the meeting lacked the authority to set town policy, the town would quickly descend into civil unrest. It would be like a mercenary troop without a commander.
A nation was no different, which was why kings claimed their right to rule to be bestowed by God.
Lawrence took another swig of ale. "Seems like things are hard everywhere," he couldn't help murmuring, a wry smile on his face.
"You think so, too, eh?"
Lawrence nearly spit out his ale at the sudden, unexpected reply to his idle statement.
He hurriedly turned to face the direction from which the voice had emanated, and it was the one person he had not spied at the meeting—Eve.
"Why so startled? It's as though you've something to hide."
From behind the scarf wrapped about her head, her eyes smiled faintly.
"...Merchants keep their secrets and their coins tucked safely away in their purses, after all."
"I'd like to take mine to the grave, if I can."
"Quite right." Lawrence slumped exaggeratedly, which Eve laughed at like a carefree town lass. "So, what business might you have with a gossipy traveling merchant like me?"
"Such cheek. I doubt I'll ever forget your hands closing around my throat so long as I live."
It was hard for Lawrence to hear.
But even the grandest general had quarreled with someone as a child and come home crying.
"And here I thought you'd be over there sitting in one of those seats."
"That ceremony? If there was anything to be gained from that, I'd pray to God a little more often," declared Eve, turning her narrowed eyes to the spring's edge.
Lawrence openly regarded Eve's profile but could not guess her real intention.
Was her talkativeness thanks to a good mood or a bad one?
If Eve were a wolf like Holo, it would surely be the latter, Lawrence thought to himself.
He heard a loud cough from the edge of the spring, which was followed by the formal declaration of the topic.
"The meeting's started."
Just as the liquor-swilling merchants beside them had predicted, the meeting regarded the expansion of the delta marketplace.
The man who pronounced the topic was one of the same well-dressed men who had disembarked from the boat with Eve, and he seemed accustomed to public speaking.
"It's not quite a farce, but a meeting's conclusion always comes from somewhere outside the participants, don't you think?"
Lawrence's reply to Eve was delayed thanks to a feeling not unlike envy that came over him. "...So, you're saying they've entrusted their under-the-table dealings to you."
Eve sighed and shrugged. "Not to put too fine a point on it."
"I'm wondering why you'd bother idling around with me, then," said Lawrence, debating whether he had let more envy than was necessary color his voice but deciding that this small amount of covetousness would be forgiven.
| Yet the moment Eve heard Lawrence's words, he was surprised to see her gape in apparent surprise.
It hadn't been that surprising, he thought—but then noticed that Eve's gaze had returned to the meeting.
Apparent representatives of the north and south were exchanging words, but with seemingly less vigor than they should have been, even appearing rather silly.
Lawrence looked back at Eve a moment after her surprise.
And when he saw Eve's face, she was smiling as she had been when she looked at Col, Lawrence thought to himself—but then he thought better of it.
It was the same expression she had worn when they each put their lives on the line in Lenos, the town of lumber and fur.
"If I said it made me happy you were honestly envious, would you laugh?"
Lawrence understood the reason why her eyes were fixed on the meeting immediately before her.
He doubted there was a wolf anywhere that was honest or obedient.
"I'd laugh, all right."
Merchants to a one spent their days hiding their true motives, always trying to deceive one another for their own profit.
If he were to obey that near instinct, the correct course would be for Lawrence to try to read Eve's mood and see if he could get in on whatever under-the-table deal she was conducting. Envy was a secondary priority, and letting that envy show was not even a consideration.
And yet if a merchant's acquaintances were all other merchants, that unavoidably meant that they were all also hiding their true motives and trying to take whatever advantage they could.
And even a legendary hero needed a break sometimes.
So Lawrence's insensitive admission of his own envy had actually made this wolf happy.
Eve looked down in self-deprecation, and when she looked back up, her eyes were as clear as melted snow.
"I was right to spot you and call you over. The truth is, I was rather melancholy about having been summoned by that lot." Eve indicated the meeting with irritation.
"It won't make you any money?" inquired Lawrence, and even with the scarf she was wearing, he could tell her mouth twisted into a sneer.
"I played with fire in Lenos and on the Roam River, but yes, that's one of the reasons I could breathe a little easier once I entered Kerube."
A political patron. Or a backer with sufficient wealth to put her beyond the ability of local lords to arrest.
Either way, they would hardly consider Eve an equal.
Such people existed, even for traveling merchants who prided themselves on their independence.
Despite having fallen into poverty, she had a noble name and had dragged herself up from the depths, yet there was no telling how many burdens she still carried.
When Lawrence and company met her in front of the town entrance, Eve paid them proper respect, but he realized, seeing her now, that it might not have been so simple a thing.
"I'm sort of a mercenary for them, but they've ordered me to do something essentially impossible. Do you know the story behind this marketplace?"
Presented with such a tale, Lawrence shook his head without a trace of pride.
"Scores of years ago, it was a group of merchants from the south who proposed the marketplace because they wanted a place to trade with the north. However, the landowners were a little short on wisdom and thought that if they sold the land, it would be a huge loss, so they bragged they would construct their own market. Even if it drove them into a deep debt."
"The landholders were from the north. The moneylenders were from the south."
Eve pushed aside her scarf and took a couple drafts of her ale, then set her cup back down. "Yes. The men over there are the sons of the ones who borrowed the money and those who lent it. In exchange for not losing the land and receiving exorbitant rent for its use, they wind up paying an equivalent amount of interest. Of course, the landowners cannot hide their irritation at this and are constantly looking for a way out."
"But they haven't found one."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Yet the moment Eve heard Lawrence's words, he was surprised to see her gape in apparent surprise.
It hadn't been that surprising, he thought—but then noticed that Eve's gaze had returned to the meeting.
Apparent representatives of the north and south were exchanging words, but with seemingly less vigor than they should have been, even appearing rather silly.
Lawrence looked back at Eve a moment after her surprise.
And when he saw Eve's face, she was smiling as she had been when she looked at Col, Lawrence thought to himself—but then he thought better of it.
It was the same expression she had worn when they each put their lives on the line in Lenos, the town of lumber and fur.
"If I said it made me happy you were honestly envious, would you laugh?"
Lawrence understood the reason why her eyes were fixed on the meeting immediately before her.
He doubted there was a wolf anywhere that was honest or obedient.
"I'd laugh, all right."
Merchants to a one spent their days hiding their true motives, always trying to deceive one another for their own profit.
If he were to obey that near instinct, the correct course would be for Lawrence to try to read Eve's mood and see if he could get in on whatever under-the-table deal she was conducting. Envy was a secondary priority, and letting that envy show was not even a consideration.
And yet if a merchant's acquaintances were all other merchants, that unavoidably meant that they were all also hiding their true motives and trying to take whatever advantage they could.
And even a legendary hero needed a break sometimes.
So Lawrence's insensitive admission of his own envy had actually made this wolf happy.
Eve looked down in self-deprecation, and when she looked back up, her eyes were as clear as melted snow.
"I was right to spot you and call you over. The truth is, I was rather melancholy about having been summoned by that lot." Eve indicated the meeting with irritation.
"It won't make you any money?" inquired Lawrence, and even with the scarf she was wearing, he could tell her mouth twisted into a sneer.
"I played with fire in Lenos and on the Roam River, but yes, that's one of the reasons I could breathe a little easier once I entered Kerube."
A political patron. Or a backer with sufficient wealth to put her beyond the ability of local lords to arrest.
Either way, they would hardly consider Eve an equal.
Such people existed, even for traveling merchants who prided themselves on their independence.
Despite having fallen into poverty, she had a noble name and had dragged herself up from the depths, yet there was no telling how many burdens she still carried.
When Lawrence and company met her in front of the town entrance, Eve paid them proper respect, but he realized, seeing her now, that it might not have been so simple a thing.
"I'm sort of a mercenary for them, but they've ordered me to do something essentially impossible. Do you know the story behind this marketplace?"
Presented with such a tale, Lawrence shook his head without a trace of pride.
"Scores of years ago, it was a group of merchants from the south who proposed the marketplace because they wanted a place to trade with the north. However, the landowners were a little short on wisdom and thought that if they sold the land, it would be a huge loss, so they bragged they would construct their own market. Even if it drove them into a deep debt."
"The landholders were from the north. The moneylenders were from the south."
Eve pushed aside her scarf and took a couple drafts of her ale, then set her cup back down. "Yes. The men over there are the sons of the ones who borrowed the money and those who lent it. In exchange for not losing the land and receiving exorbitant rent for its use, they wind up paying an equivalent amount of interest. Of course, the landowners cannot hide their irritation at this and are constantly looking for a way out."
"But they haven't found one."
| Eve's face was as still as the surface of a lake.
She was certainly trying to become a merchant prince, but right now she was only a modestly wealthy trader.
She did use others—she was used by them.
Eve had been told to overturn the problem surrounding the north side, the south side, and their marketplace—which she knew perfectly well was impossible for anyone.
But she was not expected to successfully solve the problem, rather to shoulder the blame for failing to do so, thereby acting as the unlucky distraction, which would take attention off the landlords' own grievances.
Lawrence found himself wishing, as someone once bested by Eve, for her triumph.
"Still, I don't have a monopoly on misfortune. You saw Reynolds's place, didn't you?" asked Eve nonchalantly. That Lawrence's strengths and hers were so different was surely because the oceans they had traversed were so different.
"Yes...it was shabbier than I expected."
"Hah. At least be a little more circumspect about it. But even a place that deals only in copper exports has its profit swallowed up by the powers that be. That's the sort of place this is."
There was no place as pitiful as one with no money and only power.
It was the truth of the world that the wealthy never quarreled.
"But I mustn't get you involved in any trouble. I'm off to negotiate, I suppose."
Eve thanked Lawrence for the ale and started to walk away.
Lawrence could not help but to call out to her receding form. "I had no problems hearing the story of the wolf remains!"
Eve looked back, her expression unchanging, then resumed her previous direction and kept walking.
But Lawrence was fairly certain that the faint smile he had detected beneath her scarf had not been his imagination.
Eve's actions had been entirely purposeful.
As though she had wanted him to call out.
Unlike the rest of the merchants, Lawrence did not watch the tables, instead continuing to follow Eve's back as she receded.
Eventually, at quite a distance from the crowd, she hailed a group of eccentric-seeming merchants who, judging by their clothes, seemed to be from the south.
And just as Eve was with the north, they were surely the merchant mercenaries working for the south.
Lawrence was sure that if he asked their names and affiliations, he would feel some sense of affinity for them, but still he could not help but cheer for Eve.
In Lenos, the town of lumber and fur, he witnessed Eve's preparedness and her willingness to risk her own life, and on the Roam River, he had to tip his hat to her thorough use of every possible method to attain her goal.
And yet when circumstances changed, she was the one being used.
Of course, in exchange for being so used, she surely profited herself.
But Lawrence thought he could understand Eve, who could so easily leave Lenos, where she had cut deeply into Church authority, and Kerube, where she was well connected to the powers that be, in order to get herself and her furs south.
She was not some hero who would cleave the world open with naught but her sword and her hand, but rather an ordinary merchant who occasionally had to sip her share of mud.
"A merchant can never play the leading role," held a famous merchant's saying.
Lawrence was glad Holo was not with him, he realized a few moments later.
And he was glad he had ordered ale instead of wine, he thought after peering into the bottom of the cup.
His own face was surely rather pathetic at the moment.
Holo's rage came from the Church subjecting the remains of the wolf-god to terrible treatment in the name of missionary work, but such incidents were probably not rare.
Lawrence was not like Reynolds of the Jean Company, but he hoped he would only bring beautiful memories to the grave.
Lawrence murmured as much inwardly, then looked back at the ongoing meeting as its artificial bickering continued, and he swallowed a bitter sigh with a drink of ale.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Eve's face was as still as the surface of a lake.
She was certainly trying to become a merchant prince, but right now she was only a modestly wealthy trader.
She did use others—she was used by them.
Eve had been told to overturn the problem surrounding the north side, the south side, and their marketplace—which she knew perfectly well was impossible for anyone.
But she was not expected to successfully solve the problem, rather to shoulder the blame for failing to do so, thereby acting as the unlucky distraction, which would take attention off the landlords' own grievances.
Lawrence found himself wishing, as someone once bested by Eve, for her triumph.
"Still, I don't have a monopoly on misfortune. You saw Reynolds's place, didn't you?" asked Eve nonchalantly. That Lawrence's strengths and hers were so different was surely because the oceans they had traversed were so different.
"Yes...it was shabbier than I expected."
"Hah. At least be a little more circumspect about it. But even a place that deals only in copper exports has its profit swallowed up by the powers that be. That's the sort of place this is."
There was no place as pitiful as one with no money and only power.
It was the truth of the world that the wealthy never quarreled.
"But I mustn't get you involved in any trouble. I'm off to negotiate, I suppose."
Eve thanked Lawrence for the ale and started to walk away.
Lawrence could not help but to call out to her receding form. "I had no problems hearing the story of the wolf remains!"
Eve looked back, her expression unchanging, then resumed her previous direction and kept walking.
But Lawrence was fairly certain that the faint smile he had detected beneath her scarf had not been his imagination.
Eve's actions had been entirely purposeful.
As though she had wanted him to call out.
Unlike the rest of the merchants, Lawrence did not watch the tables, instead continuing to follow Eve's back as she receded.
Eventually, at quite a distance from the crowd, she hailed a group of eccentric-seeming merchants who, judging by their clothes, seemed to be from the south.
And just as Eve was with the north, they were surely the merchant mercenaries working for the south.
Lawrence was sure that if he asked their names and affiliations, he would feel some sense of affinity for them, but still he could not help but cheer for Eve.
In Lenos, the town of lumber and fur, he witnessed Eve's preparedness and her willingness to risk her own life, and on the Roam River, he had to tip his hat to her thorough use of every possible method to attain her goal.
And yet when circumstances changed, she was the one being used.
Of course, in exchange for being so used, she surely profited herself.
But Lawrence thought he could understand Eve, who could so easily leave Lenos, where she had cut deeply into Church authority, and Kerube, where she was well connected to the powers that be, in order to get herself and her furs south.
She was not some hero who would cleave the world open with naught but her sword and her hand, but rather an ordinary merchant who occasionally had to sip her share of mud.
"A merchant can never play the leading role," held a famous merchant's saying.
Lawrence was glad Holo was not with him, he realized a few moments later.
And he was glad he had ordered ale instead of wine, he thought after peering into the bottom of the cup.
His own face was surely rather pathetic at the moment.
Holo's rage came from the Church subjecting the remains of the wolf-god to terrible treatment in the name of missionary work, but such incidents were probably not rare.
Lawrence was not like Reynolds of the Jean Company, but he hoped he would only bring beautiful memories to the grave.
Lawrence murmured as much inwardly, then looked back at the ongoing meeting as its artificial bickering continued, and he swallowed a bitter sigh with a drink of ale.
| But Lawrence could not deny that hearing and seeing were very different things, as the feeling he got on first setting foot in the marketplace was similar to the impression he had upon first seeing the Jean Company.
Goods were not piled high the way they were in markets that were only open a few days out of the year, and there were neither people visiting for business, nor hawkers trying to pry loose coins from the travelers who were stopping in the market midway through their journeys.
The marketplace was choked with crowds, but a close inspection of the shops that were lined up revealed that establishments with actual goods on display were few. Instead, they merely hung signs for goods in amounts far exceeding what someone would need in their daily lives, and without speaking to the shopkeeper, no samples were shown.
Lawrence had wanted to try some foreign food, but the marketplace was so crowded that no space for friendly drinking and relaxation could exist. For drink, there were only a few shops selling ale and wine in bulk.
Business required an atmosphere of excitement, of vigor—not confusion and violence.
For that reason, the number of taverns was controlled, and the sights of soldiers on guard with arms on their belts were not rare.
All this meant that there were a limited number of places for Lawrence to go, which any clever person would have realized after a quick circuit through the crowded marketplace.
Instead of Lawrence finding his companion, then, it was more accurate to say that the merchant was found by her.
Reasoning that Holo and Col would be amusing themselves in their way, after having his fill of watching the town's movers and shakers perform their little farce, Lawrence arrived at a first-floor tavern in search of Holo.
Just as he was deciding whether or not to open the door, a voice called out to him from above.
"Come, you."
Lawrence did not reply but pushed the tavern's door open in a long-suffering manner.
The words that he uttered immediately upon entering the small second-floor room, containing the source of the voice that so blithely called out to him, were not entirely sarcastic. "You're certainly living it up."
"Am I? We've but used the silver coin you gave us."
There was a table and chair next to the window, but Holo sat on the windowsill, drinking.
Though she was clearly visible from the street outside, her ears and tail were exposed to the world. She was either drunk or confident that she would not be recognized.
"Using a whole trenni on wine without a single hesitation is simply...well, I'll have to explain it to you sooner or later." Lawrence picked up a small cask that had been left on the floor, empty, and took a whiff, sighing.
Having a discerning palate while also being a big eater and drinker was a bad combination.
"Where's Col?"
There were plates that had clearly once held some kind of meat dish on the table, so perhaps he'd been sent out to buy more.
"Just what you're thinking." Evidently the wine was keeping Holo warm, as she seemed to find the cold air that came through the window quite pleasant.
"Honestly...don't drive him too hard now."
Lawrence picked up the wine cask that was on the table and sat on the little bed with which the small room had been provided.
It was a poorly made bed to be sure, but to those used to traveling like livestock in the cramped conditions of a ship, it was as fine as any royal canopy bed.
Of course, if relaxing in a room like this with a cup of wine in one hand was all most people needed to feel better once they were released onto dry land after being packed into a ship's hold, then there'd be no need for the Church's sermons.
Holo had probably rented the room without knowing any of this, and once she did become aware of it, she seemed vaguely uncomfortable.
"So, did you hear anything new?" she asked while facing out, her head cocked against the windowpane and her eyes closed, the breeze caressing her cheek.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But Lawrence could not deny that hearing and seeing were very different things, as the feeling he got on first setting foot in the marketplace was similar to the impression he had upon first seeing the Jean Company.
Goods were not piled high the way they were in markets that were only open a few days out of the year, and there were neither people visiting for business, nor hawkers trying to pry loose coins from the travelers who were stopping in the market midway through their journeys.
The marketplace was choked with crowds, but a close inspection of the shops that were lined up revealed that establishments with actual goods on display were few. Instead, they merely hung signs for goods in amounts far exceeding what someone would need in their daily lives, and without speaking to the shopkeeper, no samples were shown.
Lawrence had wanted to try some foreign food, but the marketplace was so crowded that no space for friendly drinking and relaxation could exist. For drink, there were only a few shops selling ale and wine in bulk.
Business required an atmosphere of excitement, of vigor—not confusion and violence.
For that reason, the number of taverns was controlled, and the sights of soldiers on guard with arms on their belts were not rare.
All this meant that there were a limited number of places for Lawrence to go, which any clever person would have realized after a quick circuit through the crowded marketplace.
Instead of Lawrence finding his companion, then, it was more accurate to say that the merchant was found by her.
Reasoning that Holo and Col would be amusing themselves in their way, after having his fill of watching the town's movers and shakers perform their little farce, Lawrence arrived at a first-floor tavern in search of Holo.
Just as he was deciding whether or not to open the door, a voice called out to him from above.
"Come, you."
Lawrence did not reply but pushed the tavern's door open in a long-suffering manner.
The words that he uttered immediately upon entering the small second-floor room, containing the source of the voice that so blithely called out to him, were not entirely sarcastic. "You're certainly living it up."
"Am I? We've but used the silver coin you gave us."
There was a table and chair next to the window, but Holo sat on the windowsill, drinking.
Though she was clearly visible from the street outside, her ears and tail were exposed to the world. She was either drunk or confident that she would not be recognized.
"Using a whole trenni on wine without a single hesitation is simply...well, I'll have to explain it to you sooner or later." Lawrence picked up a small cask that had been left on the floor, empty, and took a whiff, sighing.
Having a discerning palate while also being a big eater and drinker was a bad combination.
"Where's Col?"
There were plates that had clearly once held some kind of meat dish on the table, so perhaps he'd been sent out to buy more.
"Just what you're thinking." Evidently the wine was keeping Holo warm, as she seemed to find the cold air that came through the window quite pleasant.
"Honestly...don't drive him too hard now."
Lawrence picked up the wine cask that was on the table and sat on the little bed with which the small room had been provided.
It was a poorly made bed to be sure, but to those used to traveling like livestock in the cramped conditions of a ship, it was as fine as any royal canopy bed.
Of course, if relaxing in a room like this with a cup of wine in one hand was all most people needed to feel better once they were released onto dry land after being packed into a ship's hold, then there'd be no need for the Church's sermons.
Holo had probably rented the room without knowing any of this, and once she did become aware of it, she seemed vaguely uncomfortable.
"So, did you hear anything new?" she asked while facing out, her head cocked against the windowpane and her eyes closed, the breeze caressing her cheek.
| A closer look revealed that her ears were minutely twitching in time to the sound, so it had to be the former.
"Does it look like I did?" Lawrence took a drink of the sweet wine, which was perfectly suited for relaxation.
"Aye. You seem pleased."
Though her eyes were still closed, it was as though she could still see right through him.
Lawrence rubbed his face and smiled sheepishly. "Pleased?"
Though he was confident he had erased all traces of his conversation with Eve from his expression, Holo's reluctantly opened eyes had a certain mean smile in them. "You're a century too young to try lying to me."
For a moment, Lawrence wondered if she had somehow overheard his conversation at the spring all the way from here but quickly realized that was not the case.
It was a bluff.
Lawrence put his hand to his forehead with a sigh in front of Holo, whose tail swished happily.
"Well, 'tis true I took notice of your pleased face. If you're tripped up by such a ruse, you've much to learn yet."
"...I'll keep that in mind."
"'Tis doubtful whether you'll be able to fit it in that wee mind of yours," Holo said impishly, ducking her head and grinning.
"...I see. Anyway, it's not quite true that I'm pleased. To be honest, it's the sort of story that makes me want strong wine rather than sweet."
"Aye?" Holo uncrossed her legs and stood. She was slightly unsteady. The wine was probably catching up to her. "Ho...'tis a bit cold," she said, sitting next to Lawrence and leaning against him.
Lawrence found himself thinking of the many travelers who found themselves in a similar position after being released from their harsh sea voyages and took what solace they could in a brief tryst.
But this was Holo.
She brought her feet up and turned her back to Lawrence, leaning against him and embracing her own tail.
Lawrence felt only a small twinge of disappointment—which was probably Holo's plan.
"So, of what tale did you hear tell?"
In contrast to Lawrence's very much-occupied mind, Holo was as she always was.
If he kept dwelling on this, she'd make a fool of him.
Lawrence exhaled slightly and answered, "The dark side of this town, I suppose."
"Oh, aye?"
"Simply put, it's a matter of debt and payment, but the amount is rather enormous."
Holo gulped down her wine as though it were the morning's first water.
It was sweet enough that it could be drunk that way, but she probably should have stopped.
Thinking as much, Lawrence reached for the small cask she was holding, when—
"Have you any notion of how many words I just swallowed with this wine?"
As it was, after Lawrence reached over, Holo was beneath his arm.
And suddenly, she was a wolf baring her fangs.
"If 'twas talk of money that was none of your concern, you ought to have been wagging your tail in delight. But you weren't—why, I wonder?"
Holo took another swig of wine and belched.
She then pushed the wine cask into Lawrence's still-outstretched hand.
"So, what did you discuss with that vixen?"
Evidently it was impossible to hide anything from Holo.
Lawrence grasped the cask and brought it to his own mouth, cursing his luck immediately thereafter.
Under his arm, Holo grinned.
The cask contained not wine, but goat's milk with honey—probably for Col.
If she had gone to the trouble of laying such a careful trap, he probably could have just told her the truth without rousing her anger.
Lawrence slowly opened his mouth. "...Eve, who so thoroughly got the best of us before, is being treated like a mere child here."
"Hmph."
"The town's powers that be are using her as a scapegoat. I had to tip my hat to her exploits in Lenos and on the Roam River, but here she's just a whipping boy. And it's just..."
Lawrence was worried he would be risking Holo's ire if he continued, but if he started hiding his true feelings after having gotten this far, she would surely be angrier still.
He finished with a single word.
"...Sad."
Holo said nothing and did not return his gaze.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | A closer look revealed that her ears were minutely twitching in time to the sound, so it had to be the former.
"Does it look like I did?" Lawrence took a drink of the sweet wine, which was perfectly suited for relaxation.
"Aye. You seem pleased."
Though her eyes were still closed, it was as though she could still see right through him.
Lawrence rubbed his face and smiled sheepishly. "Pleased?"
Though he was confident he had erased all traces of his conversation with Eve from his expression, Holo's reluctantly opened eyes had a certain mean smile in them. "You're a century too young to try lying to me."
For a moment, Lawrence wondered if she had somehow overheard his conversation at the spring all the way from here but quickly realized that was not the case.
It was a bluff.
Lawrence put his hand to his forehead with a sigh in front of Holo, whose tail swished happily.
"Well, 'tis true I took notice of your pleased face. If you're tripped up by such a ruse, you've much to learn yet."
"...I'll keep that in mind."
"'Tis doubtful whether you'll be able to fit it in that wee mind of yours," Holo said impishly, ducking her head and grinning.
"...I see. Anyway, it's not quite true that I'm pleased. To be honest, it's the sort of story that makes me want strong wine rather than sweet."
"Aye?" Holo uncrossed her legs and stood. She was slightly unsteady. The wine was probably catching up to her. "Ho...'tis a bit cold," she said, sitting next to Lawrence and leaning against him.
Lawrence found himself thinking of the many travelers who found themselves in a similar position after being released from their harsh sea voyages and took what solace they could in a brief tryst.
But this was Holo.
She brought her feet up and turned her back to Lawrence, leaning against him and embracing her own tail.
Lawrence felt only a small twinge of disappointment—which was probably Holo's plan.
"So, of what tale did you hear tell?"
In contrast to Lawrence's very much-occupied mind, Holo was as she always was.
If he kept dwelling on this, she'd make a fool of him.
Lawrence exhaled slightly and answered, "The dark side of this town, I suppose."
"Oh, aye?"
"Simply put, it's a matter of debt and payment, but the amount is rather enormous."
Holo gulped down her wine as though it were the morning's first water.
It was sweet enough that it could be drunk that way, but she probably should have stopped.
Thinking as much, Lawrence reached for the small cask she was holding, when—
"Have you any notion of how many words I just swallowed with this wine?"
As it was, after Lawrence reached over, Holo was beneath his arm.
And suddenly, she was a wolf baring her fangs.
"If 'twas talk of money that was none of your concern, you ought to have been wagging your tail in delight. But you weren't—why, I wonder?"
Holo took another swig of wine and belched.
She then pushed the wine cask into Lawrence's still-outstretched hand.
"So, what did you discuss with that vixen?"
Evidently it was impossible to hide anything from Holo.
Lawrence grasped the cask and brought it to his own mouth, cursing his luck immediately thereafter.
Under his arm, Holo grinned.
The cask contained not wine, but goat's milk with honey—probably for Col.
If she had gone to the trouble of laying such a careful trap, he probably could have just told her the truth without rousing her anger.
Lawrence slowly opened his mouth. "...Eve, who so thoroughly got the best of us before, is being treated like a mere child here."
"Hmph."
"The town's powers that be are using her as a scapegoat. I had to tip my hat to her exploits in Lenos and on the Roam River, but here she's just a whipping boy. And it's just..."
Lawrence was worried he would be risking Holo's ire if he continued, but if he started hiding his true feelings after having gotten this far, she would surely be angrier still.
He finished with a single word.
"...Sad."
Holo said nothing and did not return his gaze.
| "Things happen even to a merchant like Eve. So what does that mean for me, over whom she triumphed so thoroughly? I can't help but wonder. Don't you want people who best you...to go on to further success?"
Lawrence knew that there was always a bigger fish, and he was too old to believe that he was somehow an exception to the ways of the world. He had not complained like this in many years.
However, that was not because he had somehow become stronger with age.
It was because he had learned the reality that, during the long, lonely journeys of a traveling merchant, there would be no one by his side to cheer him up when he indulged in worry and sadness.
But now—
Lawrence smiled wryly.
She might roll her eyes or show him contempt, but at least he could call it a reaction of some kind.
It was enough—enough for him to face what he had ignored for so long and to move forward.
"Listen here, you," said Holo.
"Hmm?"
After a moment of silence, she looked up. "Listening to you talk made me mad enough for two."
"...I see."
"But now looking at your face, I'm thrice angry."
"Well, you eat enough for five, so you've got two left to go," joked Lawrence, and Holo elbowed him in the ribs and sat up.
"The first is that by your reasoning, I'm a pathetic fool for being your companion."
That made sense, so Lawrence stayed silent.
"The second is because only a pup would despair at such a foolish notion."
"I won't argue."
"And as for the last—" Holo knelt on the bed, her hands on her hips as she looked down at Lawrence.
She wore a displeased expression, but he wondered why it was that he detected a trace of foolishness there as well.
He soon realized that it was not his imagination.
"...To see you turn tail and behave in a manner so unbecoming a full-grown male, when on your face..."
"...My face?" Lawrence replied, which Holo nodded at after a short hesitation.
"You speak of such weakness, and yet"—Holo looked away—"your face says you could go off on your own at any moment."
Lawrence knew he could not laugh.
But by the time the thought came to him, it was too late, and Holo—whose cheeks were flushed with something besides wine—bared her teeth, her ears standing up.
Lawrence calmed himself and replied, "But if I looked as though I couldn't continue on alone, you'd rail at me without mercy, would you not?"
Holo looked displeased.
And yet, after growling bitterly for a while, she sat down with a nod.
Her tail wagged grandly to and fro, and she sighed in irritation. "Naturally, I would. I'd rail at you, toy with you, tease you, and when you still followed me, I'd be entirely delighted."
"I'd...just as soon avoid that."
"Fool," Holo said.
Lawrence chose that moment to pull his hand back, and soft as a cotton ball, she fell toward him.
Of course, he knew what she was angry about.
In his arms, she pouted, sullen.
"Do you want me to say I was in the wrong?"
"You are ever in the wrong."
***
Holo was Lawrence's traveling companion, and Lawrence was Holo's.
It was not one or the other—the ideal was for each of them to support the other.
Lawrence was not always the one making Holo angry, nor was Holo always the angry one.
Strange though it was to say, Lawrence needed to find the courage to be a weakling.
To admit that he needed her support.
Even if she cursed him for it.
"Still, don't you think it's strange?"
"Aye?" inquired Holo in his arms, not looking up.
"If that's all true, why am I the one who ends up comforting you?"
Holo's ears flicked up, tickling Lawrence's cheek.
She looked up, a delighted malice in her eyes, and spoke. "Because 'tis my particular privilege, that is why."
"Ugh...still, I suppose that's how I like you, so it's my own fault."
"Heh," Holo giggled, nestling in closer.
But Lawrence could guess where this was going.
"Hey, are you going to use Col to tease me...again...?" His words trailed off suddenly.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Things happen even to a merchant like Eve. So what does that mean for me, over whom she triumphed so thoroughly? I can't help but wonder. Don't you want people who best you...to go on to further success?"
Lawrence knew that there was always a bigger fish, and he was too old to believe that he was somehow an exception to the ways of the world. He had not complained like this in many years.
However, that was not because he had somehow become stronger with age.
It was because he had learned the reality that, during the long, lonely journeys of a traveling merchant, there would be no one by his side to cheer him up when he indulged in worry and sadness.
But now—
Lawrence smiled wryly.
She might roll her eyes or show him contempt, but at least he could call it a reaction of some kind.
It was enough—enough for him to face what he had ignored for so long and to move forward.
"Listen here, you," said Holo.
"Hmm?"
After a moment of silence, she looked up. "Listening to you talk made me mad enough for two."
"...I see."
"But now looking at your face, I'm thrice angry."
"Well, you eat enough for five, so you've got two left to go," joked Lawrence, and Holo elbowed him in the ribs and sat up.
"The first is that by your reasoning, I'm a pathetic fool for being your companion."
That made sense, so Lawrence stayed silent.
"The second is because only a pup would despair at such a foolish notion."
"I won't argue."
"And as for the last—" Holo knelt on the bed, her hands on her hips as she looked down at Lawrence.
She wore a displeased expression, but he wondered why it was that he detected a trace of foolishness there as well.
He soon realized that it was not his imagination.
"...To see you turn tail and behave in a manner so unbecoming a full-grown male, when on your face..."
"...My face?" Lawrence replied, which Holo nodded at after a short hesitation.
"You speak of such weakness, and yet"—Holo looked away—"your face says you could go off on your own at any moment."
Lawrence knew he could not laugh.
But by the time the thought came to him, it was too late, and Holo—whose cheeks were flushed with something besides wine—bared her teeth, her ears standing up.
Lawrence calmed himself and replied, "But if I looked as though I couldn't continue on alone, you'd rail at me without mercy, would you not?"
Holo looked displeased.
And yet, after growling bitterly for a while, she sat down with a nod.
Her tail wagged grandly to and fro, and she sighed in irritation. "Naturally, I would. I'd rail at you, toy with you, tease you, and when you still followed me, I'd be entirely delighted."
"I'd...just as soon avoid that."
"Fool," Holo said.
Lawrence chose that moment to pull his hand back, and soft as a cotton ball, she fell toward him.
Of course, he knew what she was angry about.
In his arms, she pouted, sullen.
"Do you want me to say I was in the wrong?"
"You are ever in the wrong."
***
Holo was Lawrence's traveling companion, and Lawrence was Holo's.
It was not one or the other—the ideal was for each of them to support the other.
Lawrence was not always the one making Holo angry, nor was Holo always the angry one.
Strange though it was to say, Lawrence needed to find the courage to be a weakling.
To admit that he needed her support.
Even if she cursed him for it.
"Still, don't you think it's strange?"
"Aye?" inquired Holo in his arms, not looking up.
"If that's all true, why am I the one who ends up comforting you?"
Holo's ears flicked up, tickling Lawrence's cheek.
She looked up, a delighted malice in her eyes, and spoke. "Because 'tis my particular privilege, that is why."
"Ugh...still, I suppose that's how I like you, so it's my own fault."
"Heh," Holo giggled, nestling in closer.
But Lawrence could guess where this was going.
"Hey, are you going to use Col to tease me...again...?" His words trailed off suddenly.
| Even when confessing her weakness, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu did so in grand form, Lawrence thought.
Regardless of the inappropriateness of the notion, he couldn't help thinking it.
He respectfully stroked her small head.
"You know that I'm a coward, don't you? I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, terrified. So don't worry on that count," said Lawrence, and Holo buried her face in his chest as if to wipe her tears, shaking her head.
"I hate it!"
He had to respect her, persisting in her selfishness even now.
Lawrence smiled sadly and scratched the base of Holo's ears. "Whenever I decide something, I consult with you. That's what you mean, isn't it?"
"Despite your offering to me, I hate that things are changed left and right without my thoughts being solicited."
Perhaps she had chosen a familiar example purposely, but if that was the case, then it meant Lawrence's feelings for Holo were essentially alms.
"So my feelings are an offering?"
"I should think one is necessary for prayer."
Holo's ears twitched, and Lawrence smiled.
"A prayer for what?" he asked.
"For the boy Col to come."
It was frustrating, but he could hardly deny it.
Holo smiled and closed her eyes.
This had to be something very important to her for Holo to state her true feelings so plainly.
The most frustrating part of business was having something decided above one's head.
During the long months and years Holo had spent as a village's harvest god, that was how she had felt.
When the Moon-Hunting Bear came to her homelands, she had not even heard about it.
Though it concerned her, it was decided without her knowledge—the definition of isolation.
And she was tired of it.
This was probably something Lawrence needed to clearly understand, but if she waited for him to do so, there was no telling how long it would take.
He was sure that was the answer he would receive were he to ask.
"Still, 'tis quite a knack being able to pick the right time to lay a trap for you. 'Tis pleasant sometimes."
Beside him, Holo smiled nastily. Simultaneously, her wolf ears turned toward the hall as if detecting prey.
The meaning was plain enough, but it seemed the wisewolf was not such a boring hunter as to lay the same trap twice.
"Don't think you'll always be able to trick me."
Holo showed her fangs in a wordless smile, moving away from Lawrence to sit again upon the windowsill.
Though the sweet taste of honey lingered in Lawrence's mouth, he could not restrain the bitter smile that rose at being so easily discarded.
However, if he were to look at the door from which there came a perfectly timed knock, he would easily fall into Holo's trap.
"Sorry to keep you waiting!"
The door opened to reveal—of course—Col.
"Aye, and wait we did. Where's the wine?"
"Er, it's right—oh, there's enough for you, too, Mr. Lawrence."
"You hardly needed to buy so much! Ah, 'tis such a waste."
Lawrence couldn't help but smile at Holo and Col's exchange.
Of course, the biggest reason for his smile was the realization that for someone who could change her expressions and moods so easily, laying a trap for the likes of the boy was child's play.
It was truly terrifying.
So terrifying, in fact, that Lawrence chose a piece of salty, spicy jerky, and bit into it voraciously.
"So, is there anything we can use in all this talk you overheard?" Holo had no words of thanks for Col, despite having used him as her errand boy, and spoke to Lawrence instead.
Of course, there was also the fact that he was rather impressed.
Col had skillfully used his battered cloak as a bag, which he was able to sling over his shoulder. Holo may have maliciously ordered him to go buy large amounts of food and wine, but he had carried out the charge without difficulty.
Probably out of frustration, Holo did not deign to thank him for his efforts.
In any case, Col was such a talented lad that were he to become a merchant's apprentice, a bidding war would no doubt ensue.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Even when confessing her weakness, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu did so in grand form, Lawrence thought.
Regardless of the inappropriateness of the notion, he couldn't help thinking it.
He respectfully stroked her small head.
"You know that I'm a coward, don't you? I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, terrified. So don't worry on that count," said Lawrence, and Holo buried her face in his chest as if to wipe her tears, shaking her head.
"I hate it!"
He had to respect her, persisting in her selfishness even now.
Lawrence smiled sadly and scratched the base of Holo's ears. "Whenever I decide something, I consult with you. That's what you mean, isn't it?"
"Despite your offering to me, I hate that things are changed left and right without my thoughts being solicited."
Perhaps she had chosen a familiar example purposely, but if that was the case, then it meant Lawrence's feelings for Holo were essentially alms.
"So my feelings are an offering?"
"I should think one is necessary for prayer."
Holo's ears twitched, and Lawrence smiled.
"A prayer for what?" he asked.
"For the boy Col to come."
It was frustrating, but he could hardly deny it.
Holo smiled and closed her eyes.
This had to be something very important to her for Holo to state her true feelings so plainly.
The most frustrating part of business was having something decided above one's head.
During the long months and years Holo had spent as a village's harvest god, that was how she had felt.
When the Moon-Hunting Bear came to her homelands, she had not even heard about it.
Though it concerned her, it was decided without her knowledge—the definition of isolation.
And she was tired of it.
This was probably something Lawrence needed to clearly understand, but if she waited for him to do so, there was no telling how long it would take.
He was sure that was the answer he would receive were he to ask.
"Still, 'tis quite a knack being able to pick the right time to lay a trap for you. 'Tis pleasant sometimes."
Beside him, Holo smiled nastily. Simultaneously, her wolf ears turned toward the hall as if detecting prey.
The meaning was plain enough, but it seemed the wisewolf was not such a boring hunter as to lay the same trap twice.
"Don't think you'll always be able to trick me."
Holo showed her fangs in a wordless smile, moving away from Lawrence to sit again upon the windowsill.
Though the sweet taste of honey lingered in Lawrence's mouth, he could not restrain the bitter smile that rose at being so easily discarded.
However, if he were to look at the door from which there came a perfectly timed knock, he would easily fall into Holo's trap.
"Sorry to keep you waiting!"
The door opened to reveal—of course—Col.
"Aye, and wait we did. Where's the wine?"
"Er, it's right—oh, there's enough for you, too, Mr. Lawrence."
"You hardly needed to buy so much! Ah, 'tis such a waste."
Lawrence couldn't help but smile at Holo and Col's exchange.
Of course, the biggest reason for his smile was the realization that for someone who could change her expressions and moods so easily, laying a trap for the likes of the boy was child's play.
It was truly terrifying.
So terrifying, in fact, that Lawrence chose a piece of salty, spicy jerky, and bit into it voraciously.
"So, is there anything we can use in all this talk you overheard?" Holo had no words of thanks for Col, despite having used him as her errand boy, and spoke to Lawrence instead.
Of course, there was also the fact that he was rather impressed.
Col had skillfully used his battered cloak as a bag, which he was able to sling over his shoulder. Holo may have maliciously ordered him to go buy large amounts of food and wine, but he had carried out the charge without difficulty.
Probably out of frustration, Holo did not deign to thank him for his efforts.
In any case, Col was such a talented lad that were he to become a merchant's apprentice, a bidding war would no doubt ensue.
| "I'm listening."
"I wonder."
"It's probably worth investigating. It seems the bigwigs of the north side borrowed the money to build the marketplace, and they're keen to pay it off. And it's gotten so bad that over at the Jean Company, where we were mistaken for powerful, crafty merchants, they've got a mule yawning in front of the eaves ready to go, and they're not even gathering their chickens' eggs."
Holo chewed a cooked shellfish.
In her place, Col spoke up. "His profits are being snatched away?"
"Yes. The Jean Company deals exclusively with copper from the Roam River region, but the profits are being stolen away by the north-side bigwigs. Which means—"
Holo washed down the shellfish with a slug of wine, then burped. "—Which means 'tis no surprise he went so angrily in for all this talk of absurd profit."
"Yes, well, that too. Also—" Lawrence brought a piece of fried, silver-scaled fish whose name he did not know to his mouth.
The last time he had given a trenni to Holo, she had spent the entire sum on apples.
She seemed as ignorant of the word restraint as ever.
"—Reynolds seemed slightly suspicious."
"Mm. Well, he is surely hiding something."
Col looked up at Lawrence's and Holo's faces in surprise. "Huh?"
"It's not too hard to guess at what. If he were using the story of the wolf remains to hide something, then—?"
"Hiding his ears without hiding his tail, eh?" Holo analogized as she flicked both.
But their opponent was a merchant.
"There's a saying—'A fearsome hawk is one that hides its talons.' I think what he was hiding was not his ears, but his horns."
"Also, when you were parting, he gave you quite the fierce handshake, did he not?"
So she had been watching that.
Lawrence nodded, picking a fish scale out of his teeth. "When he told me to give his regards to Eve Bolan, he meant either her money, her business skill, or her connections."
"That vixen just spent all her money on those furs. We might not know the state of her coin purse, aye, but surely there are other places from which he would borrow money," said Holo, directing a teasing smile at Lawrence.
She was referring to Lawrence's frantic attempts to borrow money when he himself had been on the verge of ruin.
"...Which leaves either her talent or her connections. Either way, aren't the actors and the stage a little too perfectly matched?"
Holo gave only a thin smile and looked lazily outside.
Lawrence, for his part, ate steadily from the food on the table while Col, cask held between his hands, looked back and forth between his companions.
It was not as though they were quarreling.
Col was a bright lad.
While he didn't usually think to doubt people, when that possibility was pointed out to him, he had a good enough head to think it through.
Essentially, from their individual impressions, Holo and Lawrence had each drawn their own sketches.
Col heard the fragments and wanted to know what sort of picture they added up to.
"E-excuse me!" Col raised his hand and stood.
No matter how strict and harsh the scholar, he surely could not fail to find this dedication charming.
It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if jealous classmates had been the ones to silence Col.
"Could...could Reynolds still be looking for the remains even now?"
Holo did not reply.
But having taken classes with strict, difficult professors, Col was undeterred. "If what Reynolds is hiding is the fact that he's still searching for the remains, then he should have politely sent us on our way. So did he welcome us in because of Eve's letter? If so, that would mean the reason he wanted your handshake when we were leaving was..."
Col thought.
He had no knowledge of how much talent as a merchant Eve possessed.
Which meant he would draw conclusions based on his various impressions.
How would this scene appear to Col's eye?
"The reason is because he wants your help in searching for the wolf remains, isn't it?"
This was just another question, and yet the impression it carried was very different.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I'm listening."
"I wonder."
"It's probably worth investigating. It seems the bigwigs of the north side borrowed the money to build the marketplace, and they're keen to pay it off. And it's gotten so bad that over at the Jean Company, where we were mistaken for powerful, crafty merchants, they've got a mule yawning in front of the eaves ready to go, and they're not even gathering their chickens' eggs."
Holo chewed a cooked shellfish.
In her place, Col spoke up. "His profits are being snatched away?"
"Yes. The Jean Company deals exclusively with copper from the Roam River region, but the profits are being stolen away by the north-side bigwigs. Which means—"
Holo washed down the shellfish with a slug of wine, then burped. "—Which means 'tis no surprise he went so angrily in for all this talk of absurd profit."
"Yes, well, that too. Also—" Lawrence brought a piece of fried, silver-scaled fish whose name he did not know to his mouth.
The last time he had given a trenni to Holo, she had spent the entire sum on apples.
She seemed as ignorant of the word restraint as ever.
"—Reynolds seemed slightly suspicious."
"Mm. Well, he is surely hiding something."
Col looked up at Lawrence's and Holo's faces in surprise. "Huh?"
"It's not too hard to guess at what. If he were using the story of the wolf remains to hide something, then—?"
"Hiding his ears without hiding his tail, eh?" Holo analogized as she flicked both.
But their opponent was a merchant.
"There's a saying—'A fearsome hawk is one that hides its talons.' I think what he was hiding was not his ears, but his horns."
"Also, when you were parting, he gave you quite the fierce handshake, did he not?"
So she had been watching that.
Lawrence nodded, picking a fish scale out of his teeth. "When he told me to give his regards to Eve Bolan, he meant either her money, her business skill, or her connections."
"That vixen just spent all her money on those furs. We might not know the state of her coin purse, aye, but surely there are other places from which he would borrow money," said Holo, directing a teasing smile at Lawrence.
She was referring to Lawrence's frantic attempts to borrow money when he himself had been on the verge of ruin.
"...Which leaves either her talent or her connections. Either way, aren't the actors and the stage a little too perfectly matched?"
Holo gave only a thin smile and looked lazily outside.
Lawrence, for his part, ate steadily from the food on the table while Col, cask held between his hands, looked back and forth between his companions.
It was not as though they were quarreling.
Col was a bright lad.
While he didn't usually think to doubt people, when that possibility was pointed out to him, he had a good enough head to think it through.
Essentially, from their individual impressions, Holo and Lawrence had each drawn their own sketches.
Col heard the fragments and wanted to know what sort of picture they added up to.
"E-excuse me!" Col raised his hand and stood.
No matter how strict and harsh the scholar, he surely could not fail to find this dedication charming.
It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if jealous classmates had been the ones to silence Col.
"Could...could Reynolds still be looking for the remains even now?"
Holo did not reply.
But having taken classes with strict, difficult professors, Col was undeterred. "If what Reynolds is hiding is the fact that he's still searching for the remains, then he should have politely sent us on our way. So did he welcome us in because of Eve's letter? If so, that would mean the reason he wanted your handshake when we were leaving was..."
Col thought.
He had no knowledge of how much talent as a merchant Eve possessed.
Which meant he would draw conclusions based on his various impressions.
How would this scene appear to Col's eye?
"The reason is because he wants your help in searching for the wolf remains, isn't it?"
This was just another question, and yet the impression it carried was very different.
| Then, smiling faintly, she turned to Lawrence. "What of it?"
Lawrence waved her off as if to say, "Do you even need to ask?"
Regardless of whether or not it was the truth, it was an easy conclusion to make.
"Also, if we imagine that, then it's obvious why Eve so readily drafted a letter for us. Since this is Eve we're talking about, she would've known ahead of time that Reynolds wanted to cooperate with her in finding the remains. But since the story is what it is, she was careful, dodging our questions. Or she might not believe it to be true. Either way, Reynolds wants Eve's help badly. What's Eve thinking? She's as cunning as a wolf, so at first she probably turned him down because of the absurdity of the story, but then we appeared, and she thought, What if? But it would be unwise for her to ask Reynolds directly. So what does she do? Suddenly, some people appear right before her eyes, begging to be used."
"Aha," pronounced Holo in a voice like an old woman's, chuckling to herself.
If this interpretation was on point, it showed that Reynolds definitely thought Eve was evincing some interest in the remains.
That in turn explained the sudden change in Reynolds's attitude when Col asked if he had found the remains.
Reynolds had been surprised and dismayed—either angry at what would have been a halfhearted attempt at reconnaissance or imagining that Lawrence and company were taking their orders from Eve and acting as scouts.
They had been treated to a meal not because they had been sent by Eve, but rather because Reynolds probably thought of them as simple sheep that Eve was carefully leading about.
The obvious thing for him to do, then, would not be to engage in a lot of roundabout conversation and try to merely insinuate his true intent, but rather treat them to an easily understood meal.
So the activities at the trading company could be dismantled.
Even the most sinewy old goat could be butchered as long as one knew where to stick the knife.
"So then, what shall we do?" asked Holo in a very matter-of-fact tone.
But Lawrence got the sense that her amber eyes were tinged redder than usual.
Her anger had surely returned the instant the notion that, despite deceiving them with its poor appearance, the Jean Company was still pursuing the wolf remains began to gather real weight.
And there was no doubt that Holo was thinking, This time for certain.
This time, for certain, she wanted to engage a vexing situation with her own fangs, claws, and brains. She would not let them get away with it.
This she was surely thinking.
And so she wanted her companion Lawrence's answer.
"It's obvious..." Lawrence was about to continue when he felt another gaze upon him.
Though he was keeping his mouth tightly shut, Col's feelings seemed not terribly different from Holo's.
"We'll investigate. And if there's nothing there, that's fine."
This was not one man's merchant journey.
It was not even the journey of two.
It felt quite good to see everybody's views in alignment and thereby decide on a course of action.
He could see why the nobility competed so as to lead their knight brigades into battle.
Though doing such things too often would be tiring.
Holo had once shouldered the responsibility for an entire town, and it had turned bitter.
In the end, she was never even thanked.
He realized this was the first time he had been in this position, and that when he had first met the crying, dejected Holo, he had barely managed to improvise any comfort for her at all.
And yet he quite thoroughly thought of himself as Holo's guardian, which allowed Holo to easily trip him up.
Lawrence, who must have seemed barely older than Col to Holo, hid his smile from her.
He then took a deep breath and straightened his expression, speaking like a military commander. "Right, let me explain each of your roles."
Col looked serious, and Holo feigned seriousness, as both of them turned their ears to Lawrence's plan.
***
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Then, smiling faintly, she turned to Lawrence. "What of it?"
Lawrence waved her off as if to say, "Do you even need to ask?"
Regardless of whether or not it was the truth, it was an easy conclusion to make.
"Also, if we imagine that, then it's obvious why Eve so readily drafted a letter for us. Since this is Eve we're talking about, she would've known ahead of time that Reynolds wanted to cooperate with her in finding the remains. But since the story is what it is, she was careful, dodging our questions. Or she might not believe it to be true. Either way, Reynolds wants Eve's help badly. What's Eve thinking? She's as cunning as a wolf, so at first she probably turned him down because of the absurdity of the story, but then we appeared, and she thought, What if? But it would be unwise for her to ask Reynolds directly. So what does she do? Suddenly, some people appear right before her eyes, begging to be used."
"Aha," pronounced Holo in a voice like an old woman's, chuckling to herself.
If this interpretation was on point, it showed that Reynolds definitely thought Eve was evincing some interest in the remains.
That in turn explained the sudden change in Reynolds's attitude when Col asked if he had found the remains.
Reynolds had been surprised and dismayed—either angry at what would have been a halfhearted attempt at reconnaissance or imagining that Lawrence and company were taking their orders from Eve and acting as scouts.
They had been treated to a meal not because they had been sent by Eve, but rather because Reynolds probably thought of them as simple sheep that Eve was carefully leading about.
The obvious thing for him to do, then, would not be to engage in a lot of roundabout conversation and try to merely insinuate his true intent, but rather treat them to an easily understood meal.
So the activities at the trading company could be dismantled.
Even the most sinewy old goat could be butchered as long as one knew where to stick the knife.
"So then, what shall we do?" asked Holo in a very matter-of-fact tone.
But Lawrence got the sense that her amber eyes were tinged redder than usual.
Her anger had surely returned the instant the notion that, despite deceiving them with its poor appearance, the Jean Company was still pursuing the wolf remains began to gather real weight.
And there was no doubt that Holo was thinking, This time for certain.
This time, for certain, she wanted to engage a vexing situation with her own fangs, claws, and brains. She would not let them get away with it.
This she was surely thinking.
And so she wanted her companion Lawrence's answer.
"It's obvious..." Lawrence was about to continue when he felt another gaze upon him.
Though he was keeping his mouth tightly shut, Col's feelings seemed not terribly different from Holo's.
"We'll investigate. And if there's nothing there, that's fine."
This was not one man's merchant journey.
It was not even the journey of two.
It felt quite good to see everybody's views in alignment and thereby decide on a course of action.
He could see why the nobility competed so as to lead their knight brigades into battle.
Though doing such things too often would be tiring.
Holo had once shouldered the responsibility for an entire town, and it had turned bitter.
In the end, she was never even thanked.
He realized this was the first time he had been in this position, and that when he had first met the crying, dejected Holo, he had barely managed to improvise any comfort for her at all.
And yet he quite thoroughly thought of himself as Holo's guardian, which allowed Holo to easily trip him up.
Lawrence, who must have seemed barely older than Col to Holo, hid his smile from her.
He then took a deep breath and straightened his expression, speaking like a military commander. "Right, let me explain each of your roles."
Col looked serious, and Holo feigned seriousness, as both of them turned their ears to Lawrence's plan.
***
| Col stopped to look up at Lawrence, and Holo mercilessly took the opportunity to slam her foot down on Col's.
"I win!" she exclaimed proudly while Col humbly admitted, "I suppose I lost," making it difficult to tell exactly who was the child.
Of course, it is said the older one gets, the more one returns to childhood, and perhaps that was not wrong.
"Now, then," said Lawrence, and Col and Holo, looking almost like twins thanks to their similar heights, both turned back to him. "You've memorized your roles, then?"
"Yes!"
"Aye."
Col's answer was the swifter.
Lawrence had a sudden vision of what he must have looked like as a student in the capital of learning, Aquent.
By contrast, Holo's answer was curt and rude, and she yawned loudly.
"I'm a little nervous," confessed Col.
"Don't worry. If there's one piece of advice I can give, it's that the secret to telling a lie is telling yourself that depending on how you think about it, it's actually the truth. That way you're not actually lying," Lawrence advised in response to Col's uncertain smile.
"Er...no, I'm all right. I'll make sure to gather all the stories."
The boy seemed like a young knight bracing himself for his first battle. Lawrence patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you will," he added.
To Lawrence's eye, Col would mature to match as much responsibility as he was given.
He was not a mere slate-toting, chalk-dusted boy from Aquent.
He possessed the practical skills he had managed to gather after being deceived, expelled, and forced to travel.
Lawrence said he was sure Col would perform well, and it was no lie.
"So, we'll meet again in the evening."
"Yes." Col nodded, his expression entirely different from when he had been trying to step on Holo's feet, and walked off boldly.
Though his receding form was small, it bore a certain dignity.
Lawrence barely had time to wonder what his own back would have looked like at that age when he felt a tug at his sleeve.
It was Holo, and though she was hardly a working woman trying to lure in a customer, somehow she seemed even more vicious than that.
"So, shall I be off then, too?"
"Er, yes."
Holo strode off immediately, then looked back at Lawrence, whose feet were a bit slower. "Hmm?" she queried.
She was so fond of Col, and yet when it came time to put him through hardship, she was happy to do so.
Or was it that she simply thought that highly of him?
Lawrence didn't think poorly of the boy himself, but he found it harder to trust so completely.
"Will you really be all right on your own?" Lawrence could not prevent himself from asking.
They were on their way to the landing for the ferry headed to the south side of the town.
Since their collective had the advantage of containing three people, it would have been the height of stupidity to move in a group, so they had decided to split up to gather information.
Col would be posing as a traveling beggar and head to the north side to find out what the other beggars had to say about the Jean Company.
Holo would pretend to be a nun journeying north and head for the south-side church to determine its influence in the upper regions of the Roef and Roam Rivers.
And Lawrence would make for the Rowan Trade Guild branch in the delta marketplace to see how the Jean Company's business and the wolf remains were connected.
Both Holo and Col were more capable than he was, so there was probably no need for concern.
But Holo, with her ears and tail, was the personification of pagan faith.
Despite her being the sharpest talker and thinker of all of them, Lawrence was still uneasy at the prospect of letting her go alone.
"Perhaps—perhaps I should go with you—"
Holo was a few steps ahead of Lawrence as she began walking, cutting through the crowd.
When she looked back at him, he stopped short of continuing his statement.
"So 'tis well and good for the boy Col to go off on his own, but you haven't the conviction to let me go alone?" Her amber eyes were narrowed and flashed red.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Col stopped to look up at Lawrence, and Holo mercilessly took the opportunity to slam her foot down on Col's.
"I win!" she exclaimed proudly while Col humbly admitted, "I suppose I lost," making it difficult to tell exactly who was the child.
Of course, it is said the older one gets, the more one returns to childhood, and perhaps that was not wrong.
"Now, then," said Lawrence, and Col and Holo, looking almost like twins thanks to their similar heights, both turned back to him. "You've memorized your roles, then?"
"Yes!"
"Aye."
Col's answer was the swifter.
Lawrence had a sudden vision of what he must have looked like as a student in the capital of learning, Aquent.
By contrast, Holo's answer was curt and rude, and she yawned loudly.
"I'm a little nervous," confessed Col.
"Don't worry. If there's one piece of advice I can give, it's that the secret to telling a lie is telling yourself that depending on how you think about it, it's actually the truth. That way you're not actually lying," Lawrence advised in response to Col's uncertain smile.
"Er...no, I'm all right. I'll make sure to gather all the stories."
The boy seemed like a young knight bracing himself for his first battle. Lawrence patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you will," he added.
To Lawrence's eye, Col would mature to match as much responsibility as he was given.
He was not a mere slate-toting, chalk-dusted boy from Aquent.
He possessed the practical skills he had managed to gather after being deceived, expelled, and forced to travel.
Lawrence said he was sure Col would perform well, and it was no lie.
"So, we'll meet again in the evening."
"Yes." Col nodded, his expression entirely different from when he had been trying to step on Holo's feet, and walked off boldly.
Though his receding form was small, it bore a certain dignity.
Lawrence barely had time to wonder what his own back would have looked like at that age when he felt a tug at his sleeve.
It was Holo, and though she was hardly a working woman trying to lure in a customer, somehow she seemed even more vicious than that.
"So, shall I be off then, too?"
"Er, yes."
Holo strode off immediately, then looked back at Lawrence, whose feet were a bit slower. "Hmm?" she queried.
She was so fond of Col, and yet when it came time to put him through hardship, she was happy to do so.
Or was it that she simply thought that highly of him?
Lawrence didn't think poorly of the boy himself, but he found it harder to trust so completely.
"Will you really be all right on your own?" Lawrence could not prevent himself from asking.
They were on their way to the landing for the ferry headed to the south side of the town.
Since their collective had the advantage of containing three people, it would have been the height of stupidity to move in a group, so they had decided to split up to gather information.
Col would be posing as a traveling beggar and head to the north side to find out what the other beggars had to say about the Jean Company.
Holo would pretend to be a nun journeying north and head for the south-side church to determine its influence in the upper regions of the Roef and Roam Rivers.
And Lawrence would make for the Rowan Trade Guild branch in the delta marketplace to see how the Jean Company's business and the wolf remains were connected.
Both Holo and Col were more capable than he was, so there was probably no need for concern.
But Holo, with her ears and tail, was the personification of pagan faith.
Despite her being the sharpest talker and thinker of all of them, Lawrence was still uneasy at the prospect of letting her go alone.
"Perhaps—perhaps I should go with you—"
Holo was a few steps ahead of Lawrence as she began walking, cutting through the crowd.
When she looked back at him, he stopped short of continuing his statement.
"So 'tis well and good for the boy Col to go off on his own, but you haven't the conviction to let me go alone?" Her amber eyes were narrowed and flashed red.
| "That's not what I meant, but..."
"Aye, and what did you mean?"
Even if he could rationalize this or that aspect of his worry for Holo, at its core the concern was irrational.
But more importantly, Holo was angry.
"I'm sorry," he answered, and Holo promptly poked him in the chest.
"You fool."
***
Holo glared at him, angrier every moment, then suddenly turned away indignantly.
Lawrence rubbed the spot on his chest she had inexplicably prodded, and after a moment, Holo sighed and looked back at him. "You truly are a terribly clumsy ruler."
"Ruler?"
"A terribly clumsy one, yes," she repeated, and Lawrence scratched his head. "Firstly, I haven't the faintest notion why you wouldn't let me go alone in this situation."
As ever, Lawrence did not understand what she was talking about. "Well, I mean...just, if something were to happen..."
"Aye, and the same holds true for Col. Listen, you—"
"A-all right..." Lawrence straightened himself in response to Holo's sudden awkwardness, as if she were trying to articulate something difficult to express.
Holo turned her gaze from the riverbank back to Lawrence, and he found her countenance accusatory.
If his memory served, she was trying to hide her embarrassment over something.
"You're the general awaiting my report, are you not? And Col and I are your hands. So if you'll only put us each to hard use, you'd better hold our reins."
Lawrence could see the ferry drift into view, approaching the dock as it crossed the busy river.
At the same time, he had a vague sense of what Holo meant. "Because success and wanting me to praise you are the same?"
Holo made a pained expression and looked away. So that had to be it.
And it was probably true.
He had but to praise Holo if she were more successful than Col and console her if she failed.
But if he helped Holo with her duty, Col would be the only one praised or consoled.
She was right about that, Lawrence knew, but there was still something he did not understand—and that was the reason why Holo, whose embarrassment was no act, would tell him this.
The ferry had arrived at the pier, but owing to the crowd, they had to wait in line.
Holo looked like she was making a great effort not to let her ears and tail move about too much beneath her robe. "You wish to have a shop of your own someday, do you not? If so, you've much to learn about using others," she said.
"Ah—" Lawrence couldn't help but cover his mouth.
She was right.
If he had a shop, he would have to employ other people.
Sometimes he would need to control others, and other times he would require their loyalty.
And though Lawrence was accustomed to doing so one-on-one, when it came to larger groups of people, he had never even thought about it.
"And yet you dare to take hold of my reins?" Holo put a hand on her hip and cocked her head in mock disbelief.
Lawrence surrendered, though he kept his eye on the line, which had started to move. "That's what's so charming about me, right?" he asked with a taciturn mien, which did not appear to give Holo any great pleasure, and she replied with her head still cocked.
"Perhaps."
"Well, then, I'm counting on you."
"I can still see the worry in your face, but I shall take your words for what they're worth."
Lawrence paid the ferryman, explaining the circumstances and giving him enough for the return trip.
"Some wheat bread would be nice for dinner."
"If you succeed, yes," said Lawrence.
At this, Holo left him with a smile, and the hem of her robe whirled as she hopped aboard the ferry.
The town of Kerube was divided north from south by the river, and there was no church on the north side.
That was evidence that most pagans lived on the north side, while Church adherents were more prevalent on the south side. Historically, this evidently came from the fact that orthodox merchants tended to come up from the south and thus bought land and settled on the south side of the town.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "That's not what I meant, but..."
"Aye, and what did you mean?"
Even if he could rationalize this or that aspect of his worry for Holo, at its core the concern was irrational.
But more importantly, Holo was angry.
"I'm sorry," he answered, and Holo promptly poked him in the chest.
"You fool."
***
Holo glared at him, angrier every moment, then suddenly turned away indignantly.
Lawrence rubbed the spot on his chest she had inexplicably prodded, and after a moment, Holo sighed and looked back at him. "You truly are a terribly clumsy ruler."
"Ruler?"
"A terribly clumsy one, yes," she repeated, and Lawrence scratched his head. "Firstly, I haven't the faintest notion why you wouldn't let me go alone in this situation."
As ever, Lawrence did not understand what she was talking about. "Well, I mean...just, if something were to happen..."
"Aye, and the same holds true for Col. Listen, you—"
"A-all right..." Lawrence straightened himself in response to Holo's sudden awkwardness, as if she were trying to articulate something difficult to express.
Holo turned her gaze from the riverbank back to Lawrence, and he found her countenance accusatory.
If his memory served, she was trying to hide her embarrassment over something.
"You're the general awaiting my report, are you not? And Col and I are your hands. So if you'll only put us each to hard use, you'd better hold our reins."
Lawrence could see the ferry drift into view, approaching the dock as it crossed the busy river.
At the same time, he had a vague sense of what Holo meant. "Because success and wanting me to praise you are the same?"
Holo made a pained expression and looked away. So that had to be it.
And it was probably true.
He had but to praise Holo if she were more successful than Col and console her if she failed.
But if he helped Holo with her duty, Col would be the only one praised or consoled.
She was right about that, Lawrence knew, but there was still something he did not understand—and that was the reason why Holo, whose embarrassment was no act, would tell him this.
The ferry had arrived at the pier, but owing to the crowd, they had to wait in line.
Holo looked like she was making a great effort not to let her ears and tail move about too much beneath her robe. "You wish to have a shop of your own someday, do you not? If so, you've much to learn about using others," she said.
"Ah—" Lawrence couldn't help but cover his mouth.
She was right.
If he had a shop, he would have to employ other people.
Sometimes he would need to control others, and other times he would require their loyalty.
And though Lawrence was accustomed to doing so one-on-one, when it came to larger groups of people, he had never even thought about it.
"And yet you dare to take hold of my reins?" Holo put a hand on her hip and cocked her head in mock disbelief.
Lawrence surrendered, though he kept his eye on the line, which had started to move. "That's what's so charming about me, right?" he asked with a taciturn mien, which did not appear to give Holo any great pleasure, and she replied with her head still cocked.
"Perhaps."
"Well, then, I'm counting on you."
"I can still see the worry in your face, but I shall take your words for what they're worth."
Lawrence paid the ferryman, explaining the circumstances and giving him enough for the return trip.
"Some wheat bread would be nice for dinner."
"If you succeed, yes," said Lawrence.
At this, Holo left him with a smile, and the hem of her robe whirled as she hopped aboard the ferry.
The town of Kerube was divided north from south by the river, and there was no church on the north side.
That was evidence that most pagans lived on the north side, while Church adherents were more prevalent on the south side. Historically, this evidently came from the fact that orthodox merchants tended to come up from the south and thus bought land and settled on the south side of the town.
| On the north side, building heights and street widths were highly varied, while on the south side they were precisely regulated, the neat rows of buildings lining the streets. Lawrence was sure there were no bored-looking mules yawning in front of loading docks on the south side.
It was hard to tell from the north side, but from the delta marketplace, he could clearly see the towering spire that the south-side church had collected sufficient tithes to build, its height all too obviously reaching for the heavens, and within it, there in the closest place in the town to God, hung a beautiful golden bell.
Dressed as a nun, Holo was apparently going to try to collect information by claiming she was returning from the south to her homeland in the north, and asking whether her town was still under pagan control. Lawrence had carefully explained to her what sorts of questions Church people were likely to ask her, but even without that advice, Holo was more than quick tongued enough to get the information they needed.
Still, she and Lawrence had always stayed together when investigating things or formulating plans in the past, and sending her off to do it alone was a strange sensation.
Lawrence would undoubtedly feel the same way when he got a shop and hired people to help him.
But then it suddenly occurred to him to wonder if, when that time came, Holo would be there.
***
Lawrence scratched his head and sighed.
If that was the sort of thing he was worried about, then perhaps she should be the one concerned about leaving him alone, he was sure she would say.
Lawrence smiled to himself, watching Holo cross the river along with all the other passengers before eventually turning his back and walking away.
His destination was the delta marketplace branch of the Rowen Trade Guild.
He was not crossing the river with Holo and visiting the main office for the simple reason that the people with whom he was acquainted were not there.
In keeping with the delta marketplace's status as a crucial trade link between the north and south sides of the town, every trade guild kept an office there to connect with traveling comrades and collect information on goods. Since buildings were regulated, guilds could not use them to compete with one another the way they did in town, but they were still constructed to best show off each guild's specialties. Lawrence could look at each one and guess which trade guild it represented.
Dozens or hundreds of merchants were attached to each trade house, all desperately competing with one another, and when Lawrence thought of this, it seemed a wonder to him.
There was that much commerce in the world, and it had yet to run dry.
Lawrence knocked on the door of his familiar-looking guild, feeling as if he were knocking on the cabin door of a small ship afloat upon a very large sea.
"Oh, now, there's a rare face." There were several merchants on the first floor of the guild house, all of them dressed for travel.
"It's been too long, Kieman."
Within the room and directly opposite the door sat the master of the branch. The man, Kieman, with his beautiful blond hair, had been born to trade.
His father was a prominent trader in Kerube, and thanks to that, Kieman had seen more goods from distant lands than anyone else, despite never having traveled far. His features were easily fine enough to have been a bard's, and unlike the other merchants on the house's first floor, who were trading wine and gossip, he bore not a single callus on his hands.
Kieman was the prototypical rich man's son, but while it seemed that the road-dusted merchants would inevitably hate him, their trust in him was actually rather strong.
Although he was perhaps two years younger than Lawrence, unlike Lawrence, he made his living within a town.
Those who did business in a town had no need to seek skills like being able to walk all day and night without collapsing or how to do business with someone whose language they did not speak.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | On the north side, building heights and street widths were highly varied, while on the south side they were precisely regulated, the neat rows of buildings lining the streets. Lawrence was sure there were no bored-looking mules yawning in front of loading docks on the south side.
It was hard to tell from the north side, but from the delta marketplace, he could clearly see the towering spire that the south-side church had collected sufficient tithes to build, its height all too obviously reaching for the heavens, and within it, there in the closest place in the town to God, hung a beautiful golden bell.
Dressed as a nun, Holo was apparently going to try to collect information by claiming she was returning from the south to her homeland in the north, and asking whether her town was still under pagan control. Lawrence had carefully explained to her what sorts of questions Church people were likely to ask her, but even without that advice, Holo was more than quick tongued enough to get the information they needed.
Still, she and Lawrence had always stayed together when investigating things or formulating plans in the past, and sending her off to do it alone was a strange sensation.
Lawrence would undoubtedly feel the same way when he got a shop and hired people to help him.
But then it suddenly occurred to him to wonder if, when that time came, Holo would be there.
***
Lawrence scratched his head and sighed.
If that was the sort of thing he was worried about, then perhaps she should be the one concerned about leaving him alone, he was sure she would say.
Lawrence smiled to himself, watching Holo cross the river along with all the other passengers before eventually turning his back and walking away.
His destination was the delta marketplace branch of the Rowen Trade Guild.
He was not crossing the river with Holo and visiting the main office for the simple reason that the people with whom he was acquainted were not there.
In keeping with the delta marketplace's status as a crucial trade link between the north and south sides of the town, every trade guild kept an office there to connect with traveling comrades and collect information on goods. Since buildings were regulated, guilds could not use them to compete with one another the way they did in town, but they were still constructed to best show off each guild's specialties. Lawrence could look at each one and guess which trade guild it represented.
Dozens or hundreds of merchants were attached to each trade house, all desperately competing with one another, and when Lawrence thought of this, it seemed a wonder to him.
There was that much commerce in the world, and it had yet to run dry.
Lawrence knocked on the door of his familiar-looking guild, feeling as if he were knocking on the cabin door of a small ship afloat upon a very large sea.
"Oh, now, there's a rare face." There were several merchants on the first floor of the guild house, all of them dressed for travel.
"It's been too long, Kieman."
Within the room and directly opposite the door sat the master of the branch. The man, Kieman, with his beautiful blond hair, had been born to trade.
His father was a prominent trader in Kerube, and thanks to that, Kieman had seen more goods from distant lands than anyone else, despite never having traveled far. His features were easily fine enough to have been a bard's, and unlike the other merchants on the house's first floor, who were trading wine and gossip, he bore not a single callus on his hands.
Kieman was the prototypical rich man's son, but while it seemed that the road-dusted merchants would inevitably hate him, their trust in him was actually rather strong.
Although he was perhaps two years younger than Lawrence, unlike Lawrence, he made his living within a town.
Those who did business in a town had no need to seek skills like being able to walk all day and night without collapsing or how to do business with someone whose language they did not speak.
| "Indeed, it has, Kraft Lawrence. You've arrived this time by land, I take it?"
Perhaps no sea vessels had arrived in the past few days. "No, by ship—though it was via the river and not the sea."
At these words, Kieman brushed his chin with the feather end of his quill pen as he looked around the room.
It was said that he had thousands of maps' worth of knowledge of the land in his head.
Despite having met Lawrence but twice, he was searching his mind for the trade route by which Lawrence had arrived.
"I'm not on my usual route. There was some trouble in Lenos."
"Ah, I see."
Kieman's smile revealed even less than Holo's inscrutable smile.
Town merchants lived for decades in the same towns in which they were born, and in so doing, they learned all of one another's facial tics and tells, the better to divine one another's true intentions. As a result, town merchants were far craftier than traveling merchants. The fact of his youth made the young master of this branch office all the more imposing.
With effort, Lawrence kept his composure and produced the silver coins that were the customary offering upon visiting a trade house, then spoke.
"I saw rather an interesting show by the spring of gold."
"Heh. An interesting show, indeed, Mr. Lawrence—most impressive. Though it's a rather impenetrable display, even for a traveling merchant."
Not so much as glancing at the five trenni that Lawrence placed there, Kieman leaned across the counter and smiled like a child let in on a secret.
"One never knows where the sting may be laid, even in a seemingly transparent conversation. Even now Chief Jeeta at the main office is out and about, trying to protect our coin purses."
Of House Chief Jeeta, the man who headed the Rowen Trade Guild in Kerube, Lawrence knew nothing but his name, so there was a possibility he had been among the merchants Eve called out to.
Which would mean that despite Eve not living in Kerube and leading a company here, she was facing off against various leaders of trade guilds in the city before they could band together as a faction.
Was there any man whose chest did not swell at a tale of a young knight confronting a giant?
A feeling of envy rose up inside Lawrence, but while he might admit as much to Eve, he certainly would not to Kieman.
Kieman's ability made him entirely untrustworthy.
"So there's a sting, is there? From what I heard, the landowners of the north side are so many fish, flopping about on land."
"Yes, they were caught decades ago and are long since dried out. But this year, the lack of the northern campaign has slowed the flow of gold. It seems necessity knows no law."
If the money going to the landowners who lived on the north side was a royalty for the use of the delta marketplace, then it was probably collected as a tax.
In which case, if the traffic of goods and people slowed, it would translate directly to a loss in tax revenue.
But the reason the moneylenders would continue to profit while the debtors would be ruined whether or not they profited or took a loss was because the lenders would always be able to collect the same amount in interest.
"Perhaps only a passerby like me would imagine that making another loan to show compassion would turn out better in the future."
Kieman accepted the five silver trenni without any particular emotion and wrote out a receipt.
For someone who kept ledgers on the comings and goings of who knew how many great sea vessels, that was all five trenni was worth.
Lawrence found himself nostalgic for the exaggerated pleasure of Jakob, the Ruvinheigen guild house master, at having received a donation of trenni.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Indeed, it has, Kraft Lawrence. You've arrived this time by land, I take it?"
Perhaps no sea vessels had arrived in the past few days. "No, by ship—though it was via the river and not the sea."
At these words, Kieman brushed his chin with the feather end of his quill pen as he looked around the room.
It was said that he had thousands of maps' worth of knowledge of the land in his head.
Despite having met Lawrence but twice, he was searching his mind for the trade route by which Lawrence had arrived.
"I'm not on my usual route. There was some trouble in Lenos."
"Ah, I see."
Kieman's smile revealed even less than Holo's inscrutable smile.
Town merchants lived for decades in the same towns in which they were born, and in so doing, they learned all of one another's facial tics and tells, the better to divine one another's true intentions. As a result, town merchants were far craftier than traveling merchants. The fact of his youth made the young master of this branch office all the more imposing.
With effort, Lawrence kept his composure and produced the silver coins that were the customary offering upon visiting a trade house, then spoke.
"I saw rather an interesting show by the spring of gold."
"Heh. An interesting show, indeed, Mr. Lawrence—most impressive. Though it's a rather impenetrable display, even for a traveling merchant."
Not so much as glancing at the five trenni that Lawrence placed there, Kieman leaned across the counter and smiled like a child let in on a secret.
"One never knows where the sting may be laid, even in a seemingly transparent conversation. Even now Chief Jeeta at the main office is out and about, trying to protect our coin purses."
Of House Chief Jeeta, the man who headed the Rowen Trade Guild in Kerube, Lawrence knew nothing but his name, so there was a possibility he had been among the merchants Eve called out to.
Which would mean that despite Eve not living in Kerube and leading a company here, she was facing off against various leaders of trade guilds in the city before they could band together as a faction.
Was there any man whose chest did not swell at a tale of a young knight confronting a giant?
A feeling of envy rose up inside Lawrence, but while he might admit as much to Eve, he certainly would not to Kieman.
Kieman's ability made him entirely untrustworthy.
"So there's a sting, is there? From what I heard, the landowners of the north side are so many fish, flopping about on land."
"Yes, they were caught decades ago and are long since dried out. But this year, the lack of the northern campaign has slowed the flow of gold. It seems necessity knows no law."
If the money going to the landowners who lived on the north side was a royalty for the use of the delta marketplace, then it was probably collected as a tax.
In which case, if the traffic of goods and people slowed, it would translate directly to a loss in tax revenue.
But the reason the moneylenders would continue to profit while the debtors would be ruined whether or not they profited or took a loss was because the lenders would always be able to collect the same amount in interest.
"Perhaps only a passerby like me would imagine that making another loan to show compassion would turn out better in the future."
Kieman accepted the five silver trenni without any particular emotion and wrote out a receipt.
For someone who kept ledgers on the comings and goings of who knew how many great sea vessels, that was all five trenni was worth.
Lawrence found himself nostalgic for the exaggerated pleasure of Jakob, the Ruvinheigen guild house master, at having received a donation of trenni.
| "So they were stubborn."
"Exactly so. They stubbornly paid their interest, insisting they would eventually pay back in full. For our part, if we could only expand the marketplace, it would be trivial to reclaim the interest on the debt. But they know that, and so it only makes them more stubborn. 'We won't let you profit from us any further,' they say."
Kieman shrugged as though at a loss for further words, and Lawrence quite agreed.
He felt sorry for Eve on whom this was being taken out.
Despite being fallen nobility from the kingdom of Winfiel and apparently wielding a fair amount of influence in the Roam River region, this was probably the reason behind her throwing all that away and heading south.
She had done whatever she had to do in order to climb back up and in so doing had sunk deeper and deeper into debt.
"If only they would be more rational. As it is, marriage between the north side and south side is still difficult, to say nothing of moving one's household."
Kieman seemed happy to speak, but it was clear it was not out of any particular favor toward Lawrence.
No doubt he imagined Lawrence to have brought the subject up out of the idle curiosity of a traveling merchant.
But he was also probably thinking that as a representative of the Rowen Trade Guild, he could not have Lawrence going around saying things that contradicted the guild's position.
He had been so informative as a way of explaining to Lawrence that this was the guild line and to warn him that deviating from it would bring consequences.
Not understanding this would be dangerous, but having taken notice of the fact, Lawrence now imagined he could go to any trade guild and enjoy its protection as long as he fell into line.
"I see. So that means the rumor I heard might not necessarily be mistaken."
"Rumor?"
Information gathering was of paramount importance for a trade guild man like Kieman, and Lawrence had to smile at the way this piqued his interest far more than the five trenni that were on the counter a moment ago.
Among traveling merchants, betraying this level of interest always lowered one's status, even for a tasty rumor.
"Yes, it seems the Jean Company on the north side of town is being exploited by the powers that be there."
Of course, this was mere speculation, but the moment Lawrence spoke it, it became truth.
Kieman's expression hardly changed.
In fact, it changed too little.
"Might I ask...where you heard that?"
He could have purposefully played dumb, but Kieman seemed to realize that Lawrence had seen through him.
His eyes turned tense.
Lawrence now had to choose his words carefully.
He tried tossing a big rock into the pond.
"Actually, there was a strange former gentry in Lenos that I..."
"...Made a business deal with," he meant to say, but Lawrence didn't finish the sentence.
While Kieman's face made it seem like he had just heard a funny story, his elbow lightly trapped Lawrence's clothing against the counter.
His facial expression and body language were complete opposites.
"Mr. Lawrence, you seem tired from your journey. Would you care to rest yourself inside?"
The guild house had a dining room as well as beds and fireplaces for overnight stays.
Although that was not, of course, what Kieman meant.
Lawrence's bait seemed to have caught him a bigger fish than he had expected.
"Yes, with pleasure," he said with an accommodating smile.
Lawrence was led into what was surely Kieman's office, where soup that was redolent with fish was brought out.
This was not the sort of talk that called for wine, nor was a sweet childish drink appropriate.
And here in a town where travelers were constantly passing through, a savory, hearty fish soup was often well received.
"So, what is your relationship to the head of the Bolan family?"
It seemed less like a question and more like an interrogation.
Kieman had not touched his own soup.
Lawrence noticed as much, and for a moment, he wondered if something suspicious had been added to the dish.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "So they were stubborn."
"Exactly so. They stubbornly paid their interest, insisting they would eventually pay back in full. For our part, if we could only expand the marketplace, it would be trivial to reclaim the interest on the debt. But they know that, and so it only makes them more stubborn. 'We won't let you profit from us any further,' they say."
Kieman shrugged as though at a loss for further words, and Lawrence quite agreed.
He felt sorry for Eve on whom this was being taken out.
Despite being fallen nobility from the kingdom of Winfiel and apparently wielding a fair amount of influence in the Roam River region, this was probably the reason behind her throwing all that away and heading south.
She had done whatever she had to do in order to climb back up and in so doing had sunk deeper and deeper into debt.
"If only they would be more rational. As it is, marriage between the north side and south side is still difficult, to say nothing of moving one's household."
Kieman seemed happy to speak, but it was clear it was not out of any particular favor toward Lawrence.
No doubt he imagined Lawrence to have brought the subject up out of the idle curiosity of a traveling merchant.
But he was also probably thinking that as a representative of the Rowen Trade Guild, he could not have Lawrence going around saying things that contradicted the guild's position.
He had been so informative as a way of explaining to Lawrence that this was the guild line and to warn him that deviating from it would bring consequences.
Not understanding this would be dangerous, but having taken notice of the fact, Lawrence now imagined he could go to any trade guild and enjoy its protection as long as he fell into line.
"I see. So that means the rumor I heard might not necessarily be mistaken."
"Rumor?"
Information gathering was of paramount importance for a trade guild man like Kieman, and Lawrence had to smile at the way this piqued his interest far more than the five trenni that were on the counter a moment ago.
Among traveling merchants, betraying this level of interest always lowered one's status, even for a tasty rumor.
"Yes, it seems the Jean Company on the north side of town is being exploited by the powers that be there."
Of course, this was mere speculation, but the moment Lawrence spoke it, it became truth.
Kieman's expression hardly changed.
In fact, it changed too little.
"Might I ask...where you heard that?"
He could have purposefully played dumb, but Kieman seemed to realize that Lawrence had seen through him.
His eyes turned tense.
Lawrence now had to choose his words carefully.
He tried tossing a big rock into the pond.
"Actually, there was a strange former gentry in Lenos that I..."
"...Made a business deal with," he meant to say, but Lawrence didn't finish the sentence.
While Kieman's face made it seem like he had just heard a funny story, his elbow lightly trapped Lawrence's clothing against the counter.
His facial expression and body language were complete opposites.
"Mr. Lawrence, you seem tired from your journey. Would you care to rest yourself inside?"
The guild house had a dining room as well as beds and fireplaces for overnight stays.
Although that was not, of course, what Kieman meant.
Lawrence's bait seemed to have caught him a bigger fish than he had expected.
"Yes, with pleasure," he said with an accommodating smile.
Lawrence was led into what was surely Kieman's office, where soup that was redolent with fish was brought out.
This was not the sort of talk that called for wine, nor was a sweet childish drink appropriate.
And here in a town where travelers were constantly passing through, a savory, hearty fish soup was often well received.
"So, what is your relationship to the head of the Bolan family?"
It seemed less like a question and more like an interrogation.
Kieman had not touched his own soup.
Lawrence noticed as much, and for a moment, he wondered if something suspicious had been added to the dish.
| "There was a disturbance. Something about furs, was it?"
The information had either just arrived today, or a contact in Lenos had taken a fast horse and delivered the news the previous day.
Lawrence had nothing to hide and so nodded, clearing his throat once.
"We tried to complete a large business deal together, but she betrayed me at the last minute. I've been so frustrated about the whole affair that I came down the river to vent my spleen at her."
"Surely you're joking." Either he was used to toying with others or unused to being toyed with himself.
A bit of anger crept into Kieman's features, and it somehow made Lawrence think of a younger Holo.
"The part about the business deal is true, and I did come down the river in search of Eve. However, my goal was to ask for her aid."
"In business?"
Lawrence shook his head. "I came across something quite strange in my travels. That happenstance led me to follow a certain silly tale."
"A silly...tale?"
"Yes."
Kieman rolled his eyes up as though he were gazing at the stars in the sky; then he continued. "You refer to the story of the wolf remains."
"Yes. For you to hit upon it so soon, it must be quite a famous tale around here."
"Famous it is, yes, but...Mr. Lawrence, is that truly what you're pursuing?" He seemed less taken aback than he was simply disbelieving.
Perhaps the story was such that he could not imagine why anyone would chase it.
"I can see you're shocked."
"No, not as such, but..." It was a pitiful excuse, as Kieman himself was well aware. "My apologies. There's no point in hiding it. I am indeed shocked."
"My traveling companion was born in the north. It concerns her homeland, and she desperately wishes to find the truth."
Here in a town where north and south collided, cultural and religious clashes were daily occurrences.
The reason Lawrence gave would be, if anything, more convincing in such a place.
"I see...What shocks me, though, is not the fact that you're chasing the story in and of itself."
It was the same reaction as Reynolds at the Jean Company.
But the words he continued with were different.
"Rather, what I find shocking is that while having an acquaintance with Eve Bolan, you would use it to pursue this wild-goose chase of all things."
Lawrence thought for a moment.
He tried to logically pinpoint Kieman's thought process.
"In other words, if I know Eve, I could use her to pursue any number of legitimate opportunities," Lawrence prompted, at which Kieman made a fine face and nodded.
"The reason I brought you back here, Mr. Lawrence, is that her name is extremely important in this town at the moment, and we're in a very delicate position."
"Meaning?"
If Eve's name was important and the town's position delicate, then the reason for that would likewise be so.
Lawrence guessed there was only about a fifty-fifty chance that his question would be answered, but it seemed he had won that bet.
"She's using her status as former nobility to secretly cooperate with the town headmen for profit. She's probably the only one who has a complete picture of all the interested parties. No one knows what the impact might be of a single mistake in their dealings with her. I called you back here and told you of this, Mr. Lawrence, for the same reason I spoke with you earlier."
He was referring to the countertop conversation about the relationship between the north and south.
That had indeed not been out of the kindness of his heart, but instead an explanation of the trade guild's thinking.
"So to hear that you've come here not to do business with Eve, but instead to ask her for clues to your folly of a quest—it not only surprises me, but also comes as an enormous relief."
Kieman spoke with an amiable demeanor, but behind his words was an order: "Do not do business with Eve in this town.
"But I think you are correct to seek her advice regarding the wolf remains. I doubt there's anyone with as much knowledge of the Roam River region as she."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "There was a disturbance. Something about furs, was it?"
The information had either just arrived today, or a contact in Lenos had taken a fast horse and delivered the news the previous day.
Lawrence had nothing to hide and so nodded, clearing his throat once.
"We tried to complete a large business deal together, but she betrayed me at the last minute. I've been so frustrated about the whole affair that I came down the river to vent my spleen at her."
"Surely you're joking." Either he was used to toying with others or unused to being toyed with himself.
A bit of anger crept into Kieman's features, and it somehow made Lawrence think of a younger Holo.
"The part about the business deal is true, and I did come down the river in search of Eve. However, my goal was to ask for her aid."
"In business?"
Lawrence shook his head. "I came across something quite strange in my travels. That happenstance led me to follow a certain silly tale."
"A silly...tale?"
"Yes."
Kieman rolled his eyes up as though he were gazing at the stars in the sky; then he continued. "You refer to the story of the wolf remains."
"Yes. For you to hit upon it so soon, it must be quite a famous tale around here."
"Famous it is, yes, but...Mr. Lawrence, is that truly what you're pursuing?" He seemed less taken aback than he was simply disbelieving.
Perhaps the story was such that he could not imagine why anyone would chase it.
"I can see you're shocked."
"No, not as such, but..." It was a pitiful excuse, as Kieman himself was well aware. "My apologies. There's no point in hiding it. I am indeed shocked."
"My traveling companion was born in the north. It concerns her homeland, and she desperately wishes to find the truth."
Here in a town where north and south collided, cultural and religious clashes were daily occurrences.
The reason Lawrence gave would be, if anything, more convincing in such a place.
"I see...What shocks me, though, is not the fact that you're chasing the story in and of itself."
It was the same reaction as Reynolds at the Jean Company.
But the words he continued with were different.
"Rather, what I find shocking is that while having an acquaintance with Eve Bolan, you would use it to pursue this wild-goose chase of all things."
Lawrence thought for a moment.
He tried to logically pinpoint Kieman's thought process.
"In other words, if I know Eve, I could use her to pursue any number of legitimate opportunities," Lawrence prompted, at which Kieman made a fine face and nodded.
"The reason I brought you back here, Mr. Lawrence, is that her name is extremely important in this town at the moment, and we're in a very delicate position."
"Meaning?"
If Eve's name was important and the town's position delicate, then the reason for that would likewise be so.
Lawrence guessed there was only about a fifty-fifty chance that his question would be answered, but it seemed he had won that bet.
"She's using her status as former nobility to secretly cooperate with the town headmen for profit. She's probably the only one who has a complete picture of all the interested parties. No one knows what the impact might be of a single mistake in their dealings with her. I called you back here and told you of this, Mr. Lawrence, for the same reason I spoke with you earlier."
He was referring to the countertop conversation about the relationship between the north and south.
That had indeed not been out of the kindness of his heart, but instead an explanation of the trade guild's thinking.
"So to hear that you've come here not to do business with Eve, but instead to ask her for clues to your folly of a quest—it not only surprises me, but also comes as an enormous relief."
Kieman spoke with an amiable demeanor, but behind his words was an order: "Do not do business with Eve in this town.
"But I think you are correct to seek her advice regarding the wolf remains. I doubt there's anyone with as much knowledge of the Roam River region as she."
| It also implied that Kieman believed the tale of the wolf bones to be utter folly.
"Still, I must wonder at what history led you to do business with her. Here in this town, there are many who wish to deal with her, but she's utterly unapproachable. I'm sure anyone who can get a favorable response from her will do well..."
Of course, he would wonder at it.
If Eve was so important, the trade guild would have to be scheming to get involved with her.
"I did nothing. She approached me, and only now am I starting to understand why."
"Oh?"
"She ingratiated herself with the headmen, used them, profited, and then was unable to pay them back. Or perhaps she simply didn't want to. It was none other than Eve who was clashing with the south side's coin purse mercenaries."
Kieman was once again surprised, and perhaps unconsciously trying to hide it, he stroked his face and nodded.
"I was truly deceived in my dealings in Lenos. I'd wagered not only the money I'd raised by selling my precious companion into hock, but also my own life. And in the end—well, the knives and hatchets came out, but the reason I think she pulled me into the deal was that by that time, the only person she could deceive and use was a traveling merchant like me."
When he thought about it that way, that was probably also why the slave-trading house so easily lent him the money to buy the furs.
That was just how highly Eve's name was valued.
"I see...That does seem likely. I must admit I'm rather...envious that you could ask for her help even after knives and hatchets had come out."
Impressed at how well chosen those words were, Lawrence nodded and answered. "True colors come out when you squabble like children over a purse full of coin. I don't know that Eve and I are friends exactly, but we do share some embarrassing memories, let's say."
That was not the complete truth, but it was not far from it.
Whether or not Kieman understood, he closed his eyes and nodded, putting his index finger to his temple as if thinking on something.
As someone responsible for a trade guild branch, he would not find himself involved in such brutal dealings.
Lawrence was feeling something of a mix of envy and a vague sense of superiority when Kieman suddenly looked up.
"Understood. Now, then—"
"Yes?" answered Lawrence innocently, and then—
"Eve Bolan or the trade guild—which is your priority?"
This was the very definition of being thrown from one's stride.
For a moment, Lawrence no longer understood who was in front of him.
But that was not because of his own surprise. There was a different reason for his sudden confusion.
Kieman's affect had changed entirely.
Lawrence felt a cold sweat instantly break out on his back.
Up until that moment, he had simply thought that they were making small talk about Eve, but he was suddenly wondering if he had been seriously mistaken.
He thought he would be able to gather some information and call it a day.
That was not the case.
"Well...the guild, of course," Lawrence managed to answer, and Kieman looked away without as much as nodding.
His brusque manner was just as it had been when Lawrence approached the counter and put the five trenni down.
Lawrence had been played.
And so unbelievably easily, too.
"In that case, I'm expecting you to behave in a manner befitting a member of this guild. Human connections are assets—they are capital. And large business requires large capital," said Kieman with a brilliant smile.
His tone was pleasant, but it had a forceful finality to it.
Lawrence should not have let his guard down.
He had completely misjudged Eve's importance, as well.
As a result, he had been cornered by Kieman into promising to put the trade guild first.
It made Lawrence feel incredibly uncomfortable, as if he had just been forced to sign a contract without reading it—and this feeling was no illusion.
"Eve was only just in a difficult place without anywhere to turn, you see," said Kieman casually, as though he were making small talk.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It also implied that Kieman believed the tale of the wolf bones to be utter folly.
"Still, I must wonder at what history led you to do business with her. Here in this town, there are many who wish to deal with her, but she's utterly unapproachable. I'm sure anyone who can get a favorable response from her will do well..."
Of course, he would wonder at it.
If Eve was so important, the trade guild would have to be scheming to get involved with her.
"I did nothing. She approached me, and only now am I starting to understand why."
"Oh?"
"She ingratiated herself with the headmen, used them, profited, and then was unable to pay them back. Or perhaps she simply didn't want to. It was none other than Eve who was clashing with the south side's coin purse mercenaries."
Kieman was once again surprised, and perhaps unconsciously trying to hide it, he stroked his face and nodded.
"I was truly deceived in my dealings in Lenos. I'd wagered not only the money I'd raised by selling my precious companion into hock, but also my own life. And in the end—well, the knives and hatchets came out, but the reason I think she pulled me into the deal was that by that time, the only person she could deceive and use was a traveling merchant like me."
When he thought about it that way, that was probably also why the slave-trading house so easily lent him the money to buy the furs.
That was just how highly Eve's name was valued.
"I see...That does seem likely. I must admit I'm rather...envious that you could ask for her help even after knives and hatchets had come out."
Impressed at how well chosen those words were, Lawrence nodded and answered. "True colors come out when you squabble like children over a purse full of coin. I don't know that Eve and I are friends exactly, but we do share some embarrassing memories, let's say."
That was not the complete truth, but it was not far from it.
Whether or not Kieman understood, he closed his eyes and nodded, putting his index finger to his temple as if thinking on something.
As someone responsible for a trade guild branch, he would not find himself involved in such brutal dealings.
Lawrence was feeling something of a mix of envy and a vague sense of superiority when Kieman suddenly looked up.
"Understood. Now, then—"
"Yes?" answered Lawrence innocently, and then—
"Eve Bolan or the trade guild—which is your priority?"
This was the very definition of being thrown from one's stride.
For a moment, Lawrence no longer understood who was in front of him.
But that was not because of his own surprise. There was a different reason for his sudden confusion.
Kieman's affect had changed entirely.
Lawrence felt a cold sweat instantly break out on his back.
Up until that moment, he had simply thought that they were making small talk about Eve, but he was suddenly wondering if he had been seriously mistaken.
He thought he would be able to gather some information and call it a day.
That was not the case.
"Well...the guild, of course," Lawrence managed to answer, and Kieman looked away without as much as nodding.
His brusque manner was just as it had been when Lawrence approached the counter and put the five trenni down.
Lawrence had been played.
And so unbelievably easily, too.
"In that case, I'm expecting you to behave in a manner befitting a member of this guild. Human connections are assets—they are capital. And large business requires large capital," said Kieman with a brilliant smile.
His tone was pleasant, but it had a forceful finality to it.
Lawrence should not have let his guard down.
He had completely misjudged Eve's importance, as well.
As a result, he had been cornered by Kieman into promising to put the trade guild first.
It made Lawrence feel incredibly uncomfortable, as if he had just been forced to sign a contract without reading it—and this feeling was no illusion.
"Eve was only just in a difficult place without anywhere to turn, you see," said Kieman casually, as though he were making small talk.
| He had to expect something humiliating or at least partially so; otherwise there was no telling what they would use him for, thought Lawrence. He was about to open his mouth to speak, when—
"Mr. Kieman! Mr. Kieman!" came a voice from outside the room, accompanied by hurried footsteps.
Next there was an urgent knock at the door, and Kieman's name was again called out.
Something had happened.
But Kieman only sipped his now-cool soup, entirely unruffled.
"But I've taken too much of your time. It seems I have other business to attend to, so if you'll excuse me."
He stood and walked toward the door.
A dazed Lawrence watched him leave, having completely lost the opportunity to speak further, when Kieman suddenly stopped and looked back. "Ah, yes—"
His manner was that of an actor required to perform constantly for a very discerning audience.
"—If you speak of this to anyone else..."
Kieman opened the door and listened to the whisper of the frantic-looking guild employee, giving a short nod without changing his expression.
Though they might lack wolf ears or tails, there are people in the world every bit the terrifying equal of the gods and spirits.
Lawrence felt it.
"...You'll surely regret it," Kieman finished, regarding Lawrence with a pleasant merchant's smile.
The guild house was in an uproar, like unto a kicked hornet's nest.
Merchants were coming through the front door, approaching the first-floor counter, leaving letters, and heading back out.
At that moment, if one wanted to know what was happening in Kerube, there was probably no better place to be than inside a trade house.
But as Lawrence watched Kieman work, he wasn't thinking about the current crisis at all.
He was still preoccupied with the conversation he had just had.
While Lawrence's calm face made it seem like he was attempting to discern what was happening in the town just as all the other merchants were, inside he was full of dread.
Kieman was trying to accomplish something using Lawrence's connection to Eve. Lawrence had thought to use Eve as bait to draw information out of Kieman, but he had wound up getting snared himself.
Meanwhile, he felt as though the mood in the clamorous first floor of the trade house had changed.
Lawrence looked up and saw a familiar face peering in at him through the open front door.
It was Holo, whom he had told to meet with him back at the inn when her work was done.
"May I help you?" asked a hairy merchant who was standing next to the door, probably thinking she was a nun on pilgrimage who had lost track of her companion.
Holo seemed to consider how to answer for a moment but soon noticed Lawrence standing up from his chair.
"Excuse me, she's an acquaintance of mine."
There were many merchants who served the food and supply lines of knight companies and mercenaries, and if a group on pilgrimage were sufficiently well funded, it was not unheard of for them to have merchants that served in similar capacities.
Lawrence spoke up without any particular urgency, so the other merchants in the room simply assumed that was what he was.
Their slightly envious gazes were probably because of his being connected to such a profitable-looking customer.
The only exception was Kieman.
Lawrence felt the man's gaze on his back as he left with Holo.
Though things outside seemed unchanged, looking closer, Lawrence noticed merchants and messengers carrying letters hurriedly to and from the trade house branches, red faced and rushed.
"What happened?" Lawrence asked as they walked slowly through the lively marketplace.
"With the town suddenly in such an uproar, I can hardly leave you on your own."
"What do you mean?" he was about to reply, but as someone thoroughly involved in things, he found he could not object.
And there was no denying that they were getting involved.
"So, did you find anything out?" Lawrence asked, feigning composure.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He had to expect something humiliating or at least partially so; otherwise there was no telling what they would use him for, thought Lawrence. He was about to open his mouth to speak, when—
"Mr. Kieman! Mr. Kieman!" came a voice from outside the room, accompanied by hurried footsteps.
Next there was an urgent knock at the door, and Kieman's name was again called out.
Something had happened.
But Kieman only sipped his now-cool soup, entirely unruffled.
"But I've taken too much of your time. It seems I have other business to attend to, so if you'll excuse me."
He stood and walked toward the door.
A dazed Lawrence watched him leave, having completely lost the opportunity to speak further, when Kieman suddenly stopped and looked back. "Ah, yes—"
His manner was that of an actor required to perform constantly for a very discerning audience.
"—If you speak of this to anyone else..."
Kieman opened the door and listened to the whisper of the frantic-looking guild employee, giving a short nod without changing his expression.
Though they might lack wolf ears or tails, there are people in the world every bit the terrifying equal of the gods and spirits.
Lawrence felt it.
"...You'll surely regret it," Kieman finished, regarding Lawrence with a pleasant merchant's smile.
The guild house was in an uproar, like unto a kicked hornet's nest.
Merchants were coming through the front door, approaching the first-floor counter, leaving letters, and heading back out.
At that moment, if one wanted to know what was happening in Kerube, there was probably no better place to be than inside a trade house.
But as Lawrence watched Kieman work, he wasn't thinking about the current crisis at all.
He was still preoccupied with the conversation he had just had.
While Lawrence's calm face made it seem like he was attempting to discern what was happening in the town just as all the other merchants were, inside he was full of dread.
Kieman was trying to accomplish something using Lawrence's connection to Eve. Lawrence had thought to use Eve as bait to draw information out of Kieman, but he had wound up getting snared himself.
Meanwhile, he felt as though the mood in the clamorous first floor of the trade house had changed.
Lawrence looked up and saw a familiar face peering in at him through the open front door.
It was Holo, whom he had told to meet with him back at the inn when her work was done.
"May I help you?" asked a hairy merchant who was standing next to the door, probably thinking she was a nun on pilgrimage who had lost track of her companion.
Holo seemed to consider how to answer for a moment but soon noticed Lawrence standing up from his chair.
"Excuse me, she's an acquaintance of mine."
There were many merchants who served the food and supply lines of knight companies and mercenaries, and if a group on pilgrimage were sufficiently well funded, it was not unheard of for them to have merchants that served in similar capacities.
Lawrence spoke up without any particular urgency, so the other merchants in the room simply assumed that was what he was.
Their slightly envious gazes were probably because of his being connected to such a profitable-looking customer.
The only exception was Kieman.
Lawrence felt the man's gaze on his back as he left with Holo.
Though things outside seemed unchanged, looking closer, Lawrence noticed merchants and messengers carrying letters hurriedly to and from the trade house branches, red faced and rushed.
"What happened?" Lawrence asked as they walked slowly through the lively marketplace.
"With the town suddenly in such an uproar, I can hardly leave you on your own."
"What do you mean?" he was about to reply, but as someone thoroughly involved in things, he found he could not object.
And there was no denying that they were getting involved.
"So, did you find anything out?" Lawrence asked, feigning composure.
| Ignoring her baiting words, Lawrence replied only to the substantive part of her statement. "They sent you off? Out of the church?"
"Aye. I wondered if some great demon had appeared in the town to threaten the church..."
Lawrence had to laugh at the seriousness with which this statement came. "That would've been a calamity, indeed...but I do wonder what it was that involves the Church."
"Once I was cast out of the church, I thought I would try to track the disturbance, but there was such a crowd that there was naught for it—not to mention the many men with swords and spears."
"Soldiers?"
"Aye. All I could tell was that they were carrying something precious from the river, and it seemed they went into the church. It was a terrific uproar. Indeed, and that lad who wanted to make me his bride—when was it again?—he was there."
"Back in Kumersun." Lawrence made a pained face, not wanting to be reminded of such things. Holo chuckled.
But if something similar to that happened now, Lawrence doubted it would be as much of a crisis.
For one thing, even if it did, he was closer to Holo now than he had been back then.
He could tell that Holo was bringing it up partially out of a sense of nostalgia.
"But what would happen to raise such a fuss?" wondered Lawrence.
"You may ask, but I have no answer. Even listening carefully to the crowds, I couldn't make sense of it at all. I decided 'twould be better to return to you for the nonce."
"Huh," Lawrence murmured, trying to piece together what he had heard earlier at the trade house. "According to what they were saying when I arrived, it seems a ship from the north side was being towed by a ship from a company on the south side, but I assumed it was just talk of internal politics."
Holo seemed not to understand and regarded Lawrence the way she did when she thought she was being teased.
"Explain it so I can understand," her expression said.
"The north and south sides of this town are in conflict, right? But they can't draw lines in the ocean. When the fish head north, they fish in the north, and when the fish are south, they go south. Whenever there's fishing in rivers, lakes, or oceans, issues of territory are always a source of strife. That's what I thought they were talking about. You'd hardly think that a trading company in the south would be so taken by a north-side fishing vessel out on the ocean that they'd buy it up on the spot, would you?"
Holo slowly nodded, as if vaguely understanding this talk of territory.
"But for them to tow a north-side ship in and bring ashore something that required armed escort, and for that to be the work of the Church instead of a trading company, it makes me wonder if they really caught a mermaid or something."
"A mermaid?" Holo asked, her head tilted curiously.
Surprisingly, she seemed not to know what one was.
"They're a kind of legendary creature. The sea immediately next to us is known as the Winfiel Strait, but around its northern mouth is a reef where there were constant shipwrecks. And there's an old legend about them, that women with voices of unearthly beauty sing enchanted songs from that reef, causing sailors to lose their way and wreck their ships upon the rocks. And those sailors who wonder what beautiful women are doing on the wave-pounded reefs soon have their questions answered—the mermaids are human from the waist up, but below that, they have the tails of fish."
Holo listened to the story, seeming honestly impressed.
It was not as if she were unfamiliar with the sea, but somehow she seemed never to have heard of mermaids.
If Holo had not heard of them, perhaps they really were nothing but a superstition, thought Lawrence.
Holo nodded and spoke. "Human males surely are easy to fool."
It was true that old stories and legends were full of men being tricked by all sorts of spirits.
But Lawrence had sparred with Holo many times before and had a few choice words to counterattack with.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Ignoring her baiting words, Lawrence replied only to the substantive part of her statement. "They sent you off? Out of the church?"
"Aye. I wondered if some great demon had appeared in the town to threaten the church..."
Lawrence had to laugh at the seriousness with which this statement came. "That would've been a calamity, indeed...but I do wonder what it was that involves the Church."
"Once I was cast out of the church, I thought I would try to track the disturbance, but there was such a crowd that there was naught for it—not to mention the many men with swords and spears."
"Soldiers?"
"Aye. All I could tell was that they were carrying something precious from the river, and it seemed they went into the church. It was a terrific uproar. Indeed, and that lad who wanted to make me his bride—when was it again?—he was there."
"Back in Kumersun." Lawrence made a pained face, not wanting to be reminded of such things. Holo chuckled.
But if something similar to that happened now, Lawrence doubted it would be as much of a crisis.
For one thing, even if it did, he was closer to Holo now than he had been back then.
He could tell that Holo was bringing it up partially out of a sense of nostalgia.
"But what would happen to raise such a fuss?" wondered Lawrence.
"You may ask, but I have no answer. Even listening carefully to the crowds, I couldn't make sense of it at all. I decided 'twould be better to return to you for the nonce."
"Huh," Lawrence murmured, trying to piece together what he had heard earlier at the trade house. "According to what they were saying when I arrived, it seems a ship from the north side was being towed by a ship from a company on the south side, but I assumed it was just talk of internal politics."
Holo seemed not to understand and regarded Lawrence the way she did when she thought she was being teased.
"Explain it so I can understand," her expression said.
"The north and south sides of this town are in conflict, right? But they can't draw lines in the ocean. When the fish head north, they fish in the north, and when the fish are south, they go south. Whenever there's fishing in rivers, lakes, or oceans, issues of territory are always a source of strife. That's what I thought they were talking about. You'd hardly think that a trading company in the south would be so taken by a north-side fishing vessel out on the ocean that they'd buy it up on the spot, would you?"
Holo slowly nodded, as if vaguely understanding this talk of territory.
"But for them to tow a north-side ship in and bring ashore something that required armed escort, and for that to be the work of the Church instead of a trading company, it makes me wonder if they really caught a mermaid or something."
"A mermaid?" Holo asked, her head tilted curiously.
Surprisingly, she seemed not to know what one was.
"They're a kind of legendary creature. The sea immediately next to us is known as the Winfiel Strait, but around its northern mouth is a reef where there were constant shipwrecks. And there's an old legend about them, that women with voices of unearthly beauty sing enchanted songs from that reef, causing sailors to lose their way and wreck their ships upon the rocks. And those sailors who wonder what beautiful women are doing on the wave-pounded reefs soon have their questions answered—the mermaids are human from the waist up, but below that, they have the tails of fish."
Holo listened to the story, seeming honestly impressed.
It was not as if she were unfamiliar with the sea, but somehow she seemed never to have heard of mermaids.
If Holo had not heard of them, perhaps they really were nothing but a superstition, thought Lawrence.
Holo nodded and spoke. "Human males surely are easy to fool."
It was true that old stories and legends were full of men being tricked by all sorts of spirits.
But Lawrence had sparred with Holo many times before and had a few choice words to counterattack with.
| Lawrence was well aware that Holo was disposed to prefer a mild sunbeam to a violent gambling den.
After flicking her ears for a few moments beneath her hood, Holo spoke in a mischievous tone. "Aye, well, we enjoy our wine as well. Still," she continued, smiling, "have you sworn to the God of the Church not to fall into their trap and not to fall into this one?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking if you have anything to hide."
"Gah—" Lawrence could not help himself from muttering, as Holo had once again struck at his inability to hide anything from her.
He had wanted to organize his thoughts more thoroughly before talking to Holo, but he told her everything about his exchange with Kieman.
"You fool."
Lawrence wanted to protest that Kieman barely seemed human, but he knew that was no excuse.
Holo's tone as she continued seemed unconcerned. "If it was such an unreasonable demand, why didn't you simply refuse?"
When she said it like that, it sounded almost possible, which was a terrifying illusion.
But Lawrence soon regained his composure and scratched his head.
Merchants preferred to have contracts on paper, but before committing a promise to writing, they would use a verbal contract.
And its meaning was weighty indeed.
"Dozens, hundreds of merchants are members of the Rowen Trade Guild, including some who earn thousands of lumione in a year. It is nothing less than an entity that could squash me without a second thought. No matter what favor they might ask of me, I cannot refuse it. Absurd, you might think—but that is part of why promises are always kept."
Even in the Church city of Ruvinheigen, when Lawrence was facing utter ruin and the possibility of life on a slave ship—even then he did not consider betraying the guild.
Trading companies were thus powerful allies and fearsome enemies, knights who wielded the pen and the coin.
"Hmph. Well, I suppose 'tis true that a youngster can hardly disobey a veteran."
"You see?"
"Aye. But still, those in such position often have too much to lose and cannot risk bold moves. You wish to use your acquaintance with that vixen to accomplish something, but with others involved, perhaps they fear the trouble it might cause and thus threaten you."
If the problem was that one tended to be controlled by various influences and implications, then someone not in that position would have been able to make a more objective judgment.
"And for those trying to hold the group together, keeping a weather eye on your underlings so they don't make foolish mistakes is common sense. I doubt you've anything to worry about."
Holo actually had held entire mountains and villages together, and so her words had a certain persuasiveness to them.
She was not some food- and wine-obsessed town lass who cried at any mention of her homeland.
"Anyway, whatever you decide, all I need do is act according to my own priorities," said Holo, waving her hand dismissively and speeding up her walk.
Anger at her selfishness or callousness was the wrong answer.
And yet laughing it off as a joke was also the wrong answer.
Lawrence called out to her receding form. "Even if I were at the top of that list, I assume you wouldn't admit it, would you?"
Holo stopped and looked back. "Aye. I cannot have you getting seduced."
She flashed her fangs in a grin, and for a moment, a shock ran through him as he worried that she might be revealed.
But when he felt that chill down his spine, it was usually not because of his surroundings turning colder—rather it was his own temperature rising.
Lawrence gave a long-suffering sigh, drawing alongside Holo, who had slowed her walk.
He took her hand and spoke. "Are we finished here? Let's meet back up with Col."
Holo's face as she looked at him was unsurprisingly angry.
"That's my line, you dunce!"
Fortunately, the return crossing from the delta to the north side cost only a single fare.
When something happened in the town, the disturbance would spread rapidly.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence was well aware that Holo was disposed to prefer a mild sunbeam to a violent gambling den.
After flicking her ears for a few moments beneath her hood, Holo spoke in a mischievous tone. "Aye, well, we enjoy our wine as well. Still," she continued, smiling, "have you sworn to the God of the Church not to fall into their trap and not to fall into this one?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking if you have anything to hide."
"Gah—" Lawrence could not help himself from muttering, as Holo had once again struck at his inability to hide anything from her.
He had wanted to organize his thoughts more thoroughly before talking to Holo, but he told her everything about his exchange with Kieman.
"You fool."
Lawrence wanted to protest that Kieman barely seemed human, but he knew that was no excuse.
Holo's tone as she continued seemed unconcerned. "If it was such an unreasonable demand, why didn't you simply refuse?"
When she said it like that, it sounded almost possible, which was a terrifying illusion.
But Lawrence soon regained his composure and scratched his head.
Merchants preferred to have contracts on paper, but before committing a promise to writing, they would use a verbal contract.
And its meaning was weighty indeed.
"Dozens, hundreds of merchants are members of the Rowen Trade Guild, including some who earn thousands of lumione in a year. It is nothing less than an entity that could squash me without a second thought. No matter what favor they might ask of me, I cannot refuse it. Absurd, you might think—but that is part of why promises are always kept."
Even in the Church city of Ruvinheigen, when Lawrence was facing utter ruin and the possibility of life on a slave ship—even then he did not consider betraying the guild.
Trading companies were thus powerful allies and fearsome enemies, knights who wielded the pen and the coin.
"Hmph. Well, I suppose 'tis true that a youngster can hardly disobey a veteran."
"You see?"
"Aye. But still, those in such position often have too much to lose and cannot risk bold moves. You wish to use your acquaintance with that vixen to accomplish something, but with others involved, perhaps they fear the trouble it might cause and thus threaten you."
If the problem was that one tended to be controlled by various influences and implications, then someone not in that position would have been able to make a more objective judgment.
"And for those trying to hold the group together, keeping a weather eye on your underlings so they don't make foolish mistakes is common sense. I doubt you've anything to worry about."
Holo actually had held entire mountains and villages together, and so her words had a certain persuasiveness to them.
She was not some food- and wine-obsessed town lass who cried at any mention of her homeland.
"Anyway, whatever you decide, all I need do is act according to my own priorities," said Holo, waving her hand dismissively and speeding up her walk.
Anger at her selfishness or callousness was the wrong answer.
And yet laughing it off as a joke was also the wrong answer.
Lawrence called out to her receding form. "Even if I were at the top of that list, I assume you wouldn't admit it, would you?"
Holo stopped and looked back. "Aye. I cannot have you getting seduced."
She flashed her fangs in a grin, and for a moment, a shock ran through him as he worried that she might be revealed.
But when he felt that chill down his spine, it was usually not because of his surroundings turning colder—rather it was his own temperature rising.
Lawrence gave a long-suffering sigh, drawing alongside Holo, who had slowed her walk.
He took her hand and spoke. "Are we finished here? Let's meet back up with Col."
Holo's face as she looked at him was unsurprisingly angry.
"That's my line, you dunce!"
Fortunately, the return crossing from the delta to the north side cost only a single fare.
When something happened in the town, the disturbance would spread rapidly.
| Nearly everyone wanted to get from the north side to the delta and from the delta to the south side, so ferries going the opposite direction were completely empty.
It would have been ridiculous not to haggle the ferryman's fare down, and with the leftover coin, Lawrence bought Holo more roasted shellfish.
Lawrence barely had time to say, "You mustn't tell Col," before Holo had polished them off and was looking very satisfied indeed.
If they were going to pursue what was happening in the town, it might have seemed like the best course of action would be either to remain on the delta or cross to the south side, but listening to what Holo said made Lawrence think otherwise.
As a precaution, he had not told Kieman where they were staying.
One never knew.
If Col was taken hostage, there was no telling what sort of unreasonable demands they might make—to say nothing of Holo.
Upon returning to the inn, they were greeted by an exhausted Col, who was sprawled facedown on the table.
"Ah, welcome back..." His face twitched strangely.
For a moment, Lawrence wondered what had happened, but then he saw the cheap pickled herring and battered, blackened copper coins on the table and could more or less guess.
He must have been very popular when posing as a beggar boy to listen to town gossip.
"...I'm tired."
"That much is obvious, but did you hear anything to match the effort?"
Holo drew close to the tired Col and with both hands rubbed the dirt from the corners of his eyes.
When Lawrence had been just starting out as a merchant, he too had slept with a face tired from too many forced smiles, the muscles twitching and moving of their own accord.
Of course, back then he had been forced to massage his own face.
"Er...yes. It was just as you said, Mr. Lawrence. The Jean Company should be profiting, but I heard they don't eat proper food, and they hardly ever give to charity."
"Which means that they might even be taking those chicken eggs to market and selling them."
As she rubbed Col's face, Holo got a faraway look in her eye. "Then mayhap that feast was meant to court us."
"Quite likely. So Reynolds may well be serious about the wolf remains."
Or it was his last wish.
According to Kieman, Eve would only secretly negotiate with someone who could make the greatest profit in that particular moment.
As long as that was her method, no one would want to approach her without a very clear plan.
Contacting her with the claim that you would do anything as long as it expanded your business was a dangerous bet because there was no way of knowing whom she was involved with and to what end.
Which meant it was possible that Reynolds did indeed want Eve's cooperation with the wolf remains.
It fit that Reynolds knew where the remains were but had no way of negotiating with the owner and wanted to ask Eve to act as a middleman.
It was all too likely that some well-known nobleman or clergyman had the remains.
But they would never negotiate with some unknown merchant.
Who they would negotiate with was a merchant prince wealthy enough to have purchased a title—or true fellow nobility.
"Even from what I heard, reinforcement seemed possible."
"Meaning?"
"The church in the town we were just in, I hear, has been very bold in spreading the teachings of their God and has been inspiring their flock all along the river. That verve has reached all the way to the northern mountains, the heartland of paganism, and there gives courage to the knights fighting with pagans on the front line."
Col sat up with a start and looked straight at Holo.
In the worst case, her statement could mean that the Church's hand had fallen upon his town.
"But the northern pagans' resistance has been fierce, and since for the nonce the missionary efforts are making little progress, the Church men were warning me not to be swayed from the true path, despite the mistaken beliefs of my kith and kin."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Nearly everyone wanted to get from the north side to the delta and from the delta to the south side, so ferries going the opposite direction were completely empty.
It would have been ridiculous not to haggle the ferryman's fare down, and with the leftover coin, Lawrence bought Holo more roasted shellfish.
Lawrence barely had time to say, "You mustn't tell Col," before Holo had polished them off and was looking very satisfied indeed.
If they were going to pursue what was happening in the town, it might have seemed like the best course of action would be either to remain on the delta or cross to the south side, but listening to what Holo said made Lawrence think otherwise.
As a precaution, he had not told Kieman where they were staying.
One never knew.
If Col was taken hostage, there was no telling what sort of unreasonable demands they might make—to say nothing of Holo.
Upon returning to the inn, they were greeted by an exhausted Col, who was sprawled facedown on the table.
"Ah, welcome back..." His face twitched strangely.
For a moment, Lawrence wondered what had happened, but then he saw the cheap pickled herring and battered, blackened copper coins on the table and could more or less guess.
He must have been very popular when posing as a beggar boy to listen to town gossip.
"...I'm tired."
"That much is obvious, but did you hear anything to match the effort?"
Holo drew close to the tired Col and with both hands rubbed the dirt from the corners of his eyes.
When Lawrence had been just starting out as a merchant, he too had slept with a face tired from too many forced smiles, the muscles twitching and moving of their own accord.
Of course, back then he had been forced to massage his own face.
"Er...yes. It was just as you said, Mr. Lawrence. The Jean Company should be profiting, but I heard they don't eat proper food, and they hardly ever give to charity."
"Which means that they might even be taking those chicken eggs to market and selling them."
As she rubbed Col's face, Holo got a faraway look in her eye. "Then mayhap that feast was meant to court us."
"Quite likely. So Reynolds may well be serious about the wolf remains."
Or it was his last wish.
According to Kieman, Eve would only secretly negotiate with someone who could make the greatest profit in that particular moment.
As long as that was her method, no one would want to approach her without a very clear plan.
Contacting her with the claim that you would do anything as long as it expanded your business was a dangerous bet because there was no way of knowing whom she was involved with and to what end.
Which meant it was possible that Reynolds did indeed want Eve's cooperation with the wolf remains.
It fit that Reynolds knew where the remains were but had no way of negotiating with the owner and wanted to ask Eve to act as a middleman.
It was all too likely that some well-known nobleman or clergyman had the remains.
But they would never negotiate with some unknown merchant.
Who they would negotiate with was a merchant prince wealthy enough to have purchased a title—or true fellow nobility.
"Even from what I heard, reinforcement seemed possible."
"Meaning?"
"The church in the town we were just in, I hear, has been very bold in spreading the teachings of their God and has been inspiring their flock all along the river. That verve has reached all the way to the northern mountains, the heartland of paganism, and there gives courage to the knights fighting with pagans on the front line."
Col sat up with a start and looked straight at Holo.
In the worst case, her statement could mean that the Church's hand had fallen upon his town.
"But the northern pagans' resistance has been fierce, and since for the nonce the missionary efforts are making little progress, the Church men were warning me not to be swayed from the true path, despite the mistaken beliefs of my kith and kin."
| It was clear Holo had heard quite a bit of the Church's specialty—stories that were not precisely lies but left a mistaken impression upon the listener.
Holo was not so patient as to be able to happily listen to such foolishness.
As long as she was not in a foul mood, she would not tease someone about his or her town for fun.
"The Church can never appear weak in its dealings with pagans. For them to state something so close to the truth must mean their true situation is desperate. If so, considering the situation with the bishopric in Lenos, talk of drastic measures to reverse their position—such as getting the wolf remains into their hands—cannot be easily dismissed as absurd."
"Too true. When I mentioned the bones, the fools would speak of the need to take them as quickly as possible, to show the pagans the error of their ways," spat Holo, her tail swishing violently enough to cause her robe to flip up as she sat forcefully down on the bed.
Lawrence had no words for Holo and, letting a slight sigh escape, tried to put his thoughts in order.
"There's no doubt that the Jean Company is looking for the remains. And they're closing in on the location. Or perhaps it's better to say that they're getting closer to handing them over to the Church."
"And should we just go then to this whatever-'tis-called company?"
Holo's upturned glance was frightening as ever.
Lawrence shook his head at her bare-fanged statement. "Imagine what would happen if we tried to solve everything with brute force. Your true nature would absolutely come out, and the Church's rage would be roused. A pagan god in the flesh—'all ye faithful servants of God, rise and take swords in hand,' they would say."
Holo was not such a child as to say she would merely tear all who opposed them to shreds.
She understood the difference of magnitude, and more importantly, she could not fail to know that such an act would give the deadlocked Church renewed will and resolve.
"If possible, our solution should be money. In the worst case, a secret theft would also work."
"Such childish gambits—" began Holo, but stopped herself at Lawrence's quiet gaze.
"Enough money can easily kill a person. With money, your homeland could be stripped bare. It is not 'childish.'"
Lawrence was a merchant, and merchants risked their lives to make money.
He knew well how difficult that was and also the power it held.
Holo grunted something that might or might not have been agreement, then looked away.
"Still, now that we've recognized the situation, the question becomes what we can do about it, and the answer may well be 'not very much.'"
"...Why should that be? If this company is seeking the aid of that vixen, then we have two choices."
"Two?"
Anticipating a display of the celebrated cleverness of a wisewolf, Lawrence turned to look at Holo, who patted Col on the head.
"We can use this fellow's wits to threaten them."
She was referring to the mystery of the copper coin that the Jean Company handled.
"I see," murmured Lawrence. "And the other?"
At those words, a mysterious smile appeared on Holo's face, and she moved smoothly toward Lawrence.
He suddenly had a bad feeling about this, not for any particular reason, but simply because of his experiences with Holo thus far.
"We do what that company wants and play matchmaker twixt them and the vixen. We can hear the location of the wolf remains once she's been asked where they are."
There was a head of height difference between Lawrence and Holo.
When she stood directly in front of him, Holo had to look distinctly up, but it was Lawrence who felt overpowered.
"There may be some possibility of that with the Jean Company, but there's still a clear flaw there."
"Oh, aye?"
Did she have some secret plan? Lawrence wondered, but his common sense refuted it.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was clear Holo had heard quite a bit of the Church's specialty—stories that were not precisely lies but left a mistaken impression upon the listener.
Holo was not so patient as to be able to happily listen to such foolishness.
As long as she was not in a foul mood, she would not tease someone about his or her town for fun.
"The Church can never appear weak in its dealings with pagans. For them to state something so close to the truth must mean their true situation is desperate. If so, considering the situation with the bishopric in Lenos, talk of drastic measures to reverse their position—such as getting the wolf remains into their hands—cannot be easily dismissed as absurd."
"Too true. When I mentioned the bones, the fools would speak of the need to take them as quickly as possible, to show the pagans the error of their ways," spat Holo, her tail swishing violently enough to cause her robe to flip up as she sat forcefully down on the bed.
Lawrence had no words for Holo and, letting a slight sigh escape, tried to put his thoughts in order.
"There's no doubt that the Jean Company is looking for the remains. And they're closing in on the location. Or perhaps it's better to say that they're getting closer to handing them over to the Church."
"And should we just go then to this whatever-'tis-called company?"
Holo's upturned glance was frightening as ever.
Lawrence shook his head at her bare-fanged statement. "Imagine what would happen if we tried to solve everything with brute force. Your true nature would absolutely come out, and the Church's rage would be roused. A pagan god in the flesh—'all ye faithful servants of God, rise and take swords in hand,' they would say."
Holo was not such a child as to say she would merely tear all who opposed them to shreds.
She understood the difference of magnitude, and more importantly, she could not fail to know that such an act would give the deadlocked Church renewed will and resolve.
"If possible, our solution should be money. In the worst case, a secret theft would also work."
"Such childish gambits—" began Holo, but stopped herself at Lawrence's quiet gaze.
"Enough money can easily kill a person. With money, your homeland could be stripped bare. It is not 'childish.'"
Lawrence was a merchant, and merchants risked their lives to make money.
He knew well how difficult that was and also the power it held.
Holo grunted something that might or might not have been agreement, then looked away.
"Still, now that we've recognized the situation, the question becomes what we can do about it, and the answer may well be 'not very much.'"
"...Why should that be? If this company is seeking the aid of that vixen, then we have two choices."
"Two?"
Anticipating a display of the celebrated cleverness of a wisewolf, Lawrence turned to look at Holo, who patted Col on the head.
"We can use this fellow's wits to threaten them."
She was referring to the mystery of the copper coin that the Jean Company handled.
"I see," murmured Lawrence. "And the other?"
At those words, a mysterious smile appeared on Holo's face, and she moved smoothly toward Lawrence.
He suddenly had a bad feeling about this, not for any particular reason, but simply because of his experiences with Holo thus far.
"We do what that company wants and play matchmaker twixt them and the vixen. We can hear the location of the wolf remains once she's been asked where they are."
There was a head of height difference between Lawrence and Holo.
When she stood directly in front of him, Holo had to look distinctly up, but it was Lawrence who felt overpowered.
"There may be some possibility of that with the Jean Company, but there's still a clear flaw there."
"Oh, aye?"
Did she have some secret plan? Lawrence wondered, but his common sense refuted it.
| Her tail was wagging her irritation for just that reason.
"We need but seduce her. You're trying to fool this wisewolf, so it should be no trouble at all, nay?"
Love affairs trumped proper business deals.
This wolf already knew full well things that Lawrence had learned in his many years as a merchant.
But Lawrence didn't understand why she was speaking about it with such irritation.
Setting aside whether or not it was a real possibility, as a potential means to an end it certainly existed.
So long as they were only discussing it, there was no need for such ill temper.
Lawrence flinched a bit at Holo's smile, and Holo looked suddenly behind her.
"Col, my lad, close your eyes and cover your ears."
"Wha—?"
He hesitated for but a moment.
By this time well trained by Holo, Col obeyed her with frightening speed.
Holo gave a satisfied sigh and turned back to Lawrence. "Did you think I had not noticed?"
Her smile disappeared, and she grabbed Lawrence's ear and pulled him close.
"Wh-what are you—"
"Even you can tell what someone has eaten by what remains on their mouth. But I can tell by scent alone. Even the slightest morsel if I get that close."
Lawrence soon realized what Holo was referring to by "that close."
He had listened to Eve by the spring of gold, then had his pathetic worries soothed on the second floor of the tavern.
But why was Holo angry about that now of all times? Lawrence wondered, then realized something strange—something immediately following his conversation with Eve, and now the possibility of seducing her.
And this strange roundabout talk of being able to tell what someone had eaten by scent alone.
"Ah—"
Just as Lawrence realized, Holo drew so near that he could count her individual eyelashes.
"All I can do is pray you stop being such a reckless male. I'd then spend less effort trying to teach you the difference betwixt courage and foolhardiness."
When they had spoken by the spring of gold, Eve had drunk the same ale that Lawrence had.
Among merchants, cup sharing was not something worth worrying about.
But while that might hold true for merchants, it was not necessarily so for Holo.
"Look here, this is a misunderstanding."
Lawrence tried to defend himself from at least that count, whereupon Holo violently released his ear and spoke in a quiet voice.
"I am perfectly aware of that. I told you, 'tis impossible to hide anything from me."
It had not particularly hurt, but Lawrence still rubbed his ear as he turned his gaze away tiredly.
It would have been far more charming of her to simply admit her worry—and if he said so, he would get an ear bitten off.
Also, this business with Eve was only a possibility, and the moment they would have to bet on that possibility was rapidly approaching.
Or was it just the very fact of the prospect entering their field of view that upset Holo so?
Lawrence wondered about it as Holo roused Col, who had obediently placed his head down on the table.
He thought he understood, more or less.
Holo was truly worried.
As the tale of the wolf bones took on more plausibility, her worry was no doubt turning stronger.
"In any case, what we should do now is—" Holo began with strange vigor, which snapped Lawrence out of his reverie.
Col was cleaning up the table surface in Holo's direction.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what she was up to, Holo held Lawrence's coin purse up, having loosened it from his waist at some point, and continued talking.
"—We put an end to this stubbornness and ask young Col for his thoughts. Unless your heart's set on seducing that vixen, that is."
Lawrence, of course, only slumped and sighed.
Only the finest trading companies had glass windows.
Normally they had either nothing at all or oil-soaked cloth at best.
The inn where Lawrence and company were staying was no exception, and the opened outside windows freely let in both the clamor of the town and the frigid air.
But for once, the cold wind had been forgotten.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Her tail was wagging her irritation for just that reason.
"We need but seduce her. You're trying to fool this wisewolf, so it should be no trouble at all, nay?"
Love affairs trumped proper business deals.
This wolf already knew full well things that Lawrence had learned in his many years as a merchant.
But Lawrence didn't understand why she was speaking about it with such irritation.
Setting aside whether or not it was a real possibility, as a potential means to an end it certainly existed.
So long as they were only discussing it, there was no need for such ill temper.
Lawrence flinched a bit at Holo's smile, and Holo looked suddenly behind her.
"Col, my lad, close your eyes and cover your ears."
"Wha—?"
He hesitated for but a moment.
By this time well trained by Holo, Col obeyed her with frightening speed.
Holo gave a satisfied sigh and turned back to Lawrence. "Did you think I had not noticed?"
Her smile disappeared, and she grabbed Lawrence's ear and pulled him close.
"Wh-what are you—"
"Even you can tell what someone has eaten by what remains on their mouth. But I can tell by scent alone. Even the slightest morsel if I get that close."
Lawrence soon realized what Holo was referring to by "that close."
He had listened to Eve by the spring of gold, then had his pathetic worries soothed on the second floor of the tavern.
But why was Holo angry about that now of all times? Lawrence wondered, then realized something strange—something immediately following his conversation with Eve, and now the possibility of seducing her.
And this strange roundabout talk of being able to tell what someone had eaten by scent alone.
"Ah—"
Just as Lawrence realized, Holo drew so near that he could count her individual eyelashes.
"All I can do is pray you stop being such a reckless male. I'd then spend less effort trying to teach you the difference betwixt courage and foolhardiness."
When they had spoken by the spring of gold, Eve had drunk the same ale that Lawrence had.
Among merchants, cup sharing was not something worth worrying about.
But while that might hold true for merchants, it was not necessarily so for Holo.
"Look here, this is a misunderstanding."
Lawrence tried to defend himself from at least that count, whereupon Holo violently released his ear and spoke in a quiet voice.
"I am perfectly aware of that. I told you, 'tis impossible to hide anything from me."
It had not particularly hurt, but Lawrence still rubbed his ear as he turned his gaze away tiredly.
It would have been far more charming of her to simply admit her worry—and if he said so, he would get an ear bitten off.
Also, this business with Eve was only a possibility, and the moment they would have to bet on that possibility was rapidly approaching.
Or was it just the very fact of the prospect entering their field of view that upset Holo so?
Lawrence wondered about it as Holo roused Col, who had obediently placed his head down on the table.
He thought he understood, more or less.
Holo was truly worried.
As the tale of the wolf bones took on more plausibility, her worry was no doubt turning stronger.
"In any case, what we should do now is—" Holo began with strange vigor, which snapped Lawrence out of his reverie.
Col was cleaning up the table surface in Holo's direction.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what she was up to, Holo held Lawrence's coin purse up, having loosened it from his waist at some point, and continued talking.
"—We put an end to this stubbornness and ask young Col for his thoughts. Unless your heart's set on seducing that vixen, that is."
Lawrence, of course, only slumped and sighed.
Only the finest trading companies had glass windows.
Normally they had either nothing at all or oil-soaked cloth at best.
The inn where Lawrence and company were staying was no exception, and the opened outside windows freely let in both the clamor of the town and the frigid air.
But for once, the cold wind had been forgotten.
| This was what it meant to be stunned into silence.
"...It can't be...," Lawrence finally murmured.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
That did not, of course, change the reality of what was on the table.
"...Aye, common sense is a troublesome opponent...and yet...and yet..."
Lawrence knew of many methods to cheat in business, and the more complicated they were, the more power they had.
Moneychangers' fraud happened in the exchange markets, with their hundreds of varieties of coins, old and new, from near and far, and fraud around the buying and selling of physical wares involved either complicated machinations or deals made on intricate timelines.
Of course, there were more straightforward frauds, but in most cases, those relied on the skillful tongue of the swindler as opposed to the method itself.
This was the first time Lawrence had been so surprised by both a trick's nature and its source.
"Er...I don't remember the exact amount, but if they used this method and made a bit of an adjustment, they would go from fifty-seven boxes of copper coin to sixty...I think."
Lawrence and Holo's shock made Col's voice a little less certain.
"No, I'm sure it would. Yes, I see. And no one would be the wiser."
"Doubtless not. And still...hnh," Holo muttered in frustration, pinching Col's cheek.
Lawrence could not even manage that.
Col had discovered a mystery: Fifty-seven boxes of imported copper coin had become sixty boxes when exported.
The answer lay in the difference between packing coins in parallel stacks of similar height or alternating rows.
Either way resulted in a perfectly packed box, such that if any coins were stolen, it would be immediately obvious.
Moreover, even if there were verbal instructions to "pack coins tightly in boxes," the discrepancy would not be noticed, and in any case, transporting perfectly packed boxes of fixed size reduced the time spent counting coins, also ensuring that if any coins were taken, they would be immediately noticed. So at a given time and place, the only person concerned with how many coins were packed in a box was the buyer receiving them.
While in transit, nobody worried about how many coins were in a box.
This was because taxes were levied by the box, as were transportation fees.
"I wonder, though—has no one else noticed this?"
"Hmm?"
"I'll agree that Col is a bright lad, but there are many bright people in the world. If you did this for years, surely you would eventually meet someone else who knows the trick, would you not?"
Ragusa, the boatman who carried the copper coins down the Roam River to the Jean Company, did the route several times a year and had been doing so for two years.
And it was true that over two years, someone would have opened up one of the boxes and looked at its contents.
But there was one important thing.
"The Jean Company is probably cutting down on the taxes and transport costs they pay and turning profit on the excess, but there's something very particular necessary for anyone to finally realize that they are making dishonest gains."
"Aye?"
"...Ah! The manifest!" Col's cheek was still being pinched by Holo, but with something to think about, he did not seem to notice or mind. He quickly gave the answer with a smile, coming back to himself and looking at Holo.
Holo pinched harder on Col's cheek, as that was indeed the correct answer.
"Yes. Only after we know the details of the export and import can we begin to suspect foul play. There is far too much volume of trade in the world to constantly suspect this kind of fraud. One can't inspect everything."
Even if he wanted to live cautiously, there were many things that escaped the eye.
Lawrence picked up one of the copper coins that was lined up on the table and sighed.
"Still," said Holo, having harassed Col for a while, "this means we've found a weapon to threaten that company, does it not?" she added, her eyes flashing.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | This was what it meant to be stunned into silence.
"...It can't be...," Lawrence finally murmured.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
That did not, of course, change the reality of what was on the table.
"...Aye, common sense is a troublesome opponent...and yet...and yet..."
Lawrence knew of many methods to cheat in business, and the more complicated they were, the more power they had.
Moneychangers' fraud happened in the exchange markets, with their hundreds of varieties of coins, old and new, from near and far, and fraud around the buying and selling of physical wares involved either complicated machinations or deals made on intricate timelines.
Of course, there were more straightforward frauds, but in most cases, those relied on the skillful tongue of the swindler as opposed to the method itself.
This was the first time Lawrence had been so surprised by both a trick's nature and its source.
"Er...I don't remember the exact amount, but if they used this method and made a bit of an adjustment, they would go from fifty-seven boxes of copper coin to sixty...I think."
Lawrence and Holo's shock made Col's voice a little less certain.
"No, I'm sure it would. Yes, I see. And no one would be the wiser."
"Doubtless not. And still...hnh," Holo muttered in frustration, pinching Col's cheek.
Lawrence could not even manage that.
Col had discovered a mystery: Fifty-seven boxes of imported copper coin had become sixty boxes when exported.
The answer lay in the difference between packing coins in parallel stacks of similar height or alternating rows.
Either way resulted in a perfectly packed box, such that if any coins were stolen, it would be immediately obvious.
Moreover, even if there were verbal instructions to "pack coins tightly in boxes," the discrepancy would not be noticed, and in any case, transporting perfectly packed boxes of fixed size reduced the time spent counting coins, also ensuring that if any coins were taken, they would be immediately noticed. So at a given time and place, the only person concerned with how many coins were packed in a box was the buyer receiving them.
While in transit, nobody worried about how many coins were in a box.
This was because taxes were levied by the box, as were transportation fees.
"I wonder, though—has no one else noticed this?"
"Hmm?"
"I'll agree that Col is a bright lad, but there are many bright people in the world. If you did this for years, surely you would eventually meet someone else who knows the trick, would you not?"
Ragusa, the boatman who carried the copper coins down the Roam River to the Jean Company, did the route several times a year and had been doing so for two years.
And it was true that over two years, someone would have opened up one of the boxes and looked at its contents.
But there was one important thing.
"The Jean Company is probably cutting down on the taxes and transport costs they pay and turning profit on the excess, but there's something very particular necessary for anyone to finally realize that they are making dishonest gains."
"Aye?"
"...Ah! The manifest!" Col's cheek was still being pinched by Holo, but with something to think about, he did not seem to notice or mind. He quickly gave the answer with a smile, coming back to himself and looking at Holo.
Holo pinched harder on Col's cheek, as that was indeed the correct answer.
"Yes. Only after we know the details of the export and import can we begin to suspect foul play. There is far too much volume of trade in the world to constantly suspect this kind of fraud. One can't inspect everything."
Even if he wanted to live cautiously, there were many things that escaped the eye.
Lawrence picked up one of the copper coins that was lined up on the table and sighed.
"Still," said Holo, having harassed Col for a while, "this means we've found a weapon to threaten that company, does it not?" she added, her eyes flashing.
| Disappointment was always worse when it took longer to arrive.
"Unfortunately," Lawrence began, at which Holo's smile instantly froze. "As a weapon, it's rather meager."
"Why?" She was more frightening now than when she wore her halfhearted face of annoyance.
But nothing would be solved by holding back his words. "He's reducing the number of boxes shipped by three and profiting via the reduced taxes and transport costs. If this comes to light, the Jean Company will either have to pay penalties or lose their credibility as a trading company. But..."
"But the difference between that penalty and the profit from the wolf bones is too great. 'Tis the same as when we bought these clothes, is it not?" suggested Holo, grabbing at her own garments.
She had calmed her irritated face, perhaps because she had realized there was nothing to do but accept reality.
"That's right. It might've been just the right weapon to use if they were only chasing the wolf tale for fun."
Holo did seem aggrieved, but she was not dejected about having lost one of their leads.
Col, who had solved the riddle of the copper coins in the first place, had gotten ahead of her on that count.
He had surely been looking forward to his knowledge being useful.
Up until a moment earlier, Holo had been pinching his cheek, but now she ruffled his hair in an elder sisterly way.
"Aye, well, that just means the problem's a large one. 'Tis better this than something solved with the trade of a single apple."
"Quite right. If one method won't work, we'll just move on to the next."
Talk was cheap, of course.
They needed but to find something that Reynolds would weigh favorably against the wolf remains, but if such a thing were easily obtained, none of them would need to worry so.
Or perhaps, as Reynolds had been gathering stories and thereby found some hint as to the bones' location, Lawrence and company needed to follow that example and search out more information.
If Reynolds, who did business in Kerube, had managed to find something, then perhaps Kieman had at least a crumb of knowledge.
Lawrence did not know what Kieman was planning, but it surely involved Eve, and the guild would undoubtedly ask some favor of Lawrence on that count. So as compensation for that, perhaps he could ask for information.
It seemed something was happening in the town, so it would not be possible for a little while, but if Kieman's hand had to wait, Lawrence did not particularly mind.
If there was a problem, it had to be—
"If we're thinking of our next move, our problem becomes this: When will Eve depart this town? Judging by what she said, it seems like she wants to free herself from the troublesome ties she has here. She likely plans to leave and not return for some time. And if Reynolds knows that—"
"She'll tell him what she knows, and soon."
Time, as ever, was the enemy.
Lawrence muttered, and Holo continued speaking.
"Which means there's naught to do but seduce her."
Lawrence glared sharply at her—this after how angry she had been just a moment ago.
But given the circumstances, even ridiculous possibilities had to be carefully considered.
In reality, there were countless times when a missed chance would put something out of reach for all eternity.
If the bones fell under Church authority, there was a very real possibility that they would vanish into darkness.
Holo played with Col's hair, and Lawrence stroked his beard as they both considered the possibilities.
Col likewise was surely deep in thought, but three heads were not better than two.
As precious time slipped away, Holo seemed to grow frustrated with thinking and moved away from Col and toward the bed, sitting down and fidgeting her tail out.
Lawrence watched this and looked at Col, who likewise looked back at him.
The two exchanged a sad smile, as though agreeing a short break was in order, when—
"Hmph." Holo looked up, her ears turning toward the hallway.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Disappointment was always worse when it took longer to arrive.
"Unfortunately," Lawrence began, at which Holo's smile instantly froze. "As a weapon, it's rather meager."
"Why?" She was more frightening now than when she wore her halfhearted face of annoyance.
But nothing would be solved by holding back his words. "He's reducing the number of boxes shipped by three and profiting via the reduced taxes and transport costs. If this comes to light, the Jean Company will either have to pay penalties or lose their credibility as a trading company. But..."
"But the difference between that penalty and the profit from the wolf bones is too great. 'Tis the same as when we bought these clothes, is it not?" suggested Holo, grabbing at her own garments.
She had calmed her irritated face, perhaps because she had realized there was nothing to do but accept reality.
"That's right. It might've been just the right weapon to use if they were only chasing the wolf tale for fun."
Holo did seem aggrieved, but she was not dejected about having lost one of their leads.
Col, who had solved the riddle of the copper coins in the first place, had gotten ahead of her on that count.
He had surely been looking forward to his knowledge being useful.
Up until a moment earlier, Holo had been pinching his cheek, but now she ruffled his hair in an elder sisterly way.
"Aye, well, that just means the problem's a large one. 'Tis better this than something solved with the trade of a single apple."
"Quite right. If one method won't work, we'll just move on to the next."
Talk was cheap, of course.
They needed but to find something that Reynolds would weigh favorably against the wolf remains, but if such a thing were easily obtained, none of them would need to worry so.
Or perhaps, as Reynolds had been gathering stories and thereby found some hint as to the bones' location, Lawrence and company needed to follow that example and search out more information.
If Reynolds, who did business in Kerube, had managed to find something, then perhaps Kieman had at least a crumb of knowledge.
Lawrence did not know what Kieman was planning, but it surely involved Eve, and the guild would undoubtedly ask some favor of Lawrence on that count. So as compensation for that, perhaps he could ask for information.
It seemed something was happening in the town, so it would not be possible for a little while, but if Kieman's hand had to wait, Lawrence did not particularly mind.
If there was a problem, it had to be—
"If we're thinking of our next move, our problem becomes this: When will Eve depart this town? Judging by what she said, it seems like she wants to free herself from the troublesome ties she has here. She likely plans to leave and not return for some time. And if Reynolds knows that—"
"She'll tell him what she knows, and soon."
Time, as ever, was the enemy.
Lawrence muttered, and Holo continued speaking.
"Which means there's naught to do but seduce her."
Lawrence glared sharply at her—this after how angry she had been just a moment ago.
But given the circumstances, even ridiculous possibilities had to be carefully considered.
In reality, there were countless times when a missed chance would put something out of reach for all eternity.
If the bones fell under Church authority, there was a very real possibility that they would vanish into darkness.
Holo played with Col's hair, and Lawrence stroked his beard as they both considered the possibilities.
Col likewise was surely deep in thought, but three heads were not better than two.
As precious time slipped away, Holo seemed to grow frustrated with thinking and moved away from Col and toward the bed, sitting down and fidgeting her tail out.
Lawrence watched this and looked at Col, who likewise looked back at him.
The two exchanged a sad smile, as though agreeing a short break was in order, when—
"Hmph." Holo looked up, her ears turning toward the hallway.
| The keenness of her hearing was soon demonstrated again.
"Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Kraft Lawrence." His name was called just as there was a knock at the door.
It was the innkeeper's voice, but why would he bother coming all the way up to a guest's room?
Without so much as needing to exchange winks, Col immediately stood and made for the door.
They had paid for their room in advance, and Lawrence had no memory of cracking any of the cups and bowls they had borrowed.
As he was thinking about it, through the opened door appeared the innkeeper, hunched over and looking furtively around. "Ah, you're still here."
"Quite. Is something the matter?"
"Yes, I was asked to give this to you."
"To me?"
Just as Lawrence was wondering what the innkeeper could possibly have for him, the man produced a sealed letter from his breast pocket.
Lawrence took it and opened it; upon the message was neat handwriting.
"Come to the Lydon Inn....Want to discuss statues. For details, talk to the...innkeeper?" Lawrence murmured as he read the letter's contents. When he looked up, he saw the innkeeper's gaze still upon the note.
The moment his eyes met Lawrence's, he nodded decisively.
"Aha, I see. Very good, sir. Will you be traveling alone?"
Lawrence had no idea what he was talking about, but looked back down at the letter.
The last line said, "Come alone."
"Very good, sir. I'll prepare a fast carriage. Please wait just a moment."
"Er...yes," Lawrence replied stupidly, at which the innkeeper bowed politely and trotted off.
"What was that all about?"
"I'm not really sure...oh, of course. This is an inn Eve recommended to me."
Lawrence returned to the table and set the letter on it.
Holo seemed to have been sure he was going to bring it to her and got off the bed looking irritated.
"Something urgent must have come up. She's going to quite a bit of trouble."
"Will you be all right alone?"
Holo picked up the letter between two fingers, sniffing suspiciously at it by way of appraisal.
Given the way she wrinkled her nose at it, the letter had to be from Eve.
"I'll make sure to seduce her well."
"Fool," spat Holo before repeating herself. "Will you be safe alone?"
This time Lawrence was not teasing. "If she wanted to put me in danger, there are many other ways to do it. She must have some reason for this."
***
Holo closed her mouth, aggrieved, her tail flicking.
She was either worried he was going to fall into yet another trap or possibly just thought he was helpless.
Either way, the letter asked him to come alone, and he planned to go alone.
If he did not trust Eve, that would only give her cause to be mistrustful of him.
But having explained as much to Holo, he got the feeling she was still displeased.
Lawrence was at a loss for what to say, but then his savior appeared.
"It's all right, Miss Holo. I'll be here with you while Mr. Lawrence is out."
No one could fail to laugh upon hearing Col's desperate joke.
Holo closed her eyes and burst out laughing.
If Col, who was even younger than Lawrence, could manage to be so considerate, then Holo the Wisewolf could hardly fail to do likewise.
At length her laughter subsided, and she sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "So there it is, then. Seems young Col will be watching over me while you're away."
Lawrence gave Col a wink.
He could only be thankful for the smile he got in reply.
"Well, I'll be off, then. If anyone suspicious comes by, don't open the door for them. You never know—it might be a wolf."
Holo snorted at the joke. "Without good news, I don't know that I'll be able to stay in my human form."
It was nothing to joke about, but Lawrence decided to put off that conversation until later, as whatever debt the innkeeper owed Eve, it was enough for him to prepare a fast horse-drawn carriage in a manner entirely befitting of the word haste, and he called for Lawrence.
"I'll give you more details in the carriage, sir."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The keenness of her hearing was soon demonstrated again.
"Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Kraft Lawrence." His name was called just as there was a knock at the door.
It was the innkeeper's voice, but why would he bother coming all the way up to a guest's room?
Without so much as needing to exchange winks, Col immediately stood and made for the door.
They had paid for their room in advance, and Lawrence had no memory of cracking any of the cups and bowls they had borrowed.
As he was thinking about it, through the opened door appeared the innkeeper, hunched over and looking furtively around. "Ah, you're still here."
"Quite. Is something the matter?"
"Yes, I was asked to give this to you."
"To me?"
Just as Lawrence was wondering what the innkeeper could possibly have for him, the man produced a sealed letter from his breast pocket.
Lawrence took it and opened it; upon the message was neat handwriting.
"Come to the Lydon Inn....Want to discuss statues. For details, talk to the...innkeeper?" Lawrence murmured as he read the letter's contents. When he looked up, he saw the innkeeper's gaze still upon the note.
The moment his eyes met Lawrence's, he nodded decisively.
"Aha, I see. Very good, sir. Will you be traveling alone?"
Lawrence had no idea what he was talking about, but looked back down at the letter.
The last line said, "Come alone."
"Very good, sir. I'll prepare a fast carriage. Please wait just a moment."
"Er...yes," Lawrence replied stupidly, at which the innkeeper bowed politely and trotted off.
"What was that all about?"
"I'm not really sure...oh, of course. This is an inn Eve recommended to me."
Lawrence returned to the table and set the letter on it.
Holo seemed to have been sure he was going to bring it to her and got off the bed looking irritated.
"Something urgent must have come up. She's going to quite a bit of trouble."
"Will you be all right alone?"
Holo picked up the letter between two fingers, sniffing suspiciously at it by way of appraisal.
Given the way she wrinkled her nose at it, the letter had to be from Eve.
"I'll make sure to seduce her well."
"Fool," spat Holo before repeating herself. "Will you be safe alone?"
This time Lawrence was not teasing. "If she wanted to put me in danger, there are many other ways to do it. She must have some reason for this."
***
Holo closed her mouth, aggrieved, her tail flicking.
She was either worried he was going to fall into yet another trap or possibly just thought he was helpless.
Either way, the letter asked him to come alone, and he planned to go alone.
If he did not trust Eve, that would only give her cause to be mistrustful of him.
But having explained as much to Holo, he got the feeling she was still displeased.
Lawrence was at a loss for what to say, but then his savior appeared.
"It's all right, Miss Holo. I'll be here with you while Mr. Lawrence is out."
No one could fail to laugh upon hearing Col's desperate joke.
Holo closed her eyes and burst out laughing.
If Col, who was even younger than Lawrence, could manage to be so considerate, then Holo the Wisewolf could hardly fail to do likewise.
At length her laughter subsided, and she sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "So there it is, then. Seems young Col will be watching over me while you're away."
Lawrence gave Col a wink.
He could only be thankful for the smile he got in reply.
"Well, I'll be off, then. If anyone suspicious comes by, don't open the door for them. You never know—it might be a wolf."
Holo snorted at the joke. "Without good news, I don't know that I'll be able to stay in my human form."
It was nothing to joke about, but Lawrence decided to put off that conversation until later, as whatever debt the innkeeper owed Eve, it was enough for him to prepare a fast horse-drawn carriage in a manner entirely befitting of the word haste, and he called for Lawrence.
"I'll give you more details in the carriage, sir."
| Lawrence nodded and followed the innkeeper's lead.
It had been the right decision to bring Col along on this journey, Lawrence thought to himself as he pictured the boy's face when he uttered that desperate joke.
When he emerged from the back of the inn, there waited for him no jet-black coach but rather a normal carriage. The innkeeper gave Lawrence a cloak, which he pulled low over his head.
It was obvious that Eve wanted to meet Lawrence in secret, but what he did not know was how she had such influence over the innkeeper.
Even if he did owe her some debt, there was something strange about it.
That sense of apprehension only grew as they approached the building known as the Lydon Inn.
The building was down a narrow street where careless driving blocked the way in a district where cobblers and coopers worked tirelessly under the eaves, despite the chill. Like the hideout Eve had led him to before, the building was darkened with age and seemed to have seen the passing of many seasons.
Directly across the street at what seemed to be a tailor's workshop, three men worked to cut down a large skin.
Aristocrats hated labor of all kinds.
This was not a place a refined person would live.
And upon entering the craft district, Lawrence became aware of their strange gazes upon him.
Even if it wasn't surprising they'd be curious at his arrival, given that they would know the faces of anyone who came here, there was something more than just curiosity in their gazes.
If he had to put his finger on it, they seemed to be on the lookout.
"I've brought a guest."
The driver of Lawrence's carriage knocked at the door with a cane as soon as they pulled up to the building.
The informality of it was surprising, but something about the way he knocked was odd, and it was probably some kind of signal.
Before long the door opened, and from within emerged a face Lawrence was not unfamiliar with.
It was one of the mean-eyed young men who'd been with Eve on the delta.
"Inside," he said, jerking his head back after giving Lawrence an appraising look.
Lawrence couldn't shake the feeling that he'd gotten himself involved in something big, but having realized it, it was not as though he could do anything about it.
After all, being frightened wasn't in his best interests, so Lawrence armed himself with his merchant's curiosity.
He gave the silent driver a nod and got out of the carriage, then unhesitatingly reached for the door.
The weathered door suited the house, which was one step away from being completely dilapidated, but the wood it used was solid, and most importantly, it did not creak.
When he opened the door and entered, he saw the man who'd greeted him leaning against the wall, regarding him.
No matter where a merchant found himself delivered, he couldn't help smiling.
Lawrence gave the man a pleasant smile, and the man, who wore an obvious sword at his belt, indicated a hallway with his eyes.
The walls were half-stone and half-wood, and the floor was packed earth.
The place had probably been a craftsman's workshop at one point.
As he walked farther in, his feet scuff-scuffing audibly on the floor, he found himself calmed by the scent he smelled—it was burning wood, which suited the season.
He opened the door at the end of the hallway, revealing what seemed to be a workshop-turned-living room. At the moment, though, it was no more than a storage space, with crates and barrels piled high and no particular sense that anyone was living there.
On the left side of the room there was a fireplace, and the area seemed to be set up to let someone pass at least a bit of time there.
"Surprised, are you?" Sitting in a chair and warming herself in front of the fire, Eve looked up from a bundle of parchment.
She looked not unlike a noblewoman reading over petitions from her land's residents, but when she looked back and revealed her face, Lawrence was a bit surprised.
The left corner of her mouth was red and swollen.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence nodded and followed the innkeeper's lead.
It had been the right decision to bring Col along on this journey, Lawrence thought to himself as he pictured the boy's face when he uttered that desperate joke.
When he emerged from the back of the inn, there waited for him no jet-black coach but rather a normal carriage. The innkeeper gave Lawrence a cloak, which he pulled low over his head.
It was obvious that Eve wanted to meet Lawrence in secret, but what he did not know was how she had such influence over the innkeeper.
Even if he did owe her some debt, there was something strange about it.
That sense of apprehension only grew as they approached the building known as the Lydon Inn.
The building was down a narrow street where careless driving blocked the way in a district where cobblers and coopers worked tirelessly under the eaves, despite the chill. Like the hideout Eve had led him to before, the building was darkened with age and seemed to have seen the passing of many seasons.
Directly across the street at what seemed to be a tailor's workshop, three men worked to cut down a large skin.
Aristocrats hated labor of all kinds.
This was not a place a refined person would live.
And upon entering the craft district, Lawrence became aware of their strange gazes upon him.
Even if it wasn't surprising they'd be curious at his arrival, given that they would know the faces of anyone who came here, there was something more than just curiosity in their gazes.
If he had to put his finger on it, they seemed to be on the lookout.
"I've brought a guest."
The driver of Lawrence's carriage knocked at the door with a cane as soon as they pulled up to the building.
The informality of it was surprising, but something about the way he knocked was odd, and it was probably some kind of signal.
Before long the door opened, and from within emerged a face Lawrence was not unfamiliar with.
It was one of the mean-eyed young men who'd been with Eve on the delta.
"Inside," he said, jerking his head back after giving Lawrence an appraising look.
Lawrence couldn't shake the feeling that he'd gotten himself involved in something big, but having realized it, it was not as though he could do anything about it.
After all, being frightened wasn't in his best interests, so Lawrence armed himself with his merchant's curiosity.
He gave the silent driver a nod and got out of the carriage, then unhesitatingly reached for the door.
The weathered door suited the house, which was one step away from being completely dilapidated, but the wood it used was solid, and most importantly, it did not creak.
When he opened the door and entered, he saw the man who'd greeted him leaning against the wall, regarding him.
No matter where a merchant found himself delivered, he couldn't help smiling.
Lawrence gave the man a pleasant smile, and the man, who wore an obvious sword at his belt, indicated a hallway with his eyes.
The walls were half-stone and half-wood, and the floor was packed earth.
The place had probably been a craftsman's workshop at one point.
As he walked farther in, his feet scuff-scuffing audibly on the floor, he found himself calmed by the scent he smelled—it was burning wood, which suited the season.
He opened the door at the end of the hallway, revealing what seemed to be a workshop-turned-living room. At the moment, though, it was no more than a storage space, with crates and barrels piled high and no particular sense that anyone was living there.
On the left side of the room there was a fireplace, and the area seemed to be set up to let someone pass at least a bit of time there.
"Surprised, are you?" Sitting in a chair and warming herself in front of the fire, Eve looked up from a bundle of parchment.
She looked not unlike a noblewoman reading over petitions from her land's residents, but when she looked back and revealed her face, Lawrence was a bit surprised.
The left corner of her mouth was red and swollen.
| It took Lawrence a moment to realize she was joking.
It seemed unlikely that she'd fallen and hurt herself, so someone must have hit her.
"Sorry to call you out so suddenly."
"...Not at all. I'm honored to be summoned for a secret rendezvous with a beautiful woman."
Spoken with a smile, it was a bad joke.
Spoken seriously, it was the opposite.
"A secret rendezvous, eh? Well, anyway, sit. Sadly, I've no servants," said Eve, indicating an empty chair. Her gaze fell back down to the parchment in her hand before she watched Lawrence sit.
"It's a bit chilly as homes go."
Resting her left elbow on the table, Eve remained facing the fireplace as she regarded the parchment before her.
She offered Lawrence no reply.
"Still, I imagine it's nice and cool in the summertime."
"It's winter now," she replied harshly, which Lawrence smiled at.
"So much the better. It'll be warm if you get out."
At this Eve finally looked up.
Her mouth looked like it hurt, but her eyes were smiling. "Heh. Right you are. I'd love to get out; the sooner the better."
"So why here?" He left out "Why are you locked up here?" given the man who was undoubtedly listening in on their conversation outside the room.
Eve sighed, and setting down the parchment, she spoke. "You would hide your weapons of last resort, too, would you not?"
"...I would, it's true."
As a former aristocrat and someone even top members of guild houses like Kieman recognized on sight, Eve was probably the Kerube landowners' trump card.
Lawrence glanced at the aging parchment on the table, and from the rows of writing and formulas, he could tell it was a property transaction of some kind.
Essentially, Eve was being forced to plan the battle here, all on her own.
"Of course, the reason I'm locked up in here at sword point isn't because of this contract. Nor did I call you out here to suggest you cross some dangerous bridge with me."
Only Eve, who'd dragged him into a deeply dangerous deal back in Lenos, the town of lumber and fur, could make this joke.
"Still, I'm glad you let yourself be caught. If things go badly, I'll need my bread torn into rather small pieces tonight."
Lawrence realized they were moving from pleasant chitchat into a business discussion.
What Eve meant was simple.
Whoever hit her left cheek would also hit her right.
"The reason I called you is indeed the commotion in the town—you noticed it, yes?"
"Yes...something about the fishermen's boats from this side of town docking in the south, was it?"
"Indeed. It's as though God timed it. The news reached us as we were leaving the delta and returning to this side. It's like a different town across the river. We'd be recognized, so once the rioting started we couldn't cross. Even though our spies made it to the south side, there wasn't time for them to return."
This sort of talk was not especially familiar to Lawrence, who traveled from town to town, but it wasn't as though he couldn't understand the basic idea of a territorial dispute.
As Eve spoke, Lawrence realized why he'd been summoned.
He didn't yet know how important it was, but his merchant's instincts were making him sit up and pay attention—that much he was sure of.
"As I'm sure you've guessed, there's information I need. I reckon you were at that delta guild house right up until the last moment. What did you hear there, I wonder?"
Eve was speaking as though she knew that Lawrence had been at the guild house.
Practically speaking, she knew that he was a member of the Rowen Trade Guild, so it wouldn't have been hard to guess he'd been there.
But given that she was bringing this up here and now, there could be no doubt that the people who'd locked Eve up were observing him.
Of course, this could also be a trap she'd laid just to make him think so.
"I know a bit."
"Even a bit is fine."
Lawrence dropped his gaze to the parchment on the table, considering how much he should hide.
But after a moment, when he looked up, he spoke openly and frankly.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It took Lawrence a moment to realize she was joking.
It seemed unlikely that she'd fallen and hurt herself, so someone must have hit her.
"Sorry to call you out so suddenly."
"...Not at all. I'm honored to be summoned for a secret rendezvous with a beautiful woman."
Spoken with a smile, it was a bad joke.
Spoken seriously, it was the opposite.
"A secret rendezvous, eh? Well, anyway, sit. Sadly, I've no servants," said Eve, indicating an empty chair. Her gaze fell back down to the parchment in her hand before she watched Lawrence sit.
"It's a bit chilly as homes go."
Resting her left elbow on the table, Eve remained facing the fireplace as she regarded the parchment before her.
She offered Lawrence no reply.
"Still, I imagine it's nice and cool in the summertime."
"It's winter now," she replied harshly, which Lawrence smiled at.
"So much the better. It'll be warm if you get out."
At this Eve finally looked up.
Her mouth looked like it hurt, but her eyes were smiling. "Heh. Right you are. I'd love to get out; the sooner the better."
"So why here?" He left out "Why are you locked up here?" given the man who was undoubtedly listening in on their conversation outside the room.
Eve sighed, and setting down the parchment, she spoke. "You would hide your weapons of last resort, too, would you not?"
"...I would, it's true."
As a former aristocrat and someone even top members of guild houses like Kieman recognized on sight, Eve was probably the Kerube landowners' trump card.
Lawrence glanced at the aging parchment on the table, and from the rows of writing and formulas, he could tell it was a property transaction of some kind.
Essentially, Eve was being forced to plan the battle here, all on her own.
"Of course, the reason I'm locked up in here at sword point isn't because of this contract. Nor did I call you out here to suggest you cross some dangerous bridge with me."
Only Eve, who'd dragged him into a deeply dangerous deal back in Lenos, the town of lumber and fur, could make this joke.
"Still, I'm glad you let yourself be caught. If things go badly, I'll need my bread torn into rather small pieces tonight."
Lawrence realized they were moving from pleasant chitchat into a business discussion.
What Eve meant was simple.
Whoever hit her left cheek would also hit her right.
"The reason I called you is indeed the commotion in the town—you noticed it, yes?"
"Yes...something about the fishermen's boats from this side of town docking in the south, was it?"
"Indeed. It's as though God timed it. The news reached us as we were leaving the delta and returning to this side. It's like a different town across the river. We'd be recognized, so once the rioting started we couldn't cross. Even though our spies made it to the south side, there wasn't time for them to return."
This sort of talk was not especially familiar to Lawrence, who traveled from town to town, but it wasn't as though he couldn't understand the basic idea of a territorial dispute.
As Eve spoke, Lawrence realized why he'd been summoned.
He didn't yet know how important it was, but his merchant's instincts were making him sit up and pay attention—that much he was sure of.
"As I'm sure you've guessed, there's information I need. I reckon you were at that delta guild house right up until the last moment. What did you hear there, I wonder?"
Eve was speaking as though she knew that Lawrence had been at the guild house.
Practically speaking, she knew that he was a member of the Rowen Trade Guild, so it wouldn't have been hard to guess he'd been there.
But given that she was bringing this up here and now, there could be no doubt that the people who'd locked Eve up were observing him.
Of course, this could also be a trap she'd laid just to make him think so.
"I know a bit."
"Even a bit is fine."
Lawrence dropped his gaze to the parchment on the table, considering how much he should hide.
But after a moment, when he looked up, he spoke openly and frankly.
| He'd told his opponent everything he knew without asking for any compensation, and yet this was not an uncalculated move.
"...Is that hearsay?"
"My companion got quite close to the church evidently," said Lawrence, and Eve exhaled a deep breath, looked up, and closed her eyes.
She then composed herself and opened her eyes.
"So that's it, is it?"
Lawrence had been right not to lie to Eve.
She didn't have time to bargain with him just to get a bit of information.
"I'm glad you're not some stingy-talking small fry."
"Ah, but if I were a big fish, I wouldn't have to come when called."
"True enough. But when you're a big fish, the world is filled with passages too narrow for you to pass."
The odds could not have been good that Lawrence would have information about the disturbance in the town.
Even if he had been at the trading house, there was no guarantee he would have gotten the information.
Yet she'd found a way to hide her good nature and call Lawrence here, which meant there had to be another reason she'd done so.
And then the reason he'd vaguely anticipated was made clear by her words.
"So are you telling me to go down a small passage?"
"You're in a unique position in this town. You don't have any proper connections here, but you're able to have a pleasant conversation with someone that many in this town are very eager to connect with."
Eve's eyes narrowed in a smile.
As he listened to her words, the image of Kieman claiming to be acquainted with Eve flashed through his mind.
"Of course, I won't say it's free. The story was told to me by the lot that locked me up in here, and their bellies are too large for them to fit through its paths."
She waved a single page of parchment.
It was a contract, signed and stamped.
It was written in the old-style writing and involved the delta marketplace.
"I've only meager coin and goods, sadly, but I've more than enough connections and influence. It'll be a good footing for business."
"And not a yoke?" asked Lawrence, and the fake smile disappeared from Eve's face as she turned expressionless.
"...Yes, a yoke." She reached up and touched her cheek, then looked at her fingers, probably checking for blood. "Aren't you going to ask me how I got this wound?"
"How'd you get it?" Lawrence immediately asked, at which Eve's shoulders shook with mirth, and she covered her mouth like a town lass.
The fact that she seemed genuinely amused was painful to see.
"Well played. It's not that I'm asking you only because you're in the best position."
"But I'm also not badly placed to cross that dangerous bridge."
This was not merely banter.
The moment he let his guard down was the moment he'd be crossing that bridge free of charge.
"My exploiting a gap and your protecting what you have are not the same thing."
"Indeed. My conversations with my companion cut me to the bone."
Constantly on the defensive, Lawrence knew he would eventually lose to Eve.
She nodded and changed her expression. "There's no longer much doubt. The north-side fisherman caught a narwhal."
"A nar—" Lawrence began, but then hastily checked the door over his shoulder.
"Don't worry, he's not such cheap help that he'd eavesdrop on me. The people who locked me up here are terrified I'll get angry, even though they did this to me."
Lawrence didn't know how far he could trust that, but there was nothing to be gained by doubting them.
He nodded and faced forward, then asked the question again. "A narwhal? As in the immortal sort?"
"Yes. A horned sea monster. Eating its flesh brings longevity, and its powdered horn cures all diseases."
Lawrence believed such things to be superstitions, and from Eve's tone, it seemed she was not serious.
"I'd heard that without freezing water they die, so how would one make it this far south?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He'd told his opponent everything he knew without asking for any compensation, and yet this was not an uncalculated move.
"...Is that hearsay?"
"My companion got quite close to the church evidently," said Lawrence, and Eve exhaled a deep breath, looked up, and closed her eyes.
She then composed herself and opened her eyes.
"So that's it, is it?"
Lawrence had been right not to lie to Eve.
She didn't have time to bargain with him just to get a bit of information.
"I'm glad you're not some stingy-talking small fry."
"Ah, but if I were a big fish, I wouldn't have to come when called."
"True enough. But when you're a big fish, the world is filled with passages too narrow for you to pass."
The odds could not have been good that Lawrence would have information about the disturbance in the town.
Even if he had been at the trading house, there was no guarantee he would have gotten the information.
Yet she'd found a way to hide her good nature and call Lawrence here, which meant there had to be another reason she'd done so.
And then the reason he'd vaguely anticipated was made clear by her words.
"So are you telling me to go down a small passage?"
"You're in a unique position in this town. You don't have any proper connections here, but you're able to have a pleasant conversation with someone that many in this town are very eager to connect with."
Eve's eyes narrowed in a smile.
As he listened to her words, the image of Kieman claiming to be acquainted with Eve flashed through his mind.
"Of course, I won't say it's free. The story was told to me by the lot that locked me up in here, and their bellies are too large for them to fit through its paths."
She waved a single page of parchment.
It was a contract, signed and stamped.
It was written in the old-style writing and involved the delta marketplace.
"I've only meager coin and goods, sadly, but I've more than enough connections and influence. It'll be a good footing for business."
"And not a yoke?" asked Lawrence, and the fake smile disappeared from Eve's face as she turned expressionless.
"...Yes, a yoke." She reached up and touched her cheek, then looked at her fingers, probably checking for blood. "Aren't you going to ask me how I got this wound?"
"How'd you get it?" Lawrence immediately asked, at which Eve's shoulders shook with mirth, and she covered her mouth like a town lass.
The fact that she seemed genuinely amused was painful to see.
"Well played. It's not that I'm asking you only because you're in the best position."
"But I'm also not badly placed to cross that dangerous bridge."
This was not merely banter.
The moment he let his guard down was the moment he'd be crossing that bridge free of charge.
"My exploiting a gap and your protecting what you have are not the same thing."
"Indeed. My conversations with my companion cut me to the bone."
Constantly on the defensive, Lawrence knew he would eventually lose to Eve.
She nodded and changed her expression. "There's no longer much doubt. The north-side fisherman caught a narwhal."
"A nar—" Lawrence began, but then hastily checked the door over his shoulder.
"Don't worry, he's not such cheap help that he'd eavesdrop on me. The people who locked me up here are terrified I'll get angry, even though they did this to me."
Lawrence didn't know how far he could trust that, but there was nothing to be gained by doubting them.
He nodded and faced forward, then asked the question again. "A narwhal? As in the immortal sort?"
"Yes. A horned sea monster. Eating its flesh brings longevity, and its powdered horn cures all diseases."
Lawrence believed such things to be superstitions, and from Eve's tone, it seemed she was not serious.
"I'd heard that without freezing water they die, so how would one make it this far south?"
| There were any number of tales about immortality methods and cure-all medicines.
Moreover, orthodox believers seemed every bit as inclined to believe them as pagans did.
People's desire to believe in a land free of sickness and suffering where one went after death was proof the world was filled with suffering, and likewise the very fact of the Church's teachings meant that eternal life could never actually be gained.
Travelers and merchants who wandered many lands, seeing all sorts of goods and talking with all sorts of people, as well as soldiers for whom death or old age were constant companions—they all knew such stories were mere superstitions.
But there were many who did not know.
And aristocrats who'd never left their lands were a perfect example.
For a living narwhal, there were some who'd come running, bringing all their gold with them.
"But...surely that doesn't mean—"
"Yes. If they have the narwhal, the north-side faction believes they can turn everything around."
For a moment, Lawrence thought the leg of his chair had broken, so stricken was he at the enormity of the prospect.
This town had enough conflict even in the best of times, and now an article had been found that could flip the balance entirely.
There would be war.
Lawrence realized it instantly.
"The south-side faction wants to control this side at any cost. They can't have equality. It would be bad enough if the north gets the narwhal and sells it to raise the money to pay their debts, and the possibility that they might just involve a landed lord and go straight to war can't be ruled out, either. So the south can't let them have it, no matter the cost. They'll steal it, sell it—two birds, one stone. It will raise an enormous amount."
And if they stormed the church grounds, that would constitute an act of war against the Church.
"So what say you? If you can slip through this passage, don't you think something incredible awaits you on the other side?"
She was right.
Eve was surely trying to use Lawrence's membership in the Rowen Trade Guild to its maximum advantage.
Relations between north and south in this town were at their worst.
Yet in the midst of that, Lawrence had managed to connect with Eve while going unnoticed in the town, which gave him a rare ability.
For a spy, there could be no better position.
But there was something Lawrence had not mentioned.
And that was that he'd already told Kieman about his acquaintance with Eve.
"Will you do it? No..." Eve shook her head deliberately, then looked straight at Lawrence. "What will it take to convince you to do it?"
This would unquestionably involve betraying the guild.
Eve was well aware of that, and the people in the south certainly knew what a trade guild was.
And so Lawrence spoke.
No matter what the reward, Lawrence was confident that as long as it was something he could hold in his hands, it would be granted him.
There was simply that much profit at stake here.
"If I say I'll consider it?"
Eve silently shook her head.
If he refused the offer to become an agent for her, it would not be strange of her to immediately consider him an enemy.
Or at the very least, treat him as such.
Which meant there could be hesitation.
That would be nothing less than hesitation over which side he would ally with, and no one was less trustworthy than a spy.
And yet Lawrence hesitated.
There was no telling what Kieman might be planning, but this could be used.
What would Kieman say if Lawrence told him about this?
With absurd profit piled on both sides of the scale, it didn't easily move either way.
Merchants were always weighing profit and loss.
No, indeed, what else could there be to consider?
"About the wolf remains, was it?" asked Eve flatly, either seeing through Lawrence or having planned to incorporate that into her negotiation all along. "You've good instincts, so I'm sure you noticed that Reynolds is quite serious about them. And that he wants my help."
Eve smiled thinly.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | There were any number of tales about immortality methods and cure-all medicines.
Moreover, orthodox believers seemed every bit as inclined to believe them as pagans did.
People's desire to believe in a land free of sickness and suffering where one went after death was proof the world was filled with suffering, and likewise the very fact of the Church's teachings meant that eternal life could never actually be gained.
Travelers and merchants who wandered many lands, seeing all sorts of goods and talking with all sorts of people, as well as soldiers for whom death or old age were constant companions—they all knew such stories were mere superstitions.
But there were many who did not know.
And aristocrats who'd never left their lands were a perfect example.
For a living narwhal, there were some who'd come running, bringing all their gold with them.
"But...surely that doesn't mean—"
"Yes. If they have the narwhal, the north-side faction believes they can turn everything around."
For a moment, Lawrence thought the leg of his chair had broken, so stricken was he at the enormity of the prospect.
This town had enough conflict even in the best of times, and now an article had been found that could flip the balance entirely.
There would be war.
Lawrence realized it instantly.
"The south-side faction wants to control this side at any cost. They can't have equality. It would be bad enough if the north gets the narwhal and sells it to raise the money to pay their debts, and the possibility that they might just involve a landed lord and go straight to war can't be ruled out, either. So the south can't let them have it, no matter the cost. They'll steal it, sell it—two birds, one stone. It will raise an enormous amount."
And if they stormed the church grounds, that would constitute an act of war against the Church.
"So what say you? If you can slip through this passage, don't you think something incredible awaits you on the other side?"
She was right.
Eve was surely trying to use Lawrence's membership in the Rowen Trade Guild to its maximum advantage.
Relations between north and south in this town were at their worst.
Yet in the midst of that, Lawrence had managed to connect with Eve while going unnoticed in the town, which gave him a rare ability.
For a spy, there could be no better position.
But there was something Lawrence had not mentioned.
And that was that he'd already told Kieman about his acquaintance with Eve.
"Will you do it? No..." Eve shook her head deliberately, then looked straight at Lawrence. "What will it take to convince you to do it?"
This would unquestionably involve betraying the guild.
Eve was well aware of that, and the people in the south certainly knew what a trade guild was.
And so Lawrence spoke.
No matter what the reward, Lawrence was confident that as long as it was something he could hold in his hands, it would be granted him.
There was simply that much profit at stake here.
"If I say I'll consider it?"
Eve silently shook her head.
If he refused the offer to become an agent for her, it would not be strange of her to immediately consider him an enemy.
Or at the very least, treat him as such.
Which meant there could be hesitation.
That would be nothing less than hesitation over which side he would ally with, and no one was less trustworthy than a spy.
And yet Lawrence hesitated.
There was no telling what Kieman might be planning, but this could be used.
What would Kieman say if Lawrence told him about this?
With absurd profit piled on both sides of the scale, it didn't easily move either way.
Merchants were always weighing profit and loss.
No, indeed, what else could there be to consider?
"About the wolf remains, was it?" asked Eve flatly, either seeing through Lawrence or having planned to incorporate that into her negotiation all along. "You've good instincts, so I'm sure you noticed that Reynolds is quite serious about them. And that he wants my help."
Eve smiled thinly.
| She probably even had some idea of whom Reynolds wanted to get in contact with.
"...You knew, and you still wrote me that letter."
"Are you angry?"
"Not at all. I'm glad my guess was right."
Eve smiled cynically, standing up from her chair and tossing two more logs onto the fire.
"There aren't many in the north who can afford wood for their fireplaces. Most burn peat."
"And yet I hear there's more charity on this side."
"Heh. That lad will be popular no matter where he goes."
It was enough to make Lawrence want to know just how sweaty Eve's palms were.
Her expression changed readily, but he could tell well enough that she was hiding her true thoughts.
"So how about it? It's quite an opportunity, I reckon."
"Oh, I'm sure it is."
But demons were always offering great power—in exchange for life.
If Lawrence accepted this, there was no question he would damage the trade guild's profits.
Not only that, but if they were to find out, he would either be cast out or punished.
He claimed not to be worried about Holo, but then he remembered Kieman's sudden change, his cold countenance.
And as a merchant, it was no exaggeration to say that his life would be over.
"Did you see Kieman?" Eve asked.
It wasn't out of any particularly iron-clad self-control that Lawrence didn't show surprise on his face.
Eve's words were just so accurate that his shock stunned him into blankness.
"I reckon my name would be sure to come up if you went to the guild house looking for information. I can see his face now," said Eve with what seemed to be simple amusement, as though she were talking about an old friend.
Or else—were even men like Kieman part of Eve's plots?
No, that couldn't be, Lawrence told himself.
"Yes, quite...he's a great merchant, as I recall."
"He certainly is. There's a gifted trader in every guild, and he's the one," said an animated Eve.
"So, why do you mention this Mr. Kieman?"
"He's no one to be trifled with, and he's been chasing me obsessively. Can't blame me for feeling threatened, eh?"
Eve's narrowed eyes looked distinctly wolflike, perfectly suited to a silvery frozen forest.
"...Quite."
"Anyway, he's a formidable man, no question. He's burned me several times over."
Eve looked down at the table, a thin smile playing over her lips.
Memories let one smile even at unhappy things.
But Eve did not have time to waste on introspection.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"If it comes down to that, what would you say to dropping the guild?"
The notion struck Lawrence as more absurd than surprising. "Where would a merchant who'd left his guild go?" he asked.
Membership brought an expanded business network, various rights and privileges, name recognition, all the various profits that came along with those things.
It also provided the peace of mind of knowing you had comrades all across the land.
Leaving those protections was hardly different from choosing bankruptcy.
"You should come work for me," said Eve, fingering the corner of the parchment.
"For you?"
"Yes. Come work for me."
Lawrence remembered the words Reynolds had used: "Bolan Company."
Did such a thing truly exist? Lawrence wondered, as Eve's gaze became distant, and she pointed to her own mouth and spoke.
"I'm locked up in here on the orders of the guy who gave me this wound," she said, indicating the corner of her mouth with a finger—a finger that was feminine, but somehow differently than Holo's.
It was slender and long, but somehow sturdy as well.
Like a sailor preparing to resist the song of the mermaids, Lawrence readied himself to pour lead into his ears.
"He's the grandson of one of the landowners that originally signed the delta marketplace contracts. He's two years younger than me, but his wits and drive for wealth are about the same as mine. And he holds them about as dearly as I do."
Another cynical smile.
Lawrence wondered if the loneliness he saw in her face was just an illusion.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | She probably even had some idea of whom Reynolds wanted to get in contact with.
"...You knew, and you still wrote me that letter."
"Are you angry?"
"Not at all. I'm glad my guess was right."
Eve smiled cynically, standing up from her chair and tossing two more logs onto the fire.
"There aren't many in the north who can afford wood for their fireplaces. Most burn peat."
"And yet I hear there's more charity on this side."
"Heh. That lad will be popular no matter where he goes."
It was enough to make Lawrence want to know just how sweaty Eve's palms were.
Her expression changed readily, but he could tell well enough that she was hiding her true thoughts.
"So how about it? It's quite an opportunity, I reckon."
"Oh, I'm sure it is."
But demons were always offering great power—in exchange for life.
If Lawrence accepted this, there was no question he would damage the trade guild's profits.
Not only that, but if they were to find out, he would either be cast out or punished.
He claimed not to be worried about Holo, but then he remembered Kieman's sudden change, his cold countenance.
And as a merchant, it was no exaggeration to say that his life would be over.
"Did you see Kieman?" Eve asked.
It wasn't out of any particularly iron-clad self-control that Lawrence didn't show surprise on his face.
Eve's words were just so accurate that his shock stunned him into blankness.
"I reckon my name would be sure to come up if you went to the guild house looking for information. I can see his face now," said Eve with what seemed to be simple amusement, as though she were talking about an old friend.
Or else—were even men like Kieman part of Eve's plots?
No, that couldn't be, Lawrence told himself.
"Yes, quite...he's a great merchant, as I recall."
"He certainly is. There's a gifted trader in every guild, and he's the one," said an animated Eve.
"So, why do you mention this Mr. Kieman?"
"He's no one to be trifled with, and he's been chasing me obsessively. Can't blame me for feeling threatened, eh?"
Eve's narrowed eyes looked distinctly wolflike, perfectly suited to a silvery frozen forest.
"...Quite."
"Anyway, he's a formidable man, no question. He's burned me several times over."
Eve looked down at the table, a thin smile playing over her lips.
Memories let one smile even at unhappy things.
But Eve did not have time to waste on introspection.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"If it comes down to that, what would you say to dropping the guild?"
The notion struck Lawrence as more absurd than surprising. "Where would a merchant who'd left his guild go?" he asked.
Membership brought an expanded business network, various rights and privileges, name recognition, all the various profits that came along with those things.
It also provided the peace of mind of knowing you had comrades all across the land.
Leaving those protections was hardly different from choosing bankruptcy.
"You should come work for me," said Eve, fingering the corner of the parchment.
"For you?"
"Yes. Come work for me."
Lawrence remembered the words Reynolds had used: "Bolan Company."
Did such a thing truly exist? Lawrence wondered, as Eve's gaze became distant, and she pointed to her own mouth and spoke.
"I'm locked up in here on the orders of the guy who gave me this wound," she said, indicating the corner of her mouth with a finger—a finger that was feminine, but somehow differently than Holo's.
It was slender and long, but somehow sturdy as well.
Like a sailor preparing to resist the song of the mermaids, Lawrence readied himself to pour lead into his ears.
"He's the grandson of one of the landowners that originally signed the delta marketplace contracts. He's two years younger than me, but his wits and drive for wealth are about the same as mine. And he holds them about as dearly as I do."
Another cynical smile.
Lawrence wondered if the loneliness he saw in her face was just an illusion.
| Then Eve paused, almost laughing softly, but Lawrence saw her cover it up with a deep breath.
But the smile she swallowed became her flesh and blood, and then it showed purposefully on her face.
"There's no way not to betray this, don't you think?"
From Eve's mouth came terrifying words.
She was wooing Lawrence to convince him to betray the trade guild and collect information about the narwhal.
And that in turn was to help the landowners regain their power in Kerube.
But that was only on the surface. The son of one of the landowners was attempting to have the creature for himself, so he could abandon Kerube and go south.
And Eve was saying she would betray that son.
She faced Lawrence.
She spoke. She, whom he had already betrayed.
"Kieman is trying to use me."
Lawrence's head couldn't keep up with Eve's words.
One by one they piled up too high, and he couldn't make sense of them.
"He knows that wayward son is madly in love with me, you see. So he'll contrive to deceive the son through me."
It was like being blindfolded and led onto a battlefield.
Eve was painting a picture with the things Lawrence didn't know, with the things he couldn't know, and with the things whose truth he couldn't possibly discern.
And even if the picture were explained to him, he wouldn't understand it.
It was impossible to understand.
"His goal is to choke the life out of the landowners. Most likely, he'll try to get them to sign a contract that gives him the rights to the land in exchange for handing over the narwhal. The titles will go to Kieman, and the narwhal will be stolen by the son. You would think it absurd, no? Well, just watch me give the plan to that wayward son. When's the actual answer, you ask?"
To avoid suffocating her audience, Eve posed a question even her audience could answer.
"You've gotten past the love affair."
She nodded, satisfied, perhaps because Lawrence had not gotten out of his seat.
"Kieman, of course, understands why I'm thinking about all of this. The old men hate change. We'd be best rid of these circumstances, but for long years there's been no way to change them. That's true for both the north and south sides. And it's also true that the younger generation is frustrated. I'll bet Kieman's been going mad trying to figure something out, some way to overturn the strange balance of Kerube and reform the town, along the way outwitting the other companies and trade guilds and making a real name for himself. Cleverly, rationally, and for his own reasons."
"Or at least that's the picture the trap you've surely readied is using."
It was all Lawrence could say.
Eve showed Lawrence both palms in a gesture of surrender.
He knew perfectly well he was being made fun of.
"I have no way of verifying the truth of these things you've said. So on what do you suppose I should found my decision?"
The wolf of the Roam River territory smiled and answered, "Your past experiences."
"I've been deceived before."
"Indeed, you have. But a wise merchant said something, once." It was somehow odd that her curled lip was not baring a sharp fang. "Suspect deception, but be deceived," said Eve, and chuckled.
It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if she were drunk.
No, she surely was, for this strange exchange of illusions within illusions.
Lawrence prepared himself and stood up from his chair.
It would only be dangerous to remain here.
"I assume your answer is 'nay'?"
Despite a conversation for which she should have been so drunk she would've been unsteady on her feet, Eve's voice was as cold and clear as a winter stream.
Hence the cold shiver down his back, Lawrence was sure.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Then Eve paused, almost laughing softly, but Lawrence saw her cover it up with a deep breath.
But the smile she swallowed became her flesh and blood, and then it showed purposefully on her face.
"There's no way not to betray this, don't you think?"
From Eve's mouth came terrifying words.
She was wooing Lawrence to convince him to betray the trade guild and collect information about the narwhal.
And that in turn was to help the landowners regain their power in Kerube.
But that was only on the surface. The son of one of the landowners was attempting to have the creature for himself, so he could abandon Kerube and go south.
And Eve was saying she would betray that son.
She faced Lawrence.
She spoke. She, whom he had already betrayed.
"Kieman is trying to use me."
Lawrence's head couldn't keep up with Eve's words.
One by one they piled up too high, and he couldn't make sense of them.
"He knows that wayward son is madly in love with me, you see. So he'll contrive to deceive the son through me."
It was like being blindfolded and led onto a battlefield.
Eve was painting a picture with the things Lawrence didn't know, with the things he couldn't know, and with the things whose truth he couldn't possibly discern.
And even if the picture were explained to him, he wouldn't understand it.
It was impossible to understand.
"His goal is to choke the life out of the landowners. Most likely, he'll try to get them to sign a contract that gives him the rights to the land in exchange for handing over the narwhal. The titles will go to Kieman, and the narwhal will be stolen by the son. You would think it absurd, no? Well, just watch me give the plan to that wayward son. When's the actual answer, you ask?"
To avoid suffocating her audience, Eve posed a question even her audience could answer.
"You've gotten past the love affair."
She nodded, satisfied, perhaps because Lawrence had not gotten out of his seat.
"Kieman, of course, understands why I'm thinking about all of this. The old men hate change. We'd be best rid of these circumstances, but for long years there's been no way to change them. That's true for both the north and south sides. And it's also true that the younger generation is frustrated. I'll bet Kieman's been going mad trying to figure something out, some way to overturn the strange balance of Kerube and reform the town, along the way outwitting the other companies and trade guilds and making a real name for himself. Cleverly, rationally, and for his own reasons."
"Or at least that's the picture the trap you've surely readied is using."
It was all Lawrence could say.
Eve showed Lawrence both palms in a gesture of surrender.
He knew perfectly well he was being made fun of.
"I have no way of verifying the truth of these things you've said. So on what do you suppose I should found my decision?"
The wolf of the Roam River territory smiled and answered, "Your past experiences."
"I've been deceived before."
"Indeed, you have. But a wise merchant said something, once." It was somehow odd that her curled lip was not baring a sharp fang. "Suspect deception, but be deceived," said Eve, and chuckled.
It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if she were drunk.
No, she surely was, for this strange exchange of illusions within illusions.
Lawrence prepared himself and stood up from his chair.
It would only be dangerous to remain here.
"I assume your answer is 'nay'?"
Despite a conversation for which she should have been so drunk she would've been unsteady on her feet, Eve's voice was as cold and clear as a winter stream.
Hence the cold shiver down his back, Lawrence was sure.
| Eve Bolan, the merchant and onetime noblewoman.
Lawrence's hand unconsciously went for the knife at his belt.
"If you think I'm unarmed, you're quite mistaken." The smile disappeared from Eve's face.
She'd claimed he wasn't listening, but there was a guard with a sword standing watch outside the door. And he doubted he was some mere neighborhood ruffian.
And anyway, merchants best avoided sword fights.
Lawrence slowly pulled his hand away from the knife, gave a short bow, turned his back, and began to walk away.
Eve's words came just as he was putting his hand to the door.
"You'll regret it."
The same words Kieman had said.
Lawrence clenched his teeth and opened the door.
There in the hallway, the guard leaned against the wall, eyes closed, just as before.
He looked as he passed by and saw the sword, clasp undone, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
"Tell no one," the guard said.
Lawrence didn't nod, didn't even reply, and not because the order somehow went without saying.
He couldn't tell anyone.
He'd considered himself a full-fledged traveling merchant for many years now—long enough to know perfectly well just how small he was.
And yet he'd just glimpsed a piece of a terrifying structure.
A gamble with a truly unbelievable amount of money.
He couldn't rid himself of the thought of it.
When he opened the front door of the building, a carriage was waiting, and it had been readied for Lawrence.
"Sir, please."
On the opposite side of the driver were the three workers still cutting the hide.
And then Lawrence realized.
They were lookouts.
He accepted the proffered cloak and draped it low over his head as he climbed into the carriage.
He asked himself if he should seek Kieman's protection. Given how much of her own hand Eve had shown, Lawrence couldn't imagine that Kieman would leave him be.
Any deal in a market where the prices were unknown was best abandoned.
Lawrence was lost in contemplation, and before he knew it, he arrived at his inn's rear entrance.
Forcing the strained muscles in his face to move, he thanked the driver, entering the inn and heaving a deep sigh.
The innkeeper's face peeked in—he probably heard the door open and close—and Lawrence wordlessly returned the cloak. He must have looked terrible indeed, for the innkeeper offered him a drink, but Lawrence refused it and made straight for the room.
The best course of action would be to escape before they were sniffed out here and before Kieman turned serious.
But now that he knew for certain that the Jean Company was pursuing the tale, there was a possibility that he could use them in some other city to begin collecting information again.
Lawrence put his hand to the door and opened it.
What he needed to do now was protect his tiny boat from the approaching storm.
No picture could possibly have captured the look on his face in that moment.
"Something came for you," said Holo.
She held up a sheet of parchment, and Lawrence knew at a glance what it was.
It had the seal of the Rowen Trade Guild.
The red wax impression of the seal seemed, without any exaggeration, like the signature of some demon.
Though his mouth went dry, he tried desperately to swallow.
The guild had long since discovered where he was staying.
Kieman was serious.
And everything Eve said was true.
Talk was continuing over Lawrence's head.
The huge gears made a terrible grinding sound as they turned.
***
It has been a while. This is Isuna Hasekura.
Just as the title suggests, this is the first volume of a story.
As to the question of why that is, answering it would take a book in and of itself, so I can't say too much, but the major reason is that it's impossible to tell how many pages a basic plot will require.
I planned to write only what was absolutely necessary, but it kept growing and growing.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Eve Bolan, the merchant and onetime noblewoman.
Lawrence's hand unconsciously went for the knife at his belt.
"If you think I'm unarmed, you're quite mistaken." The smile disappeared from Eve's face.
She'd claimed he wasn't listening, but there was a guard with a sword standing watch outside the door. And he doubted he was some mere neighborhood ruffian.
And anyway, merchants best avoided sword fights.
Lawrence slowly pulled his hand away from the knife, gave a short bow, turned his back, and began to walk away.
Eve's words came just as he was putting his hand to the door.
"You'll regret it."
The same words Kieman had said.
Lawrence clenched his teeth and opened the door.
There in the hallway, the guard leaned against the wall, eyes closed, just as before.
He looked as he passed by and saw the sword, clasp undone, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
"Tell no one," the guard said.
Lawrence didn't nod, didn't even reply, and not because the order somehow went without saying.
He couldn't tell anyone.
He'd considered himself a full-fledged traveling merchant for many years now—long enough to know perfectly well just how small he was.
And yet he'd just glimpsed a piece of a terrifying structure.
A gamble with a truly unbelievable amount of money.
He couldn't rid himself of the thought of it.
When he opened the front door of the building, a carriage was waiting, and it had been readied for Lawrence.
"Sir, please."
On the opposite side of the driver were the three workers still cutting the hide.
And then Lawrence realized.
They were lookouts.
He accepted the proffered cloak and draped it low over his head as he climbed into the carriage.
He asked himself if he should seek Kieman's protection. Given how much of her own hand Eve had shown, Lawrence couldn't imagine that Kieman would leave him be.
Any deal in a market where the prices were unknown was best abandoned.
Lawrence was lost in contemplation, and before he knew it, he arrived at his inn's rear entrance.
Forcing the strained muscles in his face to move, he thanked the driver, entering the inn and heaving a deep sigh.
The innkeeper's face peeked in—he probably heard the door open and close—and Lawrence wordlessly returned the cloak. He must have looked terrible indeed, for the innkeeper offered him a drink, but Lawrence refused it and made straight for the room.
The best course of action would be to escape before they were sniffed out here and before Kieman turned serious.
But now that he knew for certain that the Jean Company was pursuing the tale, there was a possibility that he could use them in some other city to begin collecting information again.
Lawrence put his hand to the door and opened it.
What he needed to do now was protect his tiny boat from the approaching storm.
No picture could possibly have captured the look on his face in that moment.
"Something came for you," said Holo.
She held up a sheet of parchment, and Lawrence knew at a glance what it was.
It had the seal of the Rowen Trade Guild.
The red wax impression of the seal seemed, without any exaggeration, like the signature of some demon.
Though his mouth went dry, he tried desperately to swallow.
The guild had long since discovered where he was staying.
Kieman was serious.
And everything Eve said was true.
Talk was continuing over Lawrence's head.
The huge gears made a terrible grinding sound as they turned.
***
It has been a while. This is Isuna Hasekura.
Just as the title suggests, this is the first volume of a story.
As to the question of why that is, answering it would take a book in and of itself, so I can't say too much, but the major reason is that it's impossible to tell how many pages a basic plot will require.
I planned to write only what was absolutely necessary, but it kept growing and growing.
| Which all means that my beautiful bimonthly publication schedule did not quite happen and a bit of a gap opened up, so hopefully you all will do me the favor of waiting a bit longer.
Lawrence should be really cool in the second volume.
At least, that's what the plot says!
Incidentally, recently I ate something truly strange and now will report about it.
It was sashimi made from—I swear—the back fat of an Asiatic black bear.
The restaurant owner was an amazing hunter and had taken wild boars in Okinawa and deer in Nara, and prepared the game he took as dishes in his restaurant. Well, apparently, he was lying about the deer, but the boar was true.
So, the Asiatic black bear back fat.
According to what I'd heard in advance, it was said to be not unlike uma no tategami, or sashimi made from the tender neck meat of a horse, but when I actually tried it, it was like unsalted butter. It melted in my mouth immediately, and there was no odor at all, only a slight fatty sweetness, and lacking any actual meat, it really was just like eating butter.
There on a side street surrounded by high-rise buildings, sitting in front of the shop on folding chairs and using a small refrigerator filled with beer as a table, it really was a very rustic-seeming situation, which made things only more delicious.
Now that I've talked about it, it's made me want yakiniku for dinner, so I think I'll do that tonight.
And it looks like I've filled the page, so we'll leave it at that. I'll see you again in the next volume.
Isuna Hasekura
***
Kerube is a town divided by a river and a delta. The landowners on the north side of the river own the delta, which is an important commerce hub, but it was developed using loans made by wealthy merchants on the south side. Thus the northern landlords have been forced by the southern merchants to continue to pay large amounts of interest on their loan.
***
The Narwhal is a legendary creature, said to bestow long life and cure disease. It valuable enough to upend the delicate balance of power in Kerube.
***
Seeking more information about the wolf bones, Lawrence, Holo, and Col arrive in Kerube. With a letter of introduction from Eve, they visit the Jean Company, which is rumored to be connected with the Debau Company—but Reynolds, the owner of the Jean Company, seems to think the wolf bones are a mere superstition.
Later, in the delta marketplace, Lawrence happens upon Eve and learns of the situation between the north and south sides of Kerube. Eve has been pressed by the northern landlords into solving their territory dispute and has learned that Reynolds's business profits are being stolen by those same landlords. Concluding that Reynolds is himself still searching for the wolf bones, Lawrence goes to see Kieman, the head of the local Rowen Trade Guild branch—but having done so, he becomes torn between trusting the Guild or Eve.
Meanwhile, a legendary sea-beast is brought ashore—a narwhal. Eve contacts Lawrence and tells him of her plan to steal the narwhal away from the northern landlords. As Lawrence agonizes over what to do, he receives a letter from Kieman...
***
The human is a weak creature indeed.
It has neither fangs nor claws nor wings on which to flee.
So to protect themselves, humans must use their minds—technology, strategy, or...
Every creature, human or animal, shares a common method of self-defense.
And that is to form groups.
A single sheep is weak. But a flock of thousands need not flinch at the attack of a few wolves.
By functioning as part of that group, a single animal can find safety, surviving to leave behind descendants.
Humans are the same; they come together to live in groups, and those groups eventually came to be called villages, then cities, as they drove back the darkness of the forest.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Which all means that my beautiful bimonthly publication schedule did not quite happen and a bit of a gap opened up, so hopefully you all will do me the favor of waiting a bit longer.
Lawrence should be really cool in the second volume.
At least, that's what the plot says!
Incidentally, recently I ate something truly strange and now will report about it.
It was sashimi made from—I swear—the back fat of an Asiatic black bear.
The restaurant owner was an amazing hunter and had taken wild boars in Okinawa and deer in Nara, and prepared the game he took as dishes in his restaurant. Well, apparently, he was lying about the deer, but the boar was true.
So, the Asiatic black bear back fat.
According to what I'd heard in advance, it was said to be not unlike uma no tategami, or sashimi made from the tender neck meat of a horse, but when I actually tried it, it was like unsalted butter. It melted in my mouth immediately, and there was no odor at all, only a slight fatty sweetness, and lacking any actual meat, it really was just like eating butter.
There on a side street surrounded by high-rise buildings, sitting in front of the shop on folding chairs and using a small refrigerator filled with beer as a table, it really was a very rustic-seeming situation, which made things only more delicious.
Now that I've talked about it, it's made me want yakiniku for dinner, so I think I'll do that tonight.
And it looks like I've filled the page, so we'll leave it at that. I'll see you again in the next volume.
Isuna Hasekura
***
Kerube is a town divided by a river and a delta. The landowners on the north side of the river own the delta, which is an important commerce hub, but it was developed using loans made by wealthy merchants on the south side. Thus the northern landlords have been forced by the southern merchants to continue to pay large amounts of interest on their loan.
***
The Narwhal is a legendary creature, said to bestow long life and cure disease. It valuable enough to upend the delicate balance of power in Kerube.
***
Seeking more information about the wolf bones, Lawrence, Holo, and Col arrive in Kerube. With a letter of introduction from Eve, they visit the Jean Company, which is rumored to be connected with the Debau Company—but Reynolds, the owner of the Jean Company, seems to think the wolf bones are a mere superstition.
Later, in the delta marketplace, Lawrence happens upon Eve and learns of the situation between the north and south sides of Kerube. Eve has been pressed by the northern landlords into solving their territory dispute and has learned that Reynolds's business profits are being stolen by those same landlords. Concluding that Reynolds is himself still searching for the wolf bones, Lawrence goes to see Kieman, the head of the local Rowen Trade Guild branch—but having done so, he becomes torn between trusting the Guild or Eve.
Meanwhile, a legendary sea-beast is brought ashore—a narwhal. Eve contacts Lawrence and tells him of her plan to steal the narwhal away from the northern landlords. As Lawrence agonizes over what to do, he receives a letter from Kieman...
***
The human is a weak creature indeed.
It has neither fangs nor claws nor wings on which to flee.
So to protect themselves, humans must use their minds—technology, strategy, or...
Every creature, human or animal, shares a common method of self-defense.
And that is to form groups.
A single sheep is weak. But a flock of thousands need not flinch at the attack of a few wolves.
By functioning as part of that group, a single animal can find safety, surviving to leave behind descendants.
Humans are the same; they come together to live in groups, and those groups eventually came to be called villages, then cities, as they drove back the darkness of the forest.
| It is like a single great beast, and for a single powerless creature to receive the benefit of that beast's claws and fangs, they must think of themselves first as part of that creature rather than as a single individual.
When the beast turns right, they must turn right. When it runs left, they must run left. And when it wishes to eat fowl, a fowl they must hunt.
Even if that fowl happens to be their own beloved songbird.
The human is a weak creature indeed.
Here in this world where the gods have long remained hidden in the mists, humans cannot survive on their own.
So to protect themselves from the darkness of the forest, they become a single beast surrounded by walls of earth and stone.
Even though they know full well that having borrowed that great beast's power even once, they will never escape its yoke.
Betrayal is never tolerated.
Such is the only way to survive the storms of fate that buffet the world—by the bonds of blood and solidarity.
***
"We must leave this place," Lawrence said bluntly. "And quickly, too."
He entered the room with long strides. On the table were the coins, the puzzle of which Col had solved, and Lawrence gathered them into his coin purse as though he were making a sandpile on a beach.
The travelers' life was one of casting off needless things.
Everything they needed was already packed in a burlap bag in the room's corner, and if flight was necessary, they could simply cinch the bag up, shoulder it, and run—it was far from rare to be attacked during the night, after all.
"Come, you."
Lawrence looked up at the voice.
It was the surprised face of his traveling companion, Holo.
"What's this, then?"
In her hand was a letter written on a single piece of parchment.
Inscribed on it was a statement in curt, undecorated letters, along with a bloodred wax seal in the bottom-right corner.
It was addressed to none other than Lawrence, and the sender was the Rowen Trade Guild. For a traveling merchant like Lawrence, whose livelihood was ever uncertain, the group of comrade merchants was most encouraging.
Its seal was a powerful shield in any town and could be a powerful weapon as well.
And the guild had sent Lawrence a letter at the inn where he stayed on the north side of Kerube.
"'We seek now a brave merchant who fears neither witch nor alchemist. In consideration of both the wealth and progress of the guild, by all means, please...signed, Lud Kieman.'"
Holo read the letter's contents aloud smoothly and then looked to Lawrence curiously.
Next to Holo, their other travel companion, Col, peered at the document in her hands.
The letter was from Lud Kieman, chief trader of the Kerube branch of the Rowen Trade Guild, and its meaning was clear—there was no doubt that he was trying to get Lawrence's cooperation, just as Eve said he would.
He wanted to deliver the narwhal to Eve and to receive in return the titles for the land on the north side of the river, thereby transforming the balance of power in the town. The narwhal was a creature so valuable that it made such things possible.
But neither Kieman nor Eve could trust the other. Each of them was far too hypocritical to shake hands over a contract. They needed someone to act as a middleman, a go-between. And if possible, someone whom they could each easily control.
In the midst of heated competition over such vast profits, a merchant's life was worth no more than a single grain of wheat.
Lawrence could hear the crunch, crunch of creaking bones.
Col and Holo's lack of concern only further aggravated his nervousness. "Don't you see? This is a summons from my guild," he said by way of explanation, tying the burlap sack tightly closed.
"Your guild?" came Holo's reply, which made Lawrence stand and shake his head.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It is like a single great beast, and for a single powerless creature to receive the benefit of that beast's claws and fangs, they must think of themselves first as part of that creature rather than as a single individual.
When the beast turns right, they must turn right. When it runs left, they must run left. And when it wishes to eat fowl, a fowl they must hunt.
Even if that fowl happens to be their own beloved songbird.
The human is a weak creature indeed.
Here in this world where the gods have long remained hidden in the mists, humans cannot survive on their own.
So to protect themselves from the darkness of the forest, they become a single beast surrounded by walls of earth and stone.
Even though they know full well that having borrowed that great beast's power even once, they will never escape its yoke.
Betrayal is never tolerated.
Such is the only way to survive the storms of fate that buffet the world—by the bonds of blood and solidarity.
***
"We must leave this place," Lawrence said bluntly. "And quickly, too."
He entered the room with long strides. On the table were the coins, the puzzle of which Col had solved, and Lawrence gathered them into his coin purse as though he were making a sandpile on a beach.
The travelers' life was one of casting off needless things.
Everything they needed was already packed in a burlap bag in the room's corner, and if flight was necessary, they could simply cinch the bag up, shoulder it, and run—it was far from rare to be attacked during the night, after all.
"Come, you."
Lawrence looked up at the voice.
It was the surprised face of his traveling companion, Holo.
"What's this, then?"
In her hand was a letter written on a single piece of parchment.
Inscribed on it was a statement in curt, undecorated letters, along with a bloodred wax seal in the bottom-right corner.
It was addressed to none other than Lawrence, and the sender was the Rowen Trade Guild. For a traveling merchant like Lawrence, whose livelihood was ever uncertain, the group of comrade merchants was most encouraging.
Its seal was a powerful shield in any town and could be a powerful weapon as well.
And the guild had sent Lawrence a letter at the inn where he stayed on the north side of Kerube.
"'We seek now a brave merchant who fears neither witch nor alchemist. In consideration of both the wealth and progress of the guild, by all means, please...signed, Lud Kieman.'"
Holo read the letter's contents aloud smoothly and then looked to Lawrence curiously.
Next to Holo, their other travel companion, Col, peered at the document in her hands.
The letter was from Lud Kieman, chief trader of the Kerube branch of the Rowen Trade Guild, and its meaning was clear—there was no doubt that he was trying to get Lawrence's cooperation, just as Eve said he would.
He wanted to deliver the narwhal to Eve and to receive in return the titles for the land on the north side of the river, thereby transforming the balance of power in the town. The narwhal was a creature so valuable that it made such things possible.
But neither Kieman nor Eve could trust the other. Each of them was far too hypocritical to shake hands over a contract. They needed someone to act as a middleman, a go-between. And if possible, someone whom they could each easily control.
In the midst of heated competition over such vast profits, a merchant's life was worth no more than a single grain of wheat.
Lawrence could hear the crunch, crunch of creaking bones.
Col and Holo's lack of concern only further aggravated his nervousness. "Don't you see? This is a summons from my guild," he said by way of explanation, tying the burlap sack tightly closed.
"Your guild?" came Holo's reply, which made Lawrence stand and shake his head.
| Traders as powerless as traveling merchants can safely move from town to town only because of their guild attachments. Because the guild works tirelessly to acquire various rights and privileges in each town, its merchants could visit those towns and conduct business without worry.
But being able to dine on the fruits plucked by the guild's claws and teeth meant that when a merchant's cooperation was asked, a member could not refuse it.
Because no matter how absurd the request, the many privileges the merchant had so far enjoyed came at the cost of the hard labor of his comrades.
Yet there was a limit to how obligated one could be.
Kieman was scheming in service of his own self-interest and trying to pull Lawrence into those machinations.
He would claim it was in the interests of the guild, and as long as his preparations were thorough, Lawrence would be unable to refuse lest he be branded a traitor by the guild. And there was another reason for Lawrence to be worried—the person with whom he'd only recently conversed in another building.
If Kieman was the head of a great giant composed of an army of merchants, then his enemy was a wolf of equally impressive stature.
And that wolf had unexpectedly asked Lawrence to betray the guild.
Of course, she was waiting with the promise of dizzying profit, and indeed her proposal to Lawrence was just one part of a larger stratagem she had already set in motion.
It was all but a forgone conclusion that a single traveling merchant would easily be swept away in this crimson maelstrom of money and chance.
Between the gears of power and influence, the blood of a single human was generally of no great value.
"We must leave the city. As soon as possible. Before we no longer can."
There was still time.
Lawrence swallowed those words like a prayer. "Both of you, quickly," he added.
"Would you not calm yourself?" came Holo's cool words, pouring over the scalding fires in his mind.
Those words were like water spilling into boiling oil. Lawrence exploded in spite of himself. "I am quite calm!"
Col stood next to Holo, holding a small wine cask, and he recoiled almost audibly at the sound. Beside him, the white down on Holo's ears stirred the merest fraction.
It was blazingly obvious which of the three was the least composed in the room.
***
Lawrence put down his own load, looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
He remembered that once when he had been on the verge of bankruptcy and ruin, he had slapped Holo's hand away in anger.
He asked himself if he had learned nothing since then.
Inwardly, he cursed himself.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with a pliant male who bends like a green twig, but such a man can hardly be relied upon. A fool is so much the better for his obviousness."
Holo's tail wagged as she stroked Col's head; the boy watched the developments carefully.
"Though possessing two eyes, most creatures can see but a single thing at a time. Do you know why males and females go to such lengths to bond with each other?"
She took the wine cask from Col and pulled its cork free with her teeth. With a light gesture of her chin, she signaled for Col to take the cork from her.
Col did as he was instructed as if well acquainted with the process.
During that time, Holo's eyes remained fixed on Lawrence. "I'm sure your common sense has led you to some sort of clear conclusion."
Lawrence didn't have to ask what Holo would have added to that statement.
The two of them, Holo and Col, sat side by side and regarded him. The pair looked somehow fragile in that moment, which made Lawrence feel like a villain.
"Hmph. From twixt stalks of wheat, I once often witnessed such ill manners in the village."
Lawrence knew what Holo was trying to say.
Col seemed to catch up a bit later, and when he looked away uneasily, Holo elbowed him, as if to say, "Spit it out."
"...My father...was often like this."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Traders as powerless as traveling merchants can safely move from town to town only because of their guild attachments. Because the guild works tirelessly to acquire various rights and privileges in each town, its merchants could visit those towns and conduct business without worry.
But being able to dine on the fruits plucked by the guild's claws and teeth meant that when a merchant's cooperation was asked, a member could not refuse it.
Because no matter how absurd the request, the many privileges the merchant had so far enjoyed came at the cost of the hard labor of his comrades.
Yet there was a limit to how obligated one could be.
Kieman was scheming in service of his own self-interest and trying to pull Lawrence into those machinations.
He would claim it was in the interests of the guild, and as long as his preparations were thorough, Lawrence would be unable to refuse lest he be branded a traitor by the guild. And there was another reason for Lawrence to be worried—the person with whom he'd only recently conversed in another building.
If Kieman was the head of a great giant composed of an army of merchants, then his enemy was a wolf of equally impressive stature.
And that wolf had unexpectedly asked Lawrence to betray the guild.
Of course, she was waiting with the promise of dizzying profit, and indeed her proposal to Lawrence was just one part of a larger stratagem she had already set in motion.
It was all but a forgone conclusion that a single traveling merchant would easily be swept away in this crimson maelstrom of money and chance.
Between the gears of power and influence, the blood of a single human was generally of no great value.
"We must leave the city. As soon as possible. Before we no longer can."
There was still time.
Lawrence swallowed those words like a prayer. "Both of you, quickly," he added.
"Would you not calm yourself?" came Holo's cool words, pouring over the scalding fires in his mind.
Those words were like water spilling into boiling oil. Lawrence exploded in spite of himself. "I am quite calm!"
Col stood next to Holo, holding a small wine cask, and he recoiled almost audibly at the sound. Beside him, the white down on Holo's ears stirred the merest fraction.
It was blazingly obvious which of the three was the least composed in the room.
***
Lawrence put down his own load, looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
He remembered that once when he had been on the verge of bankruptcy and ruin, he had slapped Holo's hand away in anger.
He asked himself if he had learned nothing since then.
Inwardly, he cursed himself.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with a pliant male who bends like a green twig, but such a man can hardly be relied upon. A fool is so much the better for his obviousness."
Holo's tail wagged as she stroked Col's head; the boy watched the developments carefully.
"Though possessing two eyes, most creatures can see but a single thing at a time. Do you know why males and females go to such lengths to bond with each other?"
She took the wine cask from Col and pulled its cork free with her teeth. With a light gesture of her chin, she signaled for Col to take the cork from her.
Col did as he was instructed as if well acquainted with the process.
During that time, Holo's eyes remained fixed on Lawrence. "I'm sure your common sense has led you to some sort of clear conclusion."
Lawrence didn't have to ask what Holo would have added to that statement.
The two of them, Holo and Col, sat side by side and regarded him. The pair looked somehow fragile in that moment, which made Lawrence feel like a villain.
"Hmph. From twixt stalks of wheat, I once often witnessed such ill manners in the village."
Lawrence knew what Holo was trying to say.
Col seemed to catch up a bit later, and when he looked away uneasily, Holo elbowed him, as if to say, "Spit it out."
"...My father...was often like this."
| "Save your apologies. I want not answers. What I ask for is an explanation. We are not your followers. We've no obligation to do as you tell us. Do I not speak the truth?"
She admonished him without anger, and her statement was effective because it was correct.
The two were not the innocent, helpless people they appeared to be.
They were each independent beings, perfectly capable of conceiving and carrying out their own plans.
To arbitrarily decide what to do right in front of them was itself a sort of betrayal.
"So then, what happened?" asked Holo, wearing a trace of a smile.
Despite having castigated him for his narrow vision, she seemed to acknowledge that he must have his reasons.
And stubbornness was not a merchant's way.
Lawrence shook his head—not to deny her words, but rather to clear his own mind.
He recalled the exchange in which he had engaged earlier.
"Eve invited me to act as her spy."
"Oh ho," said Holo briefly, putting the wine to her lips. She meant for him to continue.
"And the sender of that letter, Kieman, wants me to act as his spy as well."
"So you're trapped, then."
Lawrence nodded and continued on to the subject that was the root of the trouble.
"The reason for all of this is because the south side has captured a fishing boat from the north. That's all it will take to spark the conflict between the poor north and the wealthy southern sides. The southerners resorted to this because they wanted the valuable catch of the northerner's boat. Eve has been charged with returning the prize to the north, but the one who gave her the order is not doing so out of loyalty to the north, but rather for his own profit. And Eve is merely pretending to go along with this; she plans to betray the north and has asked me to help."
The matter wouldn't be settled with mere hundreds of lumione.
And yet she was perfectly willing to conduct this deal, the value of which extended into thousands of gold coins.
"Quite a female," declared Holo with an irritated smirk. Col seemed to be afraid of making a conversational misstep, so he stared off into space.
"But since Eve declared her intention to betray the north, it's likely she's willing to betray anyone, is it not?"
Theoretically, two negatives equaled a positive, and the enemy of one's enemy was an ally. But only Eve knew whether her betrayal upon betrayal would work to her profit in the end.
"'Tis a bog of doubt, then, aye. When even your own pack is trying to use you to their own ends, I suppose 'tis no surprise your face is white with worry."
Holo took a swig from the wine cask and burped.
That she could say such things and drink wine as she did so was infuriating, but Lawrence only painted on a pained smile.
Besides, as the saying went, knights who survived the battlefield were ever smiling, and merchants were no different.
"Is there any solution that satisfies all parties?"
"Since Eve isn't truly working for the north, it shouldn't matter to her where her profit comes from. Which means she shouldn't mind receiving her share from the Rowen Trade Guild. It's possible that both Eve and the guild could profit. So as long as she doesn't decide to betray both me and the guild in order to take everything for herself, that could work."
"Hmm."
"Alternatively, I could act in favor of the guild's profit and try to exclude Eve entirely."
"Mmm...So we must either throw ourselves on the mercy of a villain or be blindly optimistic, eh?"
Otherwise, Lawrence would not be in this position—such was the logical conclusion.
Lawrence nodded and put his hands on the table.
"But this is all guesswork based on what I've been able to learn. In such a vast operation, there is too much I don't know. If I get involved, I can't help but be a pawn for those above me."
If Lawrence could plumb the depths of these schemes, he could turn them to his profit. But to do that, he had to understand exactly where those depths lay.
"So you're left with discretion being the better part of valor, eh?" said Holo.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Save your apologies. I want not answers. What I ask for is an explanation. We are not your followers. We've no obligation to do as you tell us. Do I not speak the truth?"
She admonished him without anger, and her statement was effective because it was correct.
The two were not the innocent, helpless people they appeared to be.
They were each independent beings, perfectly capable of conceiving and carrying out their own plans.
To arbitrarily decide what to do right in front of them was itself a sort of betrayal.
"So then, what happened?" asked Holo, wearing a trace of a smile.
Despite having castigated him for his narrow vision, she seemed to acknowledge that he must have his reasons.
And stubbornness was not a merchant's way.
Lawrence shook his head—not to deny her words, but rather to clear his own mind.
He recalled the exchange in which he had engaged earlier.
"Eve invited me to act as her spy."
"Oh ho," said Holo briefly, putting the wine to her lips. She meant for him to continue.
"And the sender of that letter, Kieman, wants me to act as his spy as well."
"So you're trapped, then."
Lawrence nodded and continued on to the subject that was the root of the trouble.
"The reason for all of this is because the south side has captured a fishing boat from the north. That's all it will take to spark the conflict between the poor north and the wealthy southern sides. The southerners resorted to this because they wanted the valuable catch of the northerner's boat. Eve has been charged with returning the prize to the north, but the one who gave her the order is not doing so out of loyalty to the north, but rather for his own profit. And Eve is merely pretending to go along with this; she plans to betray the north and has asked me to help."
The matter wouldn't be settled with mere hundreds of lumione.
And yet she was perfectly willing to conduct this deal, the value of which extended into thousands of gold coins.
"Quite a female," declared Holo with an irritated smirk. Col seemed to be afraid of making a conversational misstep, so he stared off into space.
"But since Eve declared her intention to betray the north, it's likely she's willing to betray anyone, is it not?"
Theoretically, two negatives equaled a positive, and the enemy of one's enemy was an ally. But only Eve knew whether her betrayal upon betrayal would work to her profit in the end.
"'Tis a bog of doubt, then, aye. When even your own pack is trying to use you to their own ends, I suppose 'tis no surprise your face is white with worry."
Holo took a swig from the wine cask and burped.
That she could say such things and drink wine as she did so was infuriating, but Lawrence only painted on a pained smile.
Besides, as the saying went, knights who survived the battlefield were ever smiling, and merchants were no different.
"Is there any solution that satisfies all parties?"
"Since Eve isn't truly working for the north, it shouldn't matter to her where her profit comes from. Which means she shouldn't mind receiving her share from the Rowen Trade Guild. It's possible that both Eve and the guild could profit. So as long as she doesn't decide to betray both me and the guild in order to take everything for herself, that could work."
"Hmm."
"Alternatively, I could act in favor of the guild's profit and try to exclude Eve entirely."
"Mmm...So we must either throw ourselves on the mercy of a villain or be blindly optimistic, eh?"
Otherwise, Lawrence would not be in this position—such was the logical conclusion.
Lawrence nodded and put his hands on the table.
"But this is all guesswork based on what I've been able to learn. In such a vast operation, there is too much I don't know. If I get involved, I can't help but be a pawn for those above me."
If Lawrence could plumb the depths of these schemes, he could turn them to his profit. But to do that, he had to understand exactly where those depths lay.
"So you're left with discretion being the better part of valor, eh?" said Holo.
| As a lonely wandering merchant, how many times had the seal on that letter come to his aid? It was a magical emblem, both a powerful weapon and a sturdy shield.
He'd never doubted its might.
Which was why—now that its power was turned against him—he could see no alternative but escape.
"So that vixen and your pack are fighting over the same prize, then? What might that be?"
"Huh? Oh yes. It's what you say you saw on the south side."
"Surely not the bones?"
Lawrence and his party had come to the seaside town of Kerube, far from Holo's homelands of Yoitsu, in search of a certain item—the bones of what was said to be a wolf-god worshipped in the mountains of Roef.
Holo had discovered the possibility that the bones would be used in an unforgivable manner by the Church, while Col wanted to learn the truth of his homeland's god.
Holo's tone was thus amused when she asked the question, but her eyes were not smiling.
The object in question was not so very far from the wolf bones as goods went, which was why the powers that be were in such a frenzy to acquire it.
"Something similar. A beast from the northern seas—a magical creature with a single horn. Eating its flesh grants long life, and a tincture of its horn cures disease. It's called a narwhal. Evidently one of the north side's fishing boats hauled one up in its nets."
Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak as though his words were a pleasant side dish to go with her wine, but suddenly her ear twitched.
"What's wrong?"
"...'Tis nothing."
The lie was so obvious it wasn't even worth laughing at.
"Still—"
"Yes?"
"You're certain that all this talk centers around that, aye?"
"Yes."
"In which case, you yet have choices you can make. Isn't that so?" Holo, amused, directed this last question to Col.
While Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak, Col watched the pair's exchange from the outside.
He was the obvious person to identify a third option.
"Er, ah, um..."
"Come now, be bold!"
Holo slapped his back, and Col finally summoned the courage to speak.
"E-er, couldn't Miss Holo simply...go and take the narwhal...?"
"...Huh?" was all Lawrence could manage in the face of Col's words.
The thought simply hadn't occurred to him.
"If there's a fight over some object, then the conflict hinges on the item itself. I'm sure Miss Holo can traverse the river in a single bound, so she should be able to steal it easily."
Col was, after all, from the deep mountains.
He spoke these flattering words with total sincerity, and Holo's ears twitched happily.
It was probably true that stealing the narwhal was in and of itself not a difficult thing for Holo.
No matter how well guarded it might be, in the face of the fangs of Holo's true form, the guards' armor would scarcely be more than the paper armor in which children clad themselves for playacting. Despite all the plotting and planning of Eve, Kieman, and the other monstrous powers at play, it would be no great trouble for her to take the thing and run.
Lawrence scratched his head and spoke. "Look here, even if we do that, the question becomes what to do next. Even if the theft were simple, you would certainly be witnessed. At which point, the idea that anyone would then buy the narwhal from us is completely absurd. That much is—"
"I'm well aware of that. But"—Holo interrupted, her eyes narrowing with her smile and her head cocking to one side—"you must have seen how simple this all truly is. Have you not?"
"...Huh?"
"You haven't, then? The matter that has you so terrified you can think only of escape, I will tear open with my fangs and claws. To have my companion in such a dither over this is quite a problem. So much more the fool me for choosing you as such, I suppose."
***
Lawrence looked back at Holo; he was at a loss for words.
He had to admit she was right.
When it came to deception in the service of profit, Holo was capable of brazen cunning that would cause even the most jaded town merchant to grow dizzy.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | As a lonely wandering merchant, how many times had the seal on that letter come to his aid? It was a magical emblem, both a powerful weapon and a sturdy shield.
He'd never doubted its might.
Which was why—now that its power was turned against him—he could see no alternative but escape.
"So that vixen and your pack are fighting over the same prize, then? What might that be?"
"Huh? Oh yes. It's what you say you saw on the south side."
"Surely not the bones?"
Lawrence and his party had come to the seaside town of Kerube, far from Holo's homelands of Yoitsu, in search of a certain item—the bones of what was said to be a wolf-god worshipped in the mountains of Roef.
Holo had discovered the possibility that the bones would be used in an unforgivable manner by the Church, while Col wanted to learn the truth of his homeland's god.
Holo's tone was thus amused when she asked the question, but her eyes were not smiling.
The object in question was not so very far from the wolf bones as goods went, which was why the powers that be were in such a frenzy to acquire it.
"Something similar. A beast from the northern seas—a magical creature with a single horn. Eating its flesh grants long life, and a tincture of its horn cures disease. It's called a narwhal. Evidently one of the north side's fishing boats hauled one up in its nets."
Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak as though his words were a pleasant side dish to go with her wine, but suddenly her ear twitched.
"What's wrong?"
"...'Tis nothing."
The lie was so obvious it wasn't even worth laughing at.
"Still—"
"Yes?"
"You're certain that all this talk centers around that, aye?"
"Yes."
"In which case, you yet have choices you can make. Isn't that so?" Holo, amused, directed this last question to Col.
While Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak, Col watched the pair's exchange from the outside.
He was the obvious person to identify a third option.
"Er, ah, um..."
"Come now, be bold!"
Holo slapped his back, and Col finally summoned the courage to speak.
"E-er, couldn't Miss Holo simply...go and take the narwhal...?"
"...Huh?" was all Lawrence could manage in the face of Col's words.
The thought simply hadn't occurred to him.
"If there's a fight over some object, then the conflict hinges on the item itself. I'm sure Miss Holo can traverse the river in a single bound, so she should be able to steal it easily."
Col was, after all, from the deep mountains.
He spoke these flattering words with total sincerity, and Holo's ears twitched happily.
It was probably true that stealing the narwhal was in and of itself not a difficult thing for Holo.
No matter how well guarded it might be, in the face of the fangs of Holo's true form, the guards' armor would scarcely be more than the paper armor in which children clad themselves for playacting. Despite all the plotting and planning of Eve, Kieman, and the other monstrous powers at play, it would be no great trouble for her to take the thing and run.
Lawrence scratched his head and spoke. "Look here, even if we do that, the question becomes what to do next. Even if the theft were simple, you would certainly be witnessed. At which point, the idea that anyone would then buy the narwhal from us is completely absurd. That much is—"
"I'm well aware of that. But"—Holo interrupted, her eyes narrowing with her smile and her head cocking to one side—"you must have seen how simple this all truly is. Have you not?"
"...Huh?"
"You haven't, then? The matter that has you so terrified you can think only of escape, I will tear open with my fangs and claws. To have my companion in such a dither over this is quite a problem. So much more the fool me for choosing you as such, I suppose."
***
Lawrence looked back at Holo; he was at a loss for words.
He had to admit she was right.
When it came to deception in the service of profit, Holo was capable of brazen cunning that would cause even the most jaded town merchant to grow dizzy.
| "Heh-heh-heh. You see, Col, my boy? This is what comes of letting a tempest in a teacup get the better of one."
Col, of course, looked abashed out of consideration for Lawrence, who would have preferred the boy to simply laugh at him.
Col regarded Lawrence with an almost girlish gaze on his upturned face, which Lawrence smiled at nervously. The boy returned the smile in evident relief.
The blood drained back out of his face, and Lawrence's cramped field of view seemed to expand.
"Always have your weapons at the ready," his master had once told him.
And next to him stood Holo, the Wisewolf of the forest of Yoitsu. There was a certain august dignity to her tail-swishing, wine-swilling form.
"Also, if you escape this current predicament, will it not be easier to find out more about the bones?"
"...Eve knows that, too. She told me that if I would cooperate with her, she would hand over what she knows about the bones. In other words, she's saying she wouldn't mind finding out what Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company supposedly knows."
Holo raised a single eyebrow, though whether the expression was one of anger or amusement was unclear. "Hmph. The vixen is cooler headed than you are. Listen here—is our search for the bones so very different from the trouble you seem to have found yourself mixed up in now?"
Lawrence found himself speechless at the analogy.
Holo, of course, did not hold back. "When we began our pursuit of the bones, you warned me of this. But now you flinch away at the prospect of a similar challenge? At this rate..." The force drained from her angry face, and she looked away. "...I will begin to doubt your words."
These last words were spoken sadly, and she glanced up at the merchant briefly.
Lawrence knew he was being provoked. But it was only Holo's way of trying to motivate him.
"Did you not tell me you were that rare male good for more than talk?" she now inquired teasingly, her head tilted.
She beamed at Lawrence's sour face.
Pointless inflexibility was of no use in business, but that didn't mean he could always be perfectly rational.
Lawrence grumbled, his gaze downcast. "I suppose we can take escape out of the discussion."
"Aye. So now you can relax those shoulders of yours."
"Because you'll be here should the worst happen?"
If that was what it took to discover the truth behind the wolf bones, Holo would unsheathe her teeth and claws without a thought. But that was far from an ideal solution as far as Lawrence was concerned.
In response to his question, Holo shook her head and replied with a calm smile. "No, because you've no need to worry over who to sell this sea beast to once it's between my jaws. Just as the boy Col said, if the pups begin fighting over it, I should think the easiest solution would be for me to simply eat it."
"...I suppose it's not surprising I didn't think of that myself."
"That merely proves how little you were considering me," Holo replied. Standing between them, Col's gaze flicked back and forth from one to the other.
"Obviously," Lawrence shot back, which made Col look suddenly a bit worried.
Lawrence had to admit that from the outside, it must have appeared as though they were bickering. But Col soon seemed to understand otherwise. In contrast to her expression, Holo's tail was wagging.
"Hmph. You say such things, and yet how many times have you needed my aid? There's no great difference between the third and fourth time."
As much as he could, Lawrence wanted to avoid relying on Holo. Yet in spite of what he might say, she had delivered him from danger many times.
So while it might have seemed as though consequences were the only thing that mattered, lately Lawrence had began to suspect otherwise.
Which was why even as he admitted his reliance on her power, Lawrence faced those ears that could detect any lie and spoke.
"You are indeed the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, but that's not why I chose you as my traveling companion."
Holo ducked her head and giggled.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Heh-heh-heh. You see, Col, my boy? This is what comes of letting a tempest in a teacup get the better of one."
Col, of course, looked abashed out of consideration for Lawrence, who would have preferred the boy to simply laugh at him.
Col regarded Lawrence with an almost girlish gaze on his upturned face, which Lawrence smiled at nervously. The boy returned the smile in evident relief.
The blood drained back out of his face, and Lawrence's cramped field of view seemed to expand.
"Always have your weapons at the ready," his master had once told him.
And next to him stood Holo, the Wisewolf of the forest of Yoitsu. There was a certain august dignity to her tail-swishing, wine-swilling form.
"Also, if you escape this current predicament, will it not be easier to find out more about the bones?"
"...Eve knows that, too. She told me that if I would cooperate with her, she would hand over what she knows about the bones. In other words, she's saying she wouldn't mind finding out what Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company supposedly knows."
Holo raised a single eyebrow, though whether the expression was one of anger or amusement was unclear. "Hmph. The vixen is cooler headed than you are. Listen here—is our search for the bones so very different from the trouble you seem to have found yourself mixed up in now?"
Lawrence found himself speechless at the analogy.
Holo, of course, did not hold back. "When we began our pursuit of the bones, you warned me of this. But now you flinch away at the prospect of a similar challenge? At this rate..." The force drained from her angry face, and she looked away. "...I will begin to doubt your words."
These last words were spoken sadly, and she glanced up at the merchant briefly.
Lawrence knew he was being provoked. But it was only Holo's way of trying to motivate him.
"Did you not tell me you were that rare male good for more than talk?" she now inquired teasingly, her head tilted.
She beamed at Lawrence's sour face.
Pointless inflexibility was of no use in business, but that didn't mean he could always be perfectly rational.
Lawrence grumbled, his gaze downcast. "I suppose we can take escape out of the discussion."
"Aye. So now you can relax those shoulders of yours."
"Because you'll be here should the worst happen?"
If that was what it took to discover the truth behind the wolf bones, Holo would unsheathe her teeth and claws without a thought. But that was far from an ideal solution as far as Lawrence was concerned.
In response to his question, Holo shook her head and replied with a calm smile. "No, because you've no need to worry over who to sell this sea beast to once it's between my jaws. Just as the boy Col said, if the pups begin fighting over it, I should think the easiest solution would be for me to simply eat it."
"...I suppose it's not surprising I didn't think of that myself."
"That merely proves how little you were considering me," Holo replied. Standing between them, Col's gaze flicked back and forth from one to the other.
"Obviously," Lawrence shot back, which made Col look suddenly a bit worried.
Lawrence had to admit that from the outside, it must have appeared as though they were bickering. But Col soon seemed to understand otherwise. In contrast to her expression, Holo's tail was wagging.
"Hmph. You say such things, and yet how many times have you needed my aid? There's no great difference between the third and fourth time."
As much as he could, Lawrence wanted to avoid relying on Holo. Yet in spite of what he might say, she had delivered him from danger many times.
So while it might have seemed as though consequences were the only thing that mattered, lately Lawrence had began to suspect otherwise.
Which was why even as he admitted his reliance on her power, Lawrence faced those ears that could detect any lie and spoke.
"You are indeed the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, but that's not why I chose you as my traveling companion."
Holo ducked her head and giggled.
| "So you'll show me such cleverness as to impress even a wisewolf, then?"
"Of course," responded Lawrence shortly. "Of course."
Had he been alone, he would have fled—or let himself be used.
But there was a reason why a smile crept into a corner of Lawrence's mouth.
Truly? Was it truly wise to stand and face this mad situation?
He could not help but inwardly put the question to himself.
The inn at which the three were staying was one to which Eve had originally introduced them, and Kieman now knew its whereabouts as well. Thus, having decided not to flee the city, the only thing Lawrence could do was wait to be contacted.
If he were noticed attempting to collect information on his own, either by Kieman or Eve, it would not leave a very favorable impression.
Given that Lawrence's opponents held the advantage in both information and power, the only strategy available to him was to watch their movements and try to outwit them after the fact.
Intellectually, he was well aware of this, so he also knew that Holo's tactic of dozing on the bed with her tail flicking lazily to and fro was much better than his own, which involved sitting on a chair as his leg bounced restlessly.
Nevertheless, he sat on that chair by the window and gazed outside, unable to calm himself.
In this season, the cloudy skies darkened even the brightest of moods—all the more so when one was already gloomy.
Lawrence knew full well how small he was in the face of the schemes and greed of Eve and of Kieman. All he could do was sigh.
Holo had compelled him to stay in town rather than run, but having made the decision, he felt no better about it.
This was no one-on-one negotiation between merchants; this was a battle of many against many.
Never get involved with a business you don't understand, his master had taught him, and yet here Lawrence was, breaking that very rule. He sighed again and surveyed their room in the inn.
There on the bed, Holo lay sleeping, having lost her battle with the demon slumber.
Col sat on the floor beside the bed, attending to his belt after having removed it from his waist. A short while earlier, he had borrowed a needle from the innkeeper, and Lawrence had assumed he intended to repair his belt, but it seemed the opposite was true.
Col pulled threads from his belt and tied them together to form a single long thread. He then threaded the needle with the result. Finally, he removed his shabby, beat-up coat, whereupon Lawrence finally understood his aim.
Lawrence stood and walked over to him. "If you're going to resort to that, soon you won't have any belt left at all."
Col had begun stitching away with the improvised thread, the needle moving adroitly through the fabric. The boy was practiced at this.
At Lawrence's words, Col looked up with an abashed smile but without ceasing his repairs.
The thread was quite short, so the mending was quickly finished.
From the perspective of a merchant who made his living by judging the quality of goods, such mending amounted to little more than a prayer to God.
"I'll buy you some thread, at the very least."
"Huh? No...I'm quite all right. See?" Col bit off the end of the thread and then held the coat up proudly.
Had Holo been watching, she probably would have smacked his head lightly and wagged her tail.
But Lawrence was not Holo, and so he simply put his hand on the boy's head. "I have yet to pay you back for explaining the mystery of the copper coins to me. Church scholars are paid for their lectures, are they not?"
Col seemed to want to reply, but appearing to weigh Lawrence's goodwill against his own modesty, he must have concluded that accepting the goodwill was the better choice.
He smiled sheepishly. "Would it really be all right?"
"Naturally. Shall we find a tailor and buy some thread? Wouldn't it be better to be able to do your mending sooner rather than later?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "So you'll show me such cleverness as to impress even a wisewolf, then?"
"Of course," responded Lawrence shortly. "Of course."
Had he been alone, he would have fled—or let himself be used.
But there was a reason why a smile crept into a corner of Lawrence's mouth.
Truly? Was it truly wise to stand and face this mad situation?
He could not help but inwardly put the question to himself.
The inn at which the three were staying was one to which Eve had originally introduced them, and Kieman now knew its whereabouts as well. Thus, having decided not to flee the city, the only thing Lawrence could do was wait to be contacted.
If he were noticed attempting to collect information on his own, either by Kieman or Eve, it would not leave a very favorable impression.
Given that Lawrence's opponents held the advantage in both information and power, the only strategy available to him was to watch their movements and try to outwit them after the fact.
Intellectually, he was well aware of this, so he also knew that Holo's tactic of dozing on the bed with her tail flicking lazily to and fro was much better than his own, which involved sitting on a chair as his leg bounced restlessly.
Nevertheless, he sat on that chair by the window and gazed outside, unable to calm himself.
In this season, the cloudy skies darkened even the brightest of moods—all the more so when one was already gloomy.
Lawrence knew full well how small he was in the face of the schemes and greed of Eve and of Kieman. All he could do was sigh.
Holo had compelled him to stay in town rather than run, but having made the decision, he felt no better about it.
This was no one-on-one negotiation between merchants; this was a battle of many against many.
Never get involved with a business you don't understand, his master had taught him, and yet here Lawrence was, breaking that very rule. He sighed again and surveyed their room in the inn.
There on the bed, Holo lay sleeping, having lost her battle with the demon slumber.
Col sat on the floor beside the bed, attending to his belt after having removed it from his waist. A short while earlier, he had borrowed a needle from the innkeeper, and Lawrence had assumed he intended to repair his belt, but it seemed the opposite was true.
Col pulled threads from his belt and tied them together to form a single long thread. He then threaded the needle with the result. Finally, he removed his shabby, beat-up coat, whereupon Lawrence finally understood his aim.
Lawrence stood and walked over to him. "If you're going to resort to that, soon you won't have any belt left at all."
Col had begun stitching away with the improvised thread, the needle moving adroitly through the fabric. The boy was practiced at this.
At Lawrence's words, Col looked up with an abashed smile but without ceasing his repairs.
The thread was quite short, so the mending was quickly finished.
From the perspective of a merchant who made his living by judging the quality of goods, such mending amounted to little more than a prayer to God.
"I'll buy you some thread, at the very least."
"Huh? No...I'm quite all right. See?" Col bit off the end of the thread and then held the coat up proudly.
Had Holo been watching, she probably would have smacked his head lightly and wagged her tail.
But Lawrence was not Holo, and so he simply put his hand on the boy's head. "I have yet to pay you back for explaining the mystery of the copper coins to me. Church scholars are paid for their lectures, are they not?"
Col seemed to want to reply, but appearing to weigh Lawrence's goodwill against his own modesty, he must have concluded that accepting the goodwill was the better choice.
He smiled sheepishly. "Would it really be all right?"
"Naturally. Shall we find a tailor and buy some thread? Wouldn't it be better to be able to do your mending sooner rather than later?"
| The boy had summoned the courage to leave his village. Was the coat he had been given to mark the occasion truly worth so little?
It would hardly feel good to be told that the item that held so many memories was worth less than the thread it took to repair it.
"Well, then, thank you!" said Col happily, hurrying to shrug the coat back over his shoulders.
Lawrence thought to invite Holo along as well, but with her having just fallen asleep, even pinching her nose closed would not wake her, so he and Col left as a pair. Besides, if Kieman or Eve came calling, it would be better if there was someone in the room.
"So, which thread would you like?"
Having asked the innkeeper where to find a tailor, the two found the place with no trouble.
It seemed that only certain parts of the town had been thrown into chaos by the narwhal.
Power was power because it could not be shared; most people were not concerned about large-scale land ownership or town-wide reputation—such matters were as far above their heads as the moon.
Before meeting Holo, Lawrence himself had been one such moon gazer. Despite all the adventures he had been through with Holo, this quiet life was where he felt most at home.
The tailor shop at which they arrived had shutters open to a makeshift table upon which were arranged clothes, as well as thread and scrap cloth for patching.
The bored-looking boy minding the shop held his chin in hands that were dyed a dark color, probably owing to the fabric dyes he worked with.
He straightened and smiled as soon as he noticed Lawrence and Col, and seeing this, Lawrence returned the smile.
This world felt very familiar.
"So, the price varies with the color, but what do you think you'd like?" asked Lawrence.
"Hmm...since this is my coat's color, I suppose..."
The shopkeeper spoke up as Col looked down at his coat. "A nice pale yellow shouldn't stand out."
Yellow-dyed goods were a luxury item, and the side of the shop boy's smile made it clear just how true that was.
The boy seemed to be a year or two younger than Col but was probably a far tougher negotiator. Craftsmen's apprentices were often beaten and kicked. They were toughened up in a way Col had not been.
"Er, but can't yellow be quite..." Col seemed to understand that dye color affected price and hastily met Lawrence's gaze, but of course, the shop boy would hardly admit that openly.
"Ah, you must be the master of a great shop somewhere!" he said, brushing aside Col's words and leaning over the table. No doubt his own pay was based on the value of the goods he sold.
"It's a shame we didn't wear our finest out today," said Lawrence in response to the boy's merchant spirit.
The boy straightened his collar and puffed out his chest, leaving Col still silent. "Yes, yes, I quite take your meaning! Please do have a look at this here," said the boy, producing a sample of thread.
The thread in the boy's hand was no longer than his palm, but if it happened to blow away in the breeze, he would probably lose three days' rations to make up for it.
The yellow dye came from across the seven seas, from a flower called saffron whose blossoms flowed down the river that led to an earthly paradise. Its rich golden hue called to mind gold itself.
Dye of any kind was an expense, and the sole purpose of fine clothing was to flatter the wearer's pride. Since the wealthy bought such products without a thought, the price rose and rose.
In any case, Col seemed to have deduced where the conversation was heading and grabbed Lawrence's sleeve hastily.
"M-Mr. Lawrence—"
"Hmm?" Lawrence smiled and turned back as the young apprentice raised his voice in an effort to hold on to his customer.
"Good sir! Good sir, look, take a good look at this fine golden color! So pure a gold that even gold itself looks shabby beside it! This is my master's finest product. What say you, hmm?"
Lawrence nodded dutifully at the young salesman's urging.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The boy had summoned the courage to leave his village. Was the coat he had been given to mark the occasion truly worth so little?
It would hardly feel good to be told that the item that held so many memories was worth less than the thread it took to repair it.
"Well, then, thank you!" said Col happily, hurrying to shrug the coat back over his shoulders.
Lawrence thought to invite Holo along as well, but with her having just fallen asleep, even pinching her nose closed would not wake her, so he and Col left as a pair. Besides, if Kieman or Eve came calling, it would be better if there was someone in the room.
"So, which thread would you like?"
Having asked the innkeeper where to find a tailor, the two found the place with no trouble.
It seemed that only certain parts of the town had been thrown into chaos by the narwhal.
Power was power because it could not be shared; most people were not concerned about large-scale land ownership or town-wide reputation—such matters were as far above their heads as the moon.
Before meeting Holo, Lawrence himself had been one such moon gazer. Despite all the adventures he had been through with Holo, this quiet life was where he felt most at home.
The tailor shop at which they arrived had shutters open to a makeshift table upon which were arranged clothes, as well as thread and scrap cloth for patching.
The bored-looking boy minding the shop held his chin in hands that were dyed a dark color, probably owing to the fabric dyes he worked with.
He straightened and smiled as soon as he noticed Lawrence and Col, and seeing this, Lawrence returned the smile.
This world felt very familiar.
"So, the price varies with the color, but what do you think you'd like?" asked Lawrence.
"Hmm...since this is my coat's color, I suppose..."
The shopkeeper spoke up as Col looked down at his coat. "A nice pale yellow shouldn't stand out."
Yellow-dyed goods were a luxury item, and the side of the shop boy's smile made it clear just how true that was.
The boy seemed to be a year or two younger than Col but was probably a far tougher negotiator. Craftsmen's apprentices were often beaten and kicked. They were toughened up in a way Col had not been.
"Er, but can't yellow be quite..." Col seemed to understand that dye color affected price and hastily met Lawrence's gaze, but of course, the shop boy would hardly admit that openly.
"Ah, you must be the master of a great shop somewhere!" he said, brushing aside Col's words and leaning over the table. No doubt his own pay was based on the value of the goods he sold.
"It's a shame we didn't wear our finest out today," said Lawrence in response to the boy's merchant spirit.
The boy straightened his collar and puffed out his chest, leaving Col still silent. "Yes, yes, I quite take your meaning! Please do have a look at this here," said the boy, producing a sample of thread.
The thread in the boy's hand was no longer than his palm, but if it happened to blow away in the breeze, he would probably lose three days' rations to make up for it.
The yellow dye came from across the seven seas, from a flower called saffron whose blossoms flowed down the river that led to an earthly paradise. Its rich golden hue called to mind gold itself.
Dye of any kind was an expense, and the sole purpose of fine clothing was to flatter the wearer's pride. Since the wealthy bought such products without a thought, the price rose and rose.
In any case, Col seemed to have deduced where the conversation was heading and grabbed Lawrence's sleeve hastily.
"M-Mr. Lawrence—"
"Hmm?" Lawrence smiled and turned back as the young apprentice raised his voice in an effort to hold on to his customer.
"Good sir! Good sir, look, take a good look at this fine golden color! So pure a gold that even gold itself looks shabby beside it! This is my master's finest product. What say you, hmm?"
Lawrence nodded dutifully at the young salesman's urging.
| He seemed to be evaluating the boy's technique more than he was watching to see whether the thread sold or not.
Lawrence looked at the master, who seemed to notice him, and the two men shared a glance. The man gave a voiceless smile and raised his hand in greeting.
Lawrence replied with a nod and then turned his attention back to the boy. "It is indeed a fine gold. Bright as any metal."
"Is it not? So, if you please—"
"Still, wouldn't such fine thread be wasted on such a coat? If it's so bright as to cause even true gold to fade by comparison, won't it cause the seams to stand out?
In that instant, the boy's desperate business smile froze.
Behind the boy, Lawrence heard the master sigh helplessly.
"To make sure the seams aren't too visible, we'll take your cheapest gray thread."
Perhaps visions of the commission he had hoped to make from selling the golden thread had been dancing in his head, for the boy was at a loss for a reply. Behind him, the master stood and approached. "What length will you be needing?"
The man knocked the boy on the head with a rough hand worthy of a craftsman.
If he could not stand up to a clever merchant, he would never be able to sell his wares for a good price, no matter how skillfully they were made. The master seemed to be trying to teach his apprentice this lesson.
"How much could I get for three silver lute?"
"Indeed...in that frayed state, maybe enough to do five seams like it? And while you're at it, how about taking some of this blue thread off my hands? The dye's been coming off the boats like mad these days, so there's quite a lot."
"You should buy it while it's cheap, then, and sell it when the price rises."
The man smiled as though knowing it had been futile from the beginning. "Three lute worth, then," he said, taking down a spool of the gray thread.
Their shopping concluded, Lawrence and Col returned to the inn. They walked alongside the river and gazed at the town, Col following two steps behind Lawrence, holding the little sack that contained the thread and looking rather tired.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, which made Col look away like a scolded puppy.
He was smart enough to know he had been made sport of, perhaps. But it seemed to have affected him more than Lawrence would have anticipated.
"Are you so very surprised?"
"...N-no, it's just..."
Col's eyes glanced this way and that.
Lawrence wondered if he had become too accustomed to traveling with a certain maliciously witty wolf.
"Holo's teasing is far worse than mine," said Lawrence, feeling a bit defensive.
This seemed to call something to Col's mind, and he nodded, embarrassed. "True," he admitted.
"And I seem to recall her telling you to be more shameless. I'm no god, just a merchant, so I don't show mercy unless begged."
Lawrence had not paid Col back for the salve, to say nothing for his solution to the coin puzzle. He wanted to reward the lad, but most merchants would have said nothing. Hardly any would remind a seller he had forgotten to demand payment. Lawrence agonized over which kind he was but finally decided in favor of honesty.
"Of course, if you were actually the sort of person who acted shamelessly when told to, I suppose I wouldn't be traveling with you."
Instead of being embarrassed, Col smiled.
Lawrence could see why Holo liked him so much.
"Still, I may not be a god, but I don't mind being prayed to once in a while."
"Huh?"
"If I truly hated being asked for this or that, I wouldn't be traveling with certain fanged somebody."
At these words, Col grinned and tightened his grip on the burlap bag.
"But you're a future clergyman, so if you're not going to pray to me, at least let me give my confession."
"Eh...you mean...?"
"I confess that my behavior during the prior exchange was not exactly commendable," said Lawrence, looking away from Col.
Col was silent for only a moment, then soon caught on and straightened up, his expression turning serious, as one would expect from a priest. "What do you mean by that?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He seemed to be evaluating the boy's technique more than he was watching to see whether the thread sold or not.
Lawrence looked at the master, who seemed to notice him, and the two men shared a glance. The man gave a voiceless smile and raised his hand in greeting.
Lawrence replied with a nod and then turned his attention back to the boy. "It is indeed a fine gold. Bright as any metal."
"Is it not? So, if you please—"
"Still, wouldn't such fine thread be wasted on such a coat? If it's so bright as to cause even true gold to fade by comparison, won't it cause the seams to stand out?
In that instant, the boy's desperate business smile froze.
Behind the boy, Lawrence heard the master sigh helplessly.
"To make sure the seams aren't too visible, we'll take your cheapest gray thread."
Perhaps visions of the commission he had hoped to make from selling the golden thread had been dancing in his head, for the boy was at a loss for a reply. Behind him, the master stood and approached. "What length will you be needing?"
The man knocked the boy on the head with a rough hand worthy of a craftsman.
If he could not stand up to a clever merchant, he would never be able to sell his wares for a good price, no matter how skillfully they were made. The master seemed to be trying to teach his apprentice this lesson.
"How much could I get for three silver lute?"
"Indeed...in that frayed state, maybe enough to do five seams like it? And while you're at it, how about taking some of this blue thread off my hands? The dye's been coming off the boats like mad these days, so there's quite a lot."
"You should buy it while it's cheap, then, and sell it when the price rises."
The man smiled as though knowing it had been futile from the beginning. "Three lute worth, then," he said, taking down a spool of the gray thread.
Their shopping concluded, Lawrence and Col returned to the inn. They walked alongside the river and gazed at the town, Col following two steps behind Lawrence, holding the little sack that contained the thread and looking rather tired.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, which made Col look away like a scolded puppy.
He was smart enough to know he had been made sport of, perhaps. But it seemed to have affected him more than Lawrence would have anticipated.
"Are you so very surprised?"
"...N-no, it's just..."
Col's eyes glanced this way and that.
Lawrence wondered if he had become too accustomed to traveling with a certain maliciously witty wolf.
"Holo's teasing is far worse than mine," said Lawrence, feeling a bit defensive.
This seemed to call something to Col's mind, and he nodded, embarrassed. "True," he admitted.
"And I seem to recall her telling you to be more shameless. I'm no god, just a merchant, so I don't show mercy unless begged."
Lawrence had not paid Col back for the salve, to say nothing for his solution to the coin puzzle. He wanted to reward the lad, but most merchants would have said nothing. Hardly any would remind a seller he had forgotten to demand payment. Lawrence agonized over which kind he was but finally decided in favor of honesty.
"Of course, if you were actually the sort of person who acted shamelessly when told to, I suppose I wouldn't be traveling with you."
Instead of being embarrassed, Col smiled.
Lawrence could see why Holo liked him so much.
"Still, I may not be a god, but I don't mind being prayed to once in a while."
"Huh?"
"If I truly hated being asked for this or that, I wouldn't be traveling with certain fanged somebody."
At these words, Col grinned and tightened his grip on the burlap bag.
"But you're a future clergyman, so if you're not going to pray to me, at least let me give my confession."
"Eh...you mean...?"
"I confess that my behavior during the prior exchange was not exactly commendable," said Lawrence, looking away from Col.
Col was silent for only a moment, then soon caught on and straightened up, his expression turning serious, as one would expect from a priest. "What do you mean by that?"
| "Taking your frustration out?"
Col had a bad habit of becoming distracted by his own thoughts. As soon as he replied to Lawrence, he looked up, stumbled, and fell.
"You saw how troubled I was back at the inn, didn't you?" Lawrence couldn't bring himself to laugh at the boy during his own confession, so he merely held out a hand. When one stumbled, royalty blamed, nobility coughed, and commoners pretended to have done it on purpose.
But Col did none of those things.
He was going to become a fine clergy member.
"I did."
But at this answer, Lawrence could not help uttering a pained chuckle. Col hastily tried to take it back, but Lawrence waved him off. "No, no, it's fine. You may be my apprentice, but I can't very well strike your face just to save mine."
Looking a bit confused, Col smiled and then rubbed his own cheek.
"But after acting so pathetically, I wanted to get some of my pride back, you see."
"...So was that why you shared that look with the master in the shop, then?"
The boy had keen eyes indeed.
"That's right. I went over your head just to tease you. I just wanted to make you worry that I was going to buy you the most expensive thread...and feel a bit superior myself. Rather childish of me, I guess."
Lawrence scratched his neck as he looked out over the river.
Some merchants stood near a boat as it was being unloaded. He could hear their voices on the wind. They were trying to talk themselves on board so they could cross to the southern side.
But the town regulated river crossings during times of crisis. Crossing the river was an important connection indeed for the town's landowners. Lawrence doubted the boatman would risk taking the merchants across for a piddling bribe, which the merchants themselves surely knew. Yet they were still trying to cross, which went to show how significant the events currently playing out were.
Given all that, Kieman had still somehow managed to have his letter delivered to Lawrence, which yet again proved just how powerful he was.
"Your confession has been heard. God has surely forgiven you." Not only had Col heard him out, but also he had added the priest's standard phrase after doing so.
"Thank you," said Lawrence, trying to sound as grateful as he could.
"Still, Mr. Lawrence—"
"Hmm?"
"You had another reason for doing that, didn't you?"
Col looked straight at Lawrence. His gaze held not a trace of malice, which made Lawrence feel all the more impaled by it.
"You were trying to meet Miss Holo's expectations, weren't you?"
The boy's eyes shone as if he were a child listening to a heroic tale, so brightly that they were almost painful to regard.
Lawrence could not help but turn away from him out of shame. "I can't say that...wasn't part of it, too," he finally managed to answer.
Confirming his own negotiation ability was the source of his unease.
"I know I can't do very much to help you, Mr. Lawrence, but please keep at it!"
"R-right."
It seemed like Col was putting every ounce of his slim frame's strength into supporting Lawrence. Lawrence was sure that if he had been in the boy's position and seen someone older than him act in such a shameful manner, his esteem for his elder would have fallen.
The only reason he thought to buy the thread for Col and toyed with the shop boy was in service of his own sense of superiority.
Not only did Col not mind, he was actually cheering Lawrence on. Part of that could be ascribed to Col's personality, but mysteries yet remained.
And a merchant's curiosity ran deeper than any cat's.
"And despite my looking so pathetic—a sad little merchant taking his frustrations out on those beneath him—you still hold me in some esteem? You're a strange lad, that's certain," said Lawrence, and unsurprisingly, Col was taken aback.
He had not intended to flatter Lawrence; he had simply been speaking his mind. "Huh...? But...I mean...you're traveling with Miss Holo, aren't you? She told me you were looking for her homelands."
"True, but...?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Taking your frustration out?"
Col had a bad habit of becoming distracted by his own thoughts. As soon as he replied to Lawrence, he looked up, stumbled, and fell.
"You saw how troubled I was back at the inn, didn't you?" Lawrence couldn't bring himself to laugh at the boy during his own confession, so he merely held out a hand. When one stumbled, royalty blamed, nobility coughed, and commoners pretended to have done it on purpose.
But Col did none of those things.
He was going to become a fine clergy member.
"I did."
But at this answer, Lawrence could not help uttering a pained chuckle. Col hastily tried to take it back, but Lawrence waved him off. "No, no, it's fine. You may be my apprentice, but I can't very well strike your face just to save mine."
Looking a bit confused, Col smiled and then rubbed his own cheek.
"But after acting so pathetically, I wanted to get some of my pride back, you see."
"...So was that why you shared that look with the master in the shop, then?"
The boy had keen eyes indeed.
"That's right. I went over your head just to tease you. I just wanted to make you worry that I was going to buy you the most expensive thread...and feel a bit superior myself. Rather childish of me, I guess."
Lawrence scratched his neck as he looked out over the river.
Some merchants stood near a boat as it was being unloaded. He could hear their voices on the wind. They were trying to talk themselves on board so they could cross to the southern side.
But the town regulated river crossings during times of crisis. Crossing the river was an important connection indeed for the town's landowners. Lawrence doubted the boatman would risk taking the merchants across for a piddling bribe, which the merchants themselves surely knew. Yet they were still trying to cross, which went to show how significant the events currently playing out were.
Given all that, Kieman had still somehow managed to have his letter delivered to Lawrence, which yet again proved just how powerful he was.
"Your confession has been heard. God has surely forgiven you." Not only had Col heard him out, but also he had added the priest's standard phrase after doing so.
"Thank you," said Lawrence, trying to sound as grateful as he could.
"Still, Mr. Lawrence—"
"Hmm?"
"You had another reason for doing that, didn't you?"
Col looked straight at Lawrence. His gaze held not a trace of malice, which made Lawrence feel all the more impaled by it.
"You were trying to meet Miss Holo's expectations, weren't you?"
The boy's eyes shone as if he were a child listening to a heroic tale, so brightly that they were almost painful to regard.
Lawrence could not help but turn away from him out of shame. "I can't say that...wasn't part of it, too," he finally managed to answer.
Confirming his own negotiation ability was the source of his unease.
"I know I can't do very much to help you, Mr. Lawrence, but please keep at it!"
"R-right."
It seemed like Col was putting every ounce of his slim frame's strength into supporting Lawrence. Lawrence was sure that if he had been in the boy's position and seen someone older than him act in such a shameful manner, his esteem for his elder would have fallen.
The only reason he thought to buy the thread for Col and toyed with the shop boy was in service of his own sense of superiority.
Not only did Col not mind, he was actually cheering Lawrence on. Part of that could be ascribed to Col's personality, but mysteries yet remained.
And a merchant's curiosity ran deeper than any cat's.
"And despite my looking so pathetic—a sad little merchant taking his frustrations out on those beneath him—you still hold me in some esteem? You're a strange lad, that's certain," said Lawrence, and unsurprisingly, Col was taken aback.
He had not intended to flatter Lawrence; he had simply been speaking his mind. "Huh...? But...I mean...you're traveling with Miss Holo, aren't you? She told me you were looking for her homelands."
"True, but...?"
| Lawrence did not understand what Col was getting at. It was true that the obstacle before them was beyond what a traveling merchant could handle, and even with Holo's support he felt far from confident.
But he got the feeling that Col's words referred to something else.
Did he mean that simply being able to travel with Holo implied that Lawrence was formidable in his own right, and therefore any problem that worried him this much had to be a serious matter?
Or was it something else?
Lawrence mulled it over and then realized something.
Col continued speaking. "I mean, this journey is the continuation of Holo's legend, isn't it? So the problems you face have to be worthy of such a tale! I'm truly grateful to be able to be part of the story," he said, revealing an innocent smile.
Tales of adventure were passed down from traveler to traveler along the road, in every inn and town. But it had been more than ten years since Lawrence had last longed to one day be involved in such a tale himself.
Even Col, who was so clever and logical he could leave any merchant in his wake felt the same way.
Surely there was not another boy so guilelessly charming as this one.
"It's true; she does say she'll speak of this journey grandly in legends to come. But that's all the more reason I need to behave properly for you."
Lawrence meant it as a joke, and Col's eyes went wide as he smiled. "I don't want to be thought of as a burden when our tale is told!"
It was a reply to a joke that could never have been made in front of Holo.
Lawrence shook his head lightly, sighing and looking up. "Well, in any case, there's one thing we must be very careful of indeed. We must cooperate to make absolutely certain we never anger her."
Col was clever enough not to take his words for their surface meaning. He seemed happy, which meant he must have understood what Lawrence was trying to say.
"Sometimes I act shamefully, as I did earlier. I need someone's help to stop me from doing it."
"I understand!" replied Col. "I'll do whatever I can."
Lawrence was up against opponents who were well used to fighting battles on multiple fronts. He needed every ally he could get.
What was it that Holo had said to him? Her admonishment that he should get used to using people could have meant that he would have to start trusting them. In this battle of many versus many, such advice would surely be all the more important.
Lawrence shook hands with Col, his mood much improved. When it came to reaffirming his faith in his negotiation skills, that handshake was hundreds of times more effective than the pathetic banter with the tailor's shop boy.
Holo was probably snickering back on the bed even then.
"Well, shall we return?" asked Lawrence, turning back toward the inn.
"Yes!" Col followed diagonally behind Lawrence.
The cloudy, unpleasant weather suddenly did not seem so very bad.
***
Returning to the inn with Col, they found Holo fast asleep, curled up in her blanket and snoring away quietly.
Lawrence exchanged a wordless smile with Col, and in that moment, Holo's snoring abruptly stopped.
Either she was simply that sensitive to any sort of discussion about her, or the delicate hairs in her ears picked up the faint movements in the air upon their entry.
Holo opened her eyes slowly, then buried her head beneath the blankets, her whole body quivering as she yawned.
"So, truly—what shall we do?" she asked.
Holo could tell that Col had gone out with Lawrence, and she called him straight over, sniffing him audibly.
No doubt she had an ulterior motive—that of demanding a share of any food they might have bought.
Col looked faintly abashed, shrinking at the attention.
"A traveling merchant cannot hope to survive without a guild. So at the very least, I cannot oppose them."
"'A big tree makes fine shelter,' eh? I suppose it gives a bit of freedom to the small-fry beneath it—'tis probably the right choice."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence did not understand what Col was getting at. It was true that the obstacle before them was beyond what a traveling merchant could handle, and even with Holo's support he felt far from confident.
But he got the feeling that Col's words referred to something else.
Did he mean that simply being able to travel with Holo implied that Lawrence was formidable in his own right, and therefore any problem that worried him this much had to be a serious matter?
Or was it something else?
Lawrence mulled it over and then realized something.
Col continued speaking. "I mean, this journey is the continuation of Holo's legend, isn't it? So the problems you face have to be worthy of such a tale! I'm truly grateful to be able to be part of the story," he said, revealing an innocent smile.
Tales of adventure were passed down from traveler to traveler along the road, in every inn and town. But it had been more than ten years since Lawrence had last longed to one day be involved in such a tale himself.
Even Col, who was so clever and logical he could leave any merchant in his wake felt the same way.
Surely there was not another boy so guilelessly charming as this one.
"It's true; she does say she'll speak of this journey grandly in legends to come. But that's all the more reason I need to behave properly for you."
Lawrence meant it as a joke, and Col's eyes went wide as he smiled. "I don't want to be thought of as a burden when our tale is told!"
It was a reply to a joke that could never have been made in front of Holo.
Lawrence shook his head lightly, sighing and looking up. "Well, in any case, there's one thing we must be very careful of indeed. We must cooperate to make absolutely certain we never anger her."
Col was clever enough not to take his words for their surface meaning. He seemed happy, which meant he must have understood what Lawrence was trying to say.
"Sometimes I act shamefully, as I did earlier. I need someone's help to stop me from doing it."
"I understand!" replied Col. "I'll do whatever I can."
Lawrence was up against opponents who were well used to fighting battles on multiple fronts. He needed every ally he could get.
What was it that Holo had said to him? Her admonishment that he should get used to using people could have meant that he would have to start trusting them. In this battle of many versus many, such advice would surely be all the more important.
Lawrence shook hands with Col, his mood much improved. When it came to reaffirming his faith in his negotiation skills, that handshake was hundreds of times more effective than the pathetic banter with the tailor's shop boy.
Holo was probably snickering back on the bed even then.
"Well, shall we return?" asked Lawrence, turning back toward the inn.
"Yes!" Col followed diagonally behind Lawrence.
The cloudy, unpleasant weather suddenly did not seem so very bad.
***
Returning to the inn with Col, they found Holo fast asleep, curled up in her blanket and snoring away quietly.
Lawrence exchanged a wordless smile with Col, and in that moment, Holo's snoring abruptly stopped.
Either she was simply that sensitive to any sort of discussion about her, or the delicate hairs in her ears picked up the faint movements in the air upon their entry.
Holo opened her eyes slowly, then buried her head beneath the blankets, her whole body quivering as she yawned.
"So, truly—what shall we do?" she asked.
Holo could tell that Col had gone out with Lawrence, and she called him straight over, sniffing him audibly.
No doubt she had an ulterior motive—that of demanding a share of any food they might have bought.
Col looked faintly abashed, shrinking at the attention.
"A traveling merchant cannot hope to survive without a guild. So at the very least, I cannot oppose them."
"'A big tree makes fine shelter,' eh? I suppose it gives a bit of freedom to the small-fry beneath it—'tis probably the right choice."
| Holo was pointing out that since he was hardly an important figure in the town, he had the luxury of being able to move fairly freely despite the ongoing incident.
Calling him "small-fry" seemed harsh, but Lawrence had to admit it was accurate.
"Still, the greatest short-term profit would be had by taking the narwhal to Eve."
"And then make our escape, hand in hand? That might be rather amusing."
Without Holo, would such a dangerous, adventurous option have been available? Lawrence thought about it for a moment and concluded that if not for Holo, he would have long since removed himself from this dangerous situation entirely.
He slumped at the absurdity of it all, which made Holo grin maliciously, her tail wagging easily.
If you're so afraid of that possibility, just say so—but she did not say it, and neither did Lawrence.
It would have been a shame to pull the curtain up on their little drama so soon. They had to be considerate of their audience—Col.
"So, then. Given that both Eve and the guild know where we're staying, there's no telling when we'll get drawn up into danger. I'd like to make sure I have a full grasp of the situation so I don't react badly when that happens," said Lawrence. Holo gazed at him wordlessly for a while before smiling faintly.
"What is it?" he asked, but she only shook her head without answering.
Nevertheless, Lawrence had some idea why she was smiling.
She looked at him as if he were a small child who had fallen and was trying not to cry.
"Mm." Holo nodded and tapped Col's head—he was sitting beside her.
Col was one of them now.
"Please, go on!" Col replied to Lawrence, who began his explanation.
The inn was also a tavern, and it was late enough into the night that their orders of wine were fulfilled by a yawning innkeeper.
Lawrence had expected that either Kieman or Eve would come calling, but there was no news from either of them. He sipped wine out of sheer nervous energy, but his worry was so much effort in vain.
By contrast, Holo got Col quite drunk, as usual.
Once she was able to confirm that the intoxicated boy was asleep, she would move back to her own bed. Holo insisted that if she did not get him drunk, he would sleep on the floor.
Lawrence was not sure if she was doing him any favors or not. Her methods were extreme; that much was certain.
"Now then, this will finish off our day nicely."
Given that he had made a fool of himself twice that day, Lawrence had gone to fetch more wine from downstairs, though he knew it did not constitute an apology.
Holo seemed to expect as much, but Lawrence could tell that she was a bit disappointed at his meek obedience. She even seemed annoyed at his ordering of the last bottle, as she felt it excessive.
Usually she would make a dissatisfied face upon encountering the end of the evening's drinking, but now, if anything, she seemed relieved.
Her ability to be so thoroughly dishonest about her own desires was a cunning, wolfish thing indeed.
And yet Holo was still Holo.
"Ah, well, for my part I only wish you'd bring your whimpering to an end." She tried to pull her tail out from under Col's head at the corner of the bed and took the bottle from Lawrence's hand, a nasty smile on her face.
She was being so childish that it seemed likely she would enjoy his silence even more than a clumsy retort.
But if she got too happy, her wagging tale would surely wake the sleeping Col, so Lawrence formed a careful reply.
"Yet ask any mercenary, and they'll tell you the strong die first. I'd say some pathetic whimpering is just right."
"Fool," declared an unamused Holo, looking back down at Col. She grabbed his ears and pulled his head slightly up, evidently still trying to pull her tail free. It seemed a little extreme to Lawrence, until he noticed the drool that threatened to fall from the boy's mouth onto her tail. "I can't let my guard down," said Holo, sighing in relief as she stroked her now-freed tail.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo was pointing out that since he was hardly an important figure in the town, he had the luxury of being able to move fairly freely despite the ongoing incident.
Calling him "small-fry" seemed harsh, but Lawrence had to admit it was accurate.
"Still, the greatest short-term profit would be had by taking the narwhal to Eve."
"And then make our escape, hand in hand? That might be rather amusing."
Without Holo, would such a dangerous, adventurous option have been available? Lawrence thought about it for a moment and concluded that if not for Holo, he would have long since removed himself from this dangerous situation entirely.
He slumped at the absurdity of it all, which made Holo grin maliciously, her tail wagging easily.
If you're so afraid of that possibility, just say so—but she did not say it, and neither did Lawrence.
It would have been a shame to pull the curtain up on their little drama so soon. They had to be considerate of their audience—Col.
"So, then. Given that both Eve and the guild know where we're staying, there's no telling when we'll get drawn up into danger. I'd like to make sure I have a full grasp of the situation so I don't react badly when that happens," said Lawrence. Holo gazed at him wordlessly for a while before smiling faintly.
"What is it?" he asked, but she only shook her head without answering.
Nevertheless, Lawrence had some idea why she was smiling.
She looked at him as if he were a small child who had fallen and was trying not to cry.
"Mm." Holo nodded and tapped Col's head—he was sitting beside her.
Col was one of them now.
"Please, go on!" Col replied to Lawrence, who began his explanation.
The inn was also a tavern, and it was late enough into the night that their orders of wine were fulfilled by a yawning innkeeper.
Lawrence had expected that either Kieman or Eve would come calling, but there was no news from either of them. He sipped wine out of sheer nervous energy, but his worry was so much effort in vain.
By contrast, Holo got Col quite drunk, as usual.
Once she was able to confirm that the intoxicated boy was asleep, she would move back to her own bed. Holo insisted that if she did not get him drunk, he would sleep on the floor.
Lawrence was not sure if she was doing him any favors or not. Her methods were extreme; that much was certain.
"Now then, this will finish off our day nicely."
Given that he had made a fool of himself twice that day, Lawrence had gone to fetch more wine from downstairs, though he knew it did not constitute an apology.
Holo seemed to expect as much, but Lawrence could tell that she was a bit disappointed at his meek obedience. She even seemed annoyed at his ordering of the last bottle, as she felt it excessive.
Usually she would make a dissatisfied face upon encountering the end of the evening's drinking, but now, if anything, she seemed relieved.
Her ability to be so thoroughly dishonest about her own desires was a cunning, wolfish thing indeed.
And yet Holo was still Holo.
"Ah, well, for my part I only wish you'd bring your whimpering to an end." She tried to pull her tail out from under Col's head at the corner of the bed and took the bottle from Lawrence's hand, a nasty smile on her face.
She was being so childish that it seemed likely she would enjoy his silence even more than a clumsy retort.
But if she got too happy, her wagging tale would surely wake the sleeping Col, so Lawrence formed a careful reply.
"Yet ask any mercenary, and they'll tell you the strong die first. I'd say some pathetic whimpering is just right."
"Fool," declared an unamused Holo, looking back down at Col. She grabbed his ears and pulled his head slightly up, evidently still trying to pull her tail free. It seemed a little extreme to Lawrence, until he noticed the drool that threatened to fall from the boy's mouth onto her tail. "I can't let my guard down," said Holo, sighing in relief as she stroked her now-freed tail.
| Assuming the northern landowners were in charge, it seemed best to assume they were losing their ability to hold things together.
The narwhal could change everything.
More and more, Lawrence was coming to understand just how important it was.
"I am right here, and yet you gaze out the window?"
Holo had moved to a chair and helped herself to a handful of roast beans.
There was a boldness to her crunching away that made him somehow happy.
Lawrence shrugged and closed the windows. "We still need to be ready to escape at a moment's notice."
The answer seemed to satisfy Holo. She chuckled, picked up a bean that had fallen, and ate it. "I suppose 'tis true enough. Will you not drink with me a bit? 'Tis a sad thing to drink on one's own."
Holo poked at his cup of wine with her finger, causing ripples on the surface of the wine he had just poured into it.
Looking down at it, Lawrence realized he had not even finished half of his first cup. "Why not? It seems unlikely we'll get a message at this hour."
"Of that we cannot be certain."
"Huh?" inquired Lawrence, regarding Holo from across the table.
"Vixens have excellent night vision."
Lawrence thought it over for a moment, then shrugged and replied, "All the more important to drink now, then."
"Huh?"
"If I collapse unconscious from too much drink, there's no need to worry about how I might be tricked."
Holo grinned, revealing a fang. "Fool. If you fall asleep and expose your belly, our tale will come to an early end."
"I can't imagine the wolf would let the fox steal her prey so easily," replied Lawrence, which made Holo's grin widen, showing her other fang.
"That's a bit hard to know. After all, my prey is always showing me its belly. 'Tis all too easy to become careless and believe there's no need for haste. Such thinking is dangerous."
Having come to this point, Lawrence could not resist making some kind of comeback. "But your tail's just as exposed. If you would take me by surprise, you'd best be careful I don't grab your tail."
"And I suppose you want me to insist that you'd never dare such a thing, hmm?" Holo's elbows were on the table, her ears flicking rapidly; Lawrence felt a bit irritated.
He knew he was being teased, but he took a drink and responded, "And yet you're hiding something about the narwhal from me."
Immediately after saying so, he was the one who ended up surprised.
Holo grinned and brought her wine cup to her mouth, but then twitched in surprise.
If she had been acting, then Lawrence would have lost their little game—but Holo was genuinely shocked.
Her eyes moved away, realizing that she could not hide that she had been taken by surprise. She bit her lip and glared at Lawrence.
"I'm even more surprised than you are," said Lawrence by way of excuse.
At this, Holo's brow furrowed, and she took a deep breath. After a good interval, she heaved a wine-scented sigh.
"And this is why such fools as you are...," she muttered, gulping down what wine remained.
Lawrence should have had the advantage, but for some reason, he waited for Holo to speak again, like a child expecting to be scolded.
"I don't care what sort of face you make, I'm not saying. I do not wish to," she said, and she looked away sullenly.
Her angry yet childish demeanor had to be on purpose.
She might have been trying to lead him into a trap or simply trying to buy time in order to regroup.
As Lawrence pondered which it was, Holo's ears and tail became vital indicators.
Just as hunters and trappers communicated with smoke signals, Lawrence translated the subtle movements of Holo's appendages.
She was trying to hide her embarrassment—or something like that. "Ah," he couldn't help but say the moment he realized it.
"If you say another word, I truly will be angry," Holo said, still looking away, her eyes shut.
Lawrence agonized over whether to laugh or not, finally bringing his wine cup to his lips as a diversion—that was as much of a conclusion as he could come to.
Holo knew about the narwhal.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Assuming the northern landowners were in charge, it seemed best to assume they were losing their ability to hold things together.
The narwhal could change everything.
More and more, Lawrence was coming to understand just how important it was.
"I am right here, and yet you gaze out the window?"
Holo had moved to a chair and helped herself to a handful of roast beans.
There was a boldness to her crunching away that made him somehow happy.
Lawrence shrugged and closed the windows. "We still need to be ready to escape at a moment's notice."
The answer seemed to satisfy Holo. She chuckled, picked up a bean that had fallen, and ate it. "I suppose 'tis true enough. Will you not drink with me a bit? 'Tis a sad thing to drink on one's own."
Holo poked at his cup of wine with her finger, causing ripples on the surface of the wine he had just poured into it.
Looking down at it, Lawrence realized he had not even finished half of his first cup. "Why not? It seems unlikely we'll get a message at this hour."
"Of that we cannot be certain."
"Huh?" inquired Lawrence, regarding Holo from across the table.
"Vixens have excellent night vision."
Lawrence thought it over for a moment, then shrugged and replied, "All the more important to drink now, then."
"Huh?"
"If I collapse unconscious from too much drink, there's no need to worry about how I might be tricked."
Holo grinned, revealing a fang. "Fool. If you fall asleep and expose your belly, our tale will come to an early end."
"I can't imagine the wolf would let the fox steal her prey so easily," replied Lawrence, which made Holo's grin widen, showing her other fang.
"That's a bit hard to know. After all, my prey is always showing me its belly. 'Tis all too easy to become careless and believe there's no need for haste. Such thinking is dangerous."
Having come to this point, Lawrence could not resist making some kind of comeback. "But your tail's just as exposed. If you would take me by surprise, you'd best be careful I don't grab your tail."
"And I suppose you want me to insist that you'd never dare such a thing, hmm?" Holo's elbows were on the table, her ears flicking rapidly; Lawrence felt a bit irritated.
He knew he was being teased, but he took a drink and responded, "And yet you're hiding something about the narwhal from me."
Immediately after saying so, he was the one who ended up surprised.
Holo grinned and brought her wine cup to her mouth, but then twitched in surprise.
If she had been acting, then Lawrence would have lost their little game—but Holo was genuinely shocked.
Her eyes moved away, realizing that she could not hide that she had been taken by surprise. She bit her lip and glared at Lawrence.
"I'm even more surprised than you are," said Lawrence by way of excuse.
At this, Holo's brow furrowed, and she took a deep breath. After a good interval, she heaved a wine-scented sigh.
"And this is why such fools as you are...," she muttered, gulping down what wine remained.
Lawrence should have had the advantage, but for some reason, he waited for Holo to speak again, like a child expecting to be scolded.
"I don't care what sort of face you make, I'm not saying. I do not wish to," she said, and she looked away sullenly.
Her angry yet childish demeanor had to be on purpose.
She might have been trying to lead him into a trap or simply trying to buy time in order to regroup.
As Lawrence pondered which it was, Holo's ears and tail became vital indicators.
Just as hunters and trappers communicated with smoke signals, Lawrence translated the subtle movements of Holo's appendages.
She was trying to hide her embarrassment—or something like that. "Ah," he couldn't help but say the moment he realized it.
"If you say another word, I truly will be angry," Holo said, still looking away, her eyes shut.
Lawrence agonized over whether to laugh or not, finally bringing his wine cup to his lips as a diversion—that was as much of a conclusion as he could come to.
Holo knew about the narwhal.
| Then it was all Lawrence could do to think back on the events of his travels with Holo thus far.
What was it that her long life had led her to fear above all else?
And yet even Holo could not have known everything at the time of her birth. She must have been a stubborn child at some point herself—must have run around like a fool at least once or twice in her life.
Even now, if she could make a wish, surely it would be this: to somehow bridge the great difference in their ages.
"...I thought you'd realized and were merely pretending not to know for my sake—more the fool me, I suppose."
She seemed to have concluded from Lawrence's expression that he had finally caught up. She spoke as though at a loss for anything else and again brought her wine to her lips.
Lawrence was relieved to see that she seemed neither sad nor on the verge of tears, because it showed that even stricken by a mistake made in the distant past, her face could still smile.
"No...to be completely honest, I thought you were completely ignorant about such things. I never guessed you'd know about the legend."
The stories of immortality or omnipotent cures were surely only of interest to humans, after all. He had never guessed they would be of any concern to Holo and the rest of her kind.
"Fool..." Holo roughly wiped away a bit of wine that clung to the corner of her mouth with her sleeve and then fell forward on the table as if exhausted.
Given how tightly her hand held her cup, though, it might simply have been intoxication.
"So you once pursued a narwhal?" Lawrence asked, and Holo nodded.
It had to have been centuries ago.
"Though 'tis true that at the time I was an ignorant pup, I believed I could change everything about the world I found distasteful. When I hated being rescued or relied upon, I would journey, and when I had no friends, I would make them. I believed such pleasant times would last forever," she reflected, sounding vaguely amused, still lying on the table as she fingered some of the beans that had spilled off the plate.
Even now, Holo held back from being truly honest. If this was how she ended up after weathering such ages of wind and rain, then she must truly have been even sharper in her younger days.
"Still, I cried a lot as well, for all my bluster. You'd probably have liked it."
Holo grinned and moved her eyes to focus on Lawrence.
She flicked beans at him, which he could only respond to by making a face and retreating into his wine.
"Heh...but, aye. The more painful the memories one recollects, the better the laughter."
"I can't argue with that." Lawrence had laughed to himself while driving his cart many times, lost in reflection over his past failures.
But that was not something he wanted to do too often, and the reason was clear—he had lacked someone with whom to share those memories. And yet he immediately realized such thoughts had no place in his mind.
Across the table, the keen-eyed wolf regarded him and smiled.
"But now I have you," she said without a trace of embarrassment, and he could only respond by flicking a bean back at her.
"You have Col, too."
"I cannot talk like this with Col. The lad—he's the weight stone that reminds me I am a wisewolf."
What did she mean by that? Lawrence's finger froze preflick as he thought it over.
Col was from a village in the mountains of the north. He viewed Holo as the protagonist of an ongoing legend.
Which meant there could be only one reason why she would regard him as a weight.
Her finger suddenly flicked at where Lawrence's finger lay.
"Col worships me as a wisewolf. He was foolish enough to want to touch my tail the moment he saw it. It's been centuries since such a thing has happened to me. It reminded me of long ago and made me happy...He's a good lad, and he reminds me that I am a wisewolf."
Holo's index finger curled around Lawrence's where the two touched.
"It's true, you have been easier to get along with recently."
"Heh. I've no excuse."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Then it was all Lawrence could do to think back on the events of his travels with Holo thus far.
What was it that her long life had led her to fear above all else?
And yet even Holo could not have known everything at the time of her birth. She must have been a stubborn child at some point herself—must have run around like a fool at least once or twice in her life.
Even now, if she could make a wish, surely it would be this: to somehow bridge the great difference in their ages.
"...I thought you'd realized and were merely pretending not to know for my sake—more the fool me, I suppose."
She seemed to have concluded from Lawrence's expression that he had finally caught up. She spoke as though at a loss for anything else and again brought her wine to her lips.
Lawrence was relieved to see that she seemed neither sad nor on the verge of tears, because it showed that even stricken by a mistake made in the distant past, her face could still smile.
"No...to be completely honest, I thought you were completely ignorant about such things. I never guessed you'd know about the legend."
The stories of immortality or omnipotent cures were surely only of interest to humans, after all. He had never guessed they would be of any concern to Holo and the rest of her kind.
"Fool..." Holo roughly wiped away a bit of wine that clung to the corner of her mouth with her sleeve and then fell forward on the table as if exhausted.
Given how tightly her hand held her cup, though, it might simply have been intoxication.
"So you once pursued a narwhal?" Lawrence asked, and Holo nodded.
It had to have been centuries ago.
"Though 'tis true that at the time I was an ignorant pup, I believed I could change everything about the world I found distasteful. When I hated being rescued or relied upon, I would journey, and when I had no friends, I would make them. I believed such pleasant times would last forever," she reflected, sounding vaguely amused, still lying on the table as she fingered some of the beans that had spilled off the plate.
Even now, Holo held back from being truly honest. If this was how she ended up after weathering such ages of wind and rain, then she must truly have been even sharper in her younger days.
"Still, I cried a lot as well, for all my bluster. You'd probably have liked it."
Holo grinned and moved her eyes to focus on Lawrence.
She flicked beans at him, which he could only respond to by making a face and retreating into his wine.
"Heh...but, aye. The more painful the memories one recollects, the better the laughter."
"I can't argue with that." Lawrence had laughed to himself while driving his cart many times, lost in reflection over his past failures.
But that was not something he wanted to do too often, and the reason was clear—he had lacked someone with whom to share those memories. And yet he immediately realized such thoughts had no place in his mind.
Across the table, the keen-eyed wolf regarded him and smiled.
"But now I have you," she said without a trace of embarrassment, and he could only respond by flicking a bean back at her.
"You have Col, too."
"I cannot talk like this with Col. The lad—he's the weight stone that reminds me I am a wisewolf."
What did she mean by that? Lawrence's finger froze preflick as he thought it over.
Col was from a village in the mountains of the north. He viewed Holo as the protagonist of an ongoing legend.
Which meant there could be only one reason why she would regard him as a weight.
Her finger suddenly flicked at where Lawrence's finger lay.
"Col worships me as a wisewolf. He was foolish enough to want to touch my tail the moment he saw it. It's been centuries since such a thing has happened to me. It reminded me of long ago and made me happy...He's a good lad, and he reminds me that I am a wisewolf."
Holo's index finger curled around Lawrence's where the two touched.
"It's true, you have been easier to get along with recently."
"Heh. I've no excuse."
| It was Holo the Wisewolf who was worthy of the forest of Yoitsu, not some idle girl whiling away her time with a traveling merchant.
"Still," Lawrence said after a certain amount of wordless finger play between the two of them. "For you to keep that from me, after haranguing me so much over consulting you before deciding what to do..."
How many troubles had arisen from each of them keeping their hearts secret from the other?
It pained him to have to say this, of course, but Holo answered without rancor. "If I discuss matters of business openly, my own gain will be less, will it not?" If she had not said it with such a mischievous smile, it would have been hard to accept with even the most rueful of grins.
Holo sat up and stretched, her ears flicking.
Both of them knew how important it was that they not grow too close. And yet that very awareness meant the opposite was happening—Lawrence had kicked the rule aside himself before.
Even Holo must have kicked at the stones along the path of her long, long life once or twice.
And yet none of that changed reality.
Holo had called Col a weight that anchored her belief in herself as a wisewolf, and she surely was not exaggerating. While it might be amusing for her to use the boy to tease Lawrence, she also did this out of self-defense—to make sure she never crossed the line. To hide the awful reality she understood but could do nothing about. As an excuse.
"Aye, we're all greedy, always running about in service of our own gain."
"On that count, I'm forced to agree. Of course...," said Lawrence with a trace of irony. "...Of course, if I weren't so greedy, I'd be able to buy you tastier food."
Holo laughed, tickled at the joke, then stood from the chair.
Her face was red, so she was probably too warm. As he had guessed, she opened the window slightly and narrowed her eyes in pleasure at the cool breeze.
"Mm. But is seeing my pleasure not in your interests as well?" Holo closed her eyes as the cool air caressed her cheek, looking like a purring cat. She then opened a single eye and regarded Lawrence with it.
Her movements were so perfectly performed it was as if she was watching herself in a mirror.
"If you were truly so easily bribed by food, then that might be so."
Holo closed her eye again at the counterattack.
Her ability to repeat a gesture she had made just seconds earlier, this time seeming to sulk, was amazing.
A few moments later, Holo was every bit the arrogant noblewoman. "And what other methods could you use?"
Lawrence remembered when a village with which he had once traded asked him to sell the wine barrels they produced to a nearby abbey that possessed a large vineyard.
The abbot there was a proud and stingy man, making all sorts of demands of Lawrence, who had to work very hard indeed to complete the sale.
Being a member of a wealthy abbey, the abbot surely felt himself closer to God than Lawrence and thus privileged to look down upon him.
Yet the wisewolf before Lawrence's very eyes hated being treated as the god she was—so why would she affect such haughtiness?
The abbot cared little for the losses of those who sold to him and was concerned only with his own profits.
So given that the starting conditions here were the opposite of that, then the conclusion was likewise the opposite.
Lawrence said what she wanted him to say.
"If food is out, then with words or manners."
"Neither of which is so very reliable in your case."
He had become so used to her malicious, fanged grin that it had even more charm than a normal smile. And if neither his words nor his manner could be trusted, there was only one option that remained.
In order to fully display its truth, Lawrence had to stand up from his chair.
Or perhaps remaining seated in order to avoid fleeing from Holo was the better option.
Both had their charms, Lawrence knew. He took a drink of his wine and replied.
"Or you could imagine you've been deceived and decide to trust both. They might well turn out to be genuine."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was Holo the Wisewolf who was worthy of the forest of Yoitsu, not some idle girl whiling away her time with a traveling merchant.
"Still," Lawrence said after a certain amount of wordless finger play between the two of them. "For you to keep that from me, after haranguing me so much over consulting you before deciding what to do..."
How many troubles had arisen from each of them keeping their hearts secret from the other?
It pained him to have to say this, of course, but Holo answered without rancor. "If I discuss matters of business openly, my own gain will be less, will it not?" If she had not said it with such a mischievous smile, it would have been hard to accept with even the most rueful of grins.
Holo sat up and stretched, her ears flicking.
Both of them knew how important it was that they not grow too close. And yet that very awareness meant the opposite was happening—Lawrence had kicked the rule aside himself before.
Even Holo must have kicked at the stones along the path of her long, long life once or twice.
And yet none of that changed reality.
Holo had called Col a weight that anchored her belief in herself as a wisewolf, and she surely was not exaggerating. While it might be amusing for her to use the boy to tease Lawrence, she also did this out of self-defense—to make sure she never crossed the line. To hide the awful reality she understood but could do nothing about. As an excuse.
"Aye, we're all greedy, always running about in service of our own gain."
"On that count, I'm forced to agree. Of course...," said Lawrence with a trace of irony. "...Of course, if I weren't so greedy, I'd be able to buy you tastier food."
Holo laughed, tickled at the joke, then stood from the chair.
Her face was red, so she was probably too warm. As he had guessed, she opened the window slightly and narrowed her eyes in pleasure at the cool breeze.
"Mm. But is seeing my pleasure not in your interests as well?" Holo closed her eyes as the cool air caressed her cheek, looking like a purring cat. She then opened a single eye and regarded Lawrence with it.
Her movements were so perfectly performed it was as if she was watching herself in a mirror.
"If you were truly so easily bribed by food, then that might be so."
Holo closed her eye again at the counterattack.
Her ability to repeat a gesture she had made just seconds earlier, this time seeming to sulk, was amazing.
A few moments later, Holo was every bit the arrogant noblewoman. "And what other methods could you use?"
Lawrence remembered when a village with which he had once traded asked him to sell the wine barrels they produced to a nearby abbey that possessed a large vineyard.
The abbot there was a proud and stingy man, making all sorts of demands of Lawrence, who had to work very hard indeed to complete the sale.
Being a member of a wealthy abbey, the abbot surely felt himself closer to God than Lawrence and thus privileged to look down upon him.
Yet the wisewolf before Lawrence's very eyes hated being treated as the god she was—so why would she affect such haughtiness?
The abbot cared little for the losses of those who sold to him and was concerned only with his own profits.
So given that the starting conditions here were the opposite of that, then the conclusion was likewise the opposite.
Lawrence said what she wanted him to say.
"If food is out, then with words or manners."
"Neither of which is so very reliable in your case."
He had become so used to her malicious, fanged grin that it had even more charm than a normal smile. And if neither his words nor his manner could be trusted, there was only one option that remained.
In order to fully display its truth, Lawrence had to stand up from his chair.
Or perhaps remaining seated in order to avoid fleeing from Holo was the better option.
Both had their charms, Lawrence knew. He took a drink of his wine and replied.
"Or you could imagine you've been deceived and decide to trust both. They might well turn out to be genuine."
| The words of Eve, wolf of the Roam River, worked to marvelous effect.
Holo glared at Lawrence out of the corner of her eye, her tail twitching in irritation. She had no means to counterattack.
It felt good to have, for once, the upper hand in their banter—better even than when he had teased the shop boy at the tailor's shop. Defeat turned the mightiest eagle into a pathetic chicken, and likewise, victory made the most timid mouse into a bold wolf.
Yet trueborn wolves were ever cunning.
"That is not what I meant to say," she said angrily, her expression lonely.
Where playful banter was meant to be a battle of logic and intimation, Holo's weapons were unfair.
If their exchange thus far was akin to a business negotiation, then what Holo had just employed had the power to transcend that.
So what was it that surpassed proper negotiation?
There in front of that window, Lawrence had said something unnecessary. "We have to be ready to run."
Holo's gaze was directed out the window, but her ears were pointed at him.
She did not bother giving voice to her frustration.
It was absurd to even think of winning against her.
"How about treating the loser kindly once in a while?" Lawrence stood and walked over to her. Having delivered his statement beside her, he then sat on the windowsill.
Holo chuckled soundlessly, then sat on his lap.
"The victor can say nothing to the loser."
"Saying as much while always having your way, you must really fear nothing."
Her ears brushed his cheeks, making him ticklish, as she leaned into him. This wisewolf certainly was full of excuses.
"Still, I suppose I can trust you at least a bit."
"Oh? Merchants may well seem sincere as they bow down, but inside they're sticking their tongues out."
Lawrence had to admit the words felt rather artificial, but in any case Holo gave him no quarter.
"'Tis true, men and beasts alike stick their tongues out when defeated."
"Guh..." Frustrating though it was, he had nothing with which to reply, so he slumped back against the windowsill.
Holo chuckled and spoke slowly. "But 'tis also true that neither you nor I are alone when defeated."
Given the events of the day, her words were heavy with meaning. Lawrence drew Holo into an embrace and replied, "I'll remember that."
Holo's tail swished, and she nodded slightly.
In that quiet moment, the loudest sound was that of Col's intoxicated snoring.
Remembering that Holo was every bit a wisewolf was effective when it came to avoiding shortsightedness, but whether or not that was a good or bad thing, Lawrence did not know.
At the very least, it certainly acted as an effective counterweight, protecting the delicate balance of the scales.
Holo smiled, her eyes closed; perhaps she was thinking the same thing.
Lawrence put his arms around her to more closely embrace her small body, and in that moment—
"Mmph," she muttered, sounding irritated as she looked up suddenly.
"Wh...what's wrong?"
Lawrence tried to keep his calm, but sweat broke out on his brow nonetheless.
Holo certainly noticed as much and grinned, her tail wagging. She then slowly rose, her ears busily rotating this way and that.
The reason for her suddenly darkened expression was soon clear.
"My. I suppose one's premonitions are not so easily discounted."
Lawrence quickly understood to what her words referred.
Holo directed her gaze out the window, and Lawrence did likewise.
"See, there's the master of that poor shop. What was his name again...?"
"Reynolds, eh?"
Lawrence spotted the hurrying form of a portly man in a too-small coat, trying to keep his distance from the drunkards as he made his way down the street. The way he hewed to the edge of the street while looking closely at everyone around him was obviously unnatural.
"'Tis a good opportunity for you to prove the courage of your convictions."
Spending no time wondering why Reynolds had come to the inn, Lawrence spoke into Holo's ear before she stood. "Make sure you pretend you're asleep."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The words of Eve, wolf of the Roam River, worked to marvelous effect.
Holo glared at Lawrence out of the corner of her eye, her tail twitching in irritation. She had no means to counterattack.
It felt good to have, for once, the upper hand in their banter—better even than when he had teased the shop boy at the tailor's shop. Defeat turned the mightiest eagle into a pathetic chicken, and likewise, victory made the most timid mouse into a bold wolf.
Yet trueborn wolves were ever cunning.
"That is not what I meant to say," she said angrily, her expression lonely.
Where playful banter was meant to be a battle of logic and intimation, Holo's weapons were unfair.
If their exchange thus far was akin to a business negotiation, then what Holo had just employed had the power to transcend that.
So what was it that surpassed proper negotiation?
There in front of that window, Lawrence had said something unnecessary. "We have to be ready to run."
Holo's gaze was directed out the window, but her ears were pointed at him.
She did not bother giving voice to her frustration.
It was absurd to even think of winning against her.
"How about treating the loser kindly once in a while?" Lawrence stood and walked over to her. Having delivered his statement beside her, he then sat on the windowsill.
Holo chuckled soundlessly, then sat on his lap.
"The victor can say nothing to the loser."
"Saying as much while always having your way, you must really fear nothing."
Her ears brushed his cheeks, making him ticklish, as she leaned into him. This wisewolf certainly was full of excuses.
"Still, I suppose I can trust you at least a bit."
"Oh? Merchants may well seem sincere as they bow down, but inside they're sticking their tongues out."
Lawrence had to admit the words felt rather artificial, but in any case Holo gave him no quarter.
"'Tis true, men and beasts alike stick their tongues out when defeated."
"Guh..." Frustrating though it was, he had nothing with which to reply, so he slumped back against the windowsill.
Holo chuckled and spoke slowly. "But 'tis also true that neither you nor I are alone when defeated."
Given the events of the day, her words were heavy with meaning. Lawrence drew Holo into an embrace and replied, "I'll remember that."
Holo's tail swished, and she nodded slightly.
In that quiet moment, the loudest sound was that of Col's intoxicated snoring.
Remembering that Holo was every bit a wisewolf was effective when it came to avoiding shortsightedness, but whether or not that was a good or bad thing, Lawrence did not know.
At the very least, it certainly acted as an effective counterweight, protecting the delicate balance of the scales.
Holo smiled, her eyes closed; perhaps she was thinking the same thing.
Lawrence put his arms around her to more closely embrace her small body, and in that moment—
"Mmph," she muttered, sounding irritated as she looked up suddenly.
"Wh...what's wrong?"
Lawrence tried to keep his calm, but sweat broke out on his brow nonetheless.
Holo certainly noticed as much and grinned, her tail wagging. She then slowly rose, her ears busily rotating this way and that.
The reason for her suddenly darkened expression was soon clear.
"My. I suppose one's premonitions are not so easily discounted."
Lawrence quickly understood to what her words referred.
Holo directed her gaze out the window, and Lawrence did likewise.
"See, there's the master of that poor shop. What was his name again...?"
"Reynolds, eh?"
Lawrence spotted the hurrying form of a portly man in a too-small coat, trying to keep his distance from the drunkards as he made his way down the street. The way he hewed to the edge of the street while looking closely at everyone around him was obviously unnatural.
"'Tis a good opportunity for you to prove the courage of your convictions."
Spending no time wondering why Reynolds had come to the inn, Lawrence spoke into Holo's ear before she stood. "Make sure you pretend you're asleep."
| Putting many meanings into a single word was her specialty.
Lawrence knew that no matter how he answered, he would be trapped, so he brushed her tail roughly aside as his only reply.
While the fewer people who knew about it made a secret more secure, it was another story entirely when one of the privy parties showed up himself for a secret late-night meeting.
It was the antithesis of Eve and Kieman's approach of sending others to contact Lawrence.
"Apologies for the late hour." Despite the cold, Reynolds's paunch made his breath run ragged and forehead sweaty, although some of that could be ascribed to nervousness.
His voice was low, but not out of consideration for Holo and Col, who were curled up together on the bed, sleeping.
"Shall we speak outside?" Lawrence asked, but Reynolds glanced over his shoulder at this, then looked back and shook this head. It was very like a town merchant not to want to speak of secrets out in the open.
By contrast, a traveling merchant preferred to have sensitive conversations out in a wide field or on a lonely road where a simple look was all it took to confirm that no one was listening. Indoors, there was no way to know who had his ear pressed to the wall in the next room over.
"Some wine?" Lawrence asked, gesturing to a chair.
Reynolds shook his head briefly but then reconsidered. "Perhaps just a bit. When I see that you're not drunk, Mr. Lawrence, it makes me think that coming here wasn't a waste of my time."
A traveler's room at an inn was not lavish enough to properly entertain a guest. Lawrence poured some wine into the cup Col had used and offered it to Reynolds, who smiled ingratiatingly.
"You're here about the narwhal...correct?"
For Reynolds to come all the way out to the inn at this hour, he must have concluded that Lawrence knew about it.
Lawrence had come to Reynolds's shop bearing Eve's introduction letter and asking about wolf bones—and anyone formidable enough to get such a letter from Eve would have had to know about the source of the commotion in Kerube.
At the same time, there was little point in asking how Reynolds had discovered where they were staying. Even Kieman, all the way across the river, had been able to uncover that much.
To a town merchant, the streets of their homes were like the strands of a spiderweb.
Lawrence mulled the situation over as he sat, and Reynolds nodded.
But now Reynolds was in the weaker position. "I haven't the faintest notion of what's happening. I was hoping that you, Mr. Lawrence, might know something."
Lawrence had once heard a drunken merchant long ago say that a woman could look so different in candlelight than in the midday sun, one could hardly believe it was the same person—and it was true for merchants, too.
Reynolds was acting every bit the panicked owner of a sad little shop, but no matter how panicked he might have been, there was still no reason for him to come to the inn room of Lawrence, a mere traveling merchant. And certainly not at this hour.
Much was being omitted from Reynolds's words.
"Unfortunately, I don't know any details myself..."
"You've been to the Lydon Inn, haven't you?"
If he was getting to the point so quickly, he must have been running out of time—or perhaps this was just how Reynolds did business.
Lawrence slowly turned his gaze elsewhere, then just as slowly, moved it back to Reynolds. "The Lydon Inn?"
He was better at deception now, probably a result of having spent so much time with Holo, who was first-rate at it.
Reynolds's expression froze, probably out of surprise that Lawrence was proving harder to take off guard than he had anticipated. "Lies benefit neither of us. I already know you've been there."
Reynolds set his cup down and opened his palms to Lawrence. It was a gesture inviting mutual openness but held no special meaning between merchants.
Lawrence thought.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Putting many meanings into a single word was her specialty.
Lawrence knew that no matter how he answered, he would be trapped, so he brushed her tail roughly aside as his only reply.
While the fewer people who knew about it made a secret more secure, it was another story entirely when one of the privy parties showed up himself for a secret late-night meeting.
It was the antithesis of Eve and Kieman's approach of sending others to contact Lawrence.
"Apologies for the late hour." Despite the cold, Reynolds's paunch made his breath run ragged and forehead sweaty, although some of that could be ascribed to nervousness.
His voice was low, but not out of consideration for Holo and Col, who were curled up together on the bed, sleeping.
"Shall we speak outside?" Lawrence asked, but Reynolds glanced over his shoulder at this, then looked back and shook this head. It was very like a town merchant not to want to speak of secrets out in the open.
By contrast, a traveling merchant preferred to have sensitive conversations out in a wide field or on a lonely road where a simple look was all it took to confirm that no one was listening. Indoors, there was no way to know who had his ear pressed to the wall in the next room over.
"Some wine?" Lawrence asked, gesturing to a chair.
Reynolds shook his head briefly but then reconsidered. "Perhaps just a bit. When I see that you're not drunk, Mr. Lawrence, it makes me think that coming here wasn't a waste of my time."
A traveler's room at an inn was not lavish enough to properly entertain a guest. Lawrence poured some wine into the cup Col had used and offered it to Reynolds, who smiled ingratiatingly.
"You're here about the narwhal...correct?"
For Reynolds to come all the way out to the inn at this hour, he must have concluded that Lawrence knew about it.
Lawrence had come to Reynolds's shop bearing Eve's introduction letter and asking about wolf bones—and anyone formidable enough to get such a letter from Eve would have had to know about the source of the commotion in Kerube.
At the same time, there was little point in asking how Reynolds had discovered where they were staying. Even Kieman, all the way across the river, had been able to uncover that much.
To a town merchant, the streets of their homes were like the strands of a spiderweb.
Lawrence mulled the situation over as he sat, and Reynolds nodded.
But now Reynolds was in the weaker position. "I haven't the faintest notion of what's happening. I was hoping that you, Mr. Lawrence, might know something."
Lawrence had once heard a drunken merchant long ago say that a woman could look so different in candlelight than in the midday sun, one could hardly believe it was the same person—and it was true for merchants, too.
Reynolds was acting every bit the panicked owner of a sad little shop, but no matter how panicked he might have been, there was still no reason for him to come to the inn room of Lawrence, a mere traveling merchant. And certainly not at this hour.
Much was being omitted from Reynolds's words.
"Unfortunately, I don't know any details myself..."
"You've been to the Lydon Inn, haven't you?"
If he was getting to the point so quickly, he must have been running out of time—or perhaps this was just how Reynolds did business.
Lawrence slowly turned his gaze elsewhere, then just as slowly, moved it back to Reynolds. "The Lydon Inn?"
He was better at deception now, probably a result of having spent so much time with Holo, who was first-rate at it.
Reynolds's expression froze, probably out of surprise that Lawrence was proving harder to take off guard than he had anticipated. "Lies benefit neither of us. I already know you've been there."
Reynolds set his cup down and opened his palms to Lawrence. It was a gesture inviting mutual openness but held no special meaning between merchants.
Lawrence thought.
| "I suppose if I were to say I went there for some friendly chatter, you wouldn't believe me, would you, Mr. Reynolds?" queried Lawrence with a small, tired sigh.
Even Holo, who could see through any lie, would have trouble determining the truth of those words. There were any number of ways to phrase things that made them mysterious, both truth and falsehood at once.
Lawrence continued. "I learned of the situation in the town from Eve. What I told her then was that she had quite a lot of nerve to summon me in such an easily misunderstood manner to such an easily misunderstood place amid such unrest."
The sound of rustling cloth came from the direction of the bed. It was Holo turning over—probably to hide the grin on her face.
Lawrence continued.
"Eve seems to be in a unique position in this town, and despite the placid expression on her face, her mind must be swirling with notions. But she did not see fit to tell me about them."
"Truly?" replied Reynolds immediately, his eyes widening with surprise.
"Truly." The more obvious the statement, the more persuasive it would be.
Reynolds peered at Lawrence, almost glaring at him, before finally relaxing and heaving a sigh. "...My apologies."
"Not at all. For you to be so worried, I assume you have some direct connection to all this?"
Changing the tone of the conversation was a common trick; Lawrence could not drop his guard just because Reynolds seemed to have relaxed.
"Quite the opposite. I'm worried precisely because I've been left entirely out." He sighed and shifted heavily in his chair.
Lawrence recalled that the Jean Company was having its profits sucked away by the landlords of the town.
In business, when things are going well, sometimes still more lucrative opportunities arise—but the opposite also holds true.
In such times, it is all too common to have friends abandon you. Such moments are frequent in the travels of merchants, whose lives often hang in the balance.
And Reynolds had conducted a successful business on the otherwise poorer north side of town, which had surely made him few friends—and now he lacked even the funds to gain support.
It was clear that when things came to a head, he would be left on his own.
"Still, I'm sure you've heard, haven't you? I've a good connection with the powerful men of this town," said Reynolds.
It would have been better for him if he had intended that remark simply to make himself sound more important. But the statement was heavy with implication. Reynolds had concluded that Lawrence had learned quite a bit about the town's situation from Eve.
Given that, if he had gone so far as to sneak all the way out here in the middle of the night to talk about the narwhal, then Lawrence could make a guess as to what he was thinking—essentially, either Eve would be an important figure in the tumult surrounding the narwhal or was at least in a position to gather information about it.
And many of the things Eve had revealed in her one-sided grumbling to Lawrence earlier in the day now gained the tint of truth.
"Given that you're in the copper trade, as far as that goes."
"Heh." Reynolds could not help but chuckle at Lawrence's roundabout statement, scratching his nose.
Lawrence had nothing to add and so sipped his wine. At length, Reynolds looked up and continued.
"Just as when you all came by to ask after the wolf bones, I thought maybe I could turn the tables," he said, rubbing his face.
Nothing is less reliable than a merchant's friendly smile, but Reynolds's smile seemed to lay his heart bare.
The Jean Company was still in dire straits, and Reynolds certainly wanted to free himself of the north side's yoke.
"I came with the slightest hope of connecting with the wolf of the Roam, but...heh, seems I've only caused a fuss," said Reynolds with a pathetic smile, his cheeks slackening.
Lawrence had nothing to say and could only smile in sympathy.
Silence then fell, which was broken at length by Holo's quiet sleep mumbling.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I suppose if I were to say I went there for some friendly chatter, you wouldn't believe me, would you, Mr. Reynolds?" queried Lawrence with a small, tired sigh.
Even Holo, who could see through any lie, would have trouble determining the truth of those words. There were any number of ways to phrase things that made them mysterious, both truth and falsehood at once.
Lawrence continued. "I learned of the situation in the town from Eve. What I told her then was that she had quite a lot of nerve to summon me in such an easily misunderstood manner to such an easily misunderstood place amid such unrest."
The sound of rustling cloth came from the direction of the bed. It was Holo turning over—probably to hide the grin on her face.
Lawrence continued.
"Eve seems to be in a unique position in this town, and despite the placid expression on her face, her mind must be swirling with notions. But she did not see fit to tell me about them."
"Truly?" replied Reynolds immediately, his eyes widening with surprise.
"Truly." The more obvious the statement, the more persuasive it would be.
Reynolds peered at Lawrence, almost glaring at him, before finally relaxing and heaving a sigh. "...My apologies."
"Not at all. For you to be so worried, I assume you have some direct connection to all this?"
Changing the tone of the conversation was a common trick; Lawrence could not drop his guard just because Reynolds seemed to have relaxed.
"Quite the opposite. I'm worried precisely because I've been left entirely out." He sighed and shifted heavily in his chair.
Lawrence recalled that the Jean Company was having its profits sucked away by the landlords of the town.
In business, when things are going well, sometimes still more lucrative opportunities arise—but the opposite also holds true.
In such times, it is all too common to have friends abandon you. Such moments are frequent in the travels of merchants, whose lives often hang in the balance.
And Reynolds had conducted a successful business on the otherwise poorer north side of town, which had surely made him few friends—and now he lacked even the funds to gain support.
It was clear that when things came to a head, he would be left on his own.
"Still, I'm sure you've heard, haven't you? I've a good connection with the powerful men of this town," said Reynolds.
It would have been better for him if he had intended that remark simply to make himself sound more important. But the statement was heavy with implication. Reynolds had concluded that Lawrence had learned quite a bit about the town's situation from Eve.
Given that, if he had gone so far as to sneak all the way out here in the middle of the night to talk about the narwhal, then Lawrence could make a guess as to what he was thinking—essentially, either Eve would be an important figure in the tumult surrounding the narwhal or was at least in a position to gather information about it.
And many of the things Eve had revealed in her one-sided grumbling to Lawrence earlier in the day now gained the tint of truth.
"Given that you're in the copper trade, as far as that goes."
"Heh." Reynolds could not help but chuckle at Lawrence's roundabout statement, scratching his nose.
Lawrence had nothing to add and so sipped his wine. At length, Reynolds looked up and continued.
"Just as when you all came by to ask after the wolf bones, I thought maybe I could turn the tables," he said, rubbing his face.
Nothing is less reliable than a merchant's friendly smile, but Reynolds's smile seemed to lay his heart bare.
The Jean Company was still in dire straits, and Reynolds certainly wanted to free himself of the north side's yoke.
"I came with the slightest hope of connecting with the wolf of the Roam, but...heh, seems I've only caused a fuss," said Reynolds with a pathetic smile, his cheeks slackening.
Lawrence had nothing to say and could only smile in sympathy.
Silence then fell, which was broken at length by Holo's quiet sleep mumbling.
| Lawrence didn't want to admit it, but for Reynolds to have come all the way to the inn at this hour, he must have exhausted all other options and come to the end of his rope.
The furtiveness of his visit was not because he needed to keep their meeting a secret, but rather that he did not want anyone to see him reduced to asking an outsider for help.
When this occurred to Lawrence, Reynolds's sagging cheeks seemed somehow very sad indeed.
"Not at all. I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help."
"And I'm sorry, too, that I couldn't give you any good answers to your questions."
They each smiled as though trying to be considerate of the other as they exchanged words across the table.
Their smiles turned sheepish at the sudden silence that descended. They shook hands.
"Should you meet the wolf again, tell her that Reynolds has a bone to pick with her."
"Yes...quite. I'll do that," Lawrence answered, forcing the smile from his face.
"Again, I'm truly sorry for the late hour," Reynolds said, making one last apology as he headed for the room's door, his footsteps much heavier than they had been when he arrived. "Good night to you."
In the dark hallway, Lawrence watched him put his coat back on. "Good night," he replied.
Reynolds descended the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
Despite his shop in the town and his monopoly over the copper trade, which would provide a lifetime of security, there was something about watching Reynolds recede that made the man seem like a defeated man, an abandoned dog. It was just too sad.
Lawrence returned to the room, sighing softly and sitting back down in his chair. His elbow on the table, he sipped some wine and reviewed the conversation in his mind. The weight of the situation bore down on him yet again.
Even Reynolds, a merchant with a fair amount of power, was that desperate in his pursuit of the narwhal.
Or no—perhaps there was a better way to put it.
He was this desperate for it.
"Well...time for bed, I suppose," Lawrence murmured to himself, blowing out the candle and making for his bed.
He passed first by the bed in which Col and Holo slept and then put his hand on his own bed. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up, sighing helplessly.
His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, but he could see Holo's open eyes in the bed next to his.
"So he's gone, has he?" she said, seeming to disappear for a moment, probably because she had turned in the opposite direction.
Lawrence closed his eyes briefly. "Sorry to put you through all that," he said.
"Still, I was relieved you did not speak up to me immediately after," said an amused Holo, sitting on the bed.
As Lawrence had guessed, Reynolds had probably crept quietly back up the stairs and pressed his ear to the door, in case Lawrence were to tell the truth of the situation to Holo or Col.
"I suppose I'm not surprised," said Lawrence, smiling. "I suppose I did well, then."
"Heh-heh. He was acting so truly sad that I nearly fell for it myself. I wouldn't have thought him capable of such guile!"
"Merchants carry items both hot and cold in their purses. While his feelings may have been true, he won't be giving up just yet."
"Merchants are rather stubborn creatures, are they not?"
"They surely are." Lawrence grinned. "But"—he added—"what do you think Reynolds's true goal was?" He ventured to put the question to Holo, since he had already figured it out for himself.
Holo's answer was immediate. "He wishes to contact the vixen. He'll do anything to do it."
"So that's really it..."
"What are you thinking?" Holo grinned maliciously as she pushed off the bed with her hands. Despite her question, her face made it clear she already knew the answer.
"Nothing. I only thought it was an interesting conversation."
Holo continued to smile as she flicked her ears, obviously able to tell the half-truth from the half-lie.
Merchants put both hot things and cold things in their purses.
At a loss for anything else, Lawrence put his hands behind his head.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence didn't want to admit it, but for Reynolds to have come all the way to the inn at this hour, he must have exhausted all other options and come to the end of his rope.
The furtiveness of his visit was not because he needed to keep their meeting a secret, but rather that he did not want anyone to see him reduced to asking an outsider for help.
When this occurred to Lawrence, Reynolds's sagging cheeks seemed somehow very sad indeed.
"Not at all. I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help."
"And I'm sorry, too, that I couldn't give you any good answers to your questions."
They each smiled as though trying to be considerate of the other as they exchanged words across the table.
Their smiles turned sheepish at the sudden silence that descended. They shook hands.
"Should you meet the wolf again, tell her that Reynolds has a bone to pick with her."
"Yes...quite. I'll do that," Lawrence answered, forcing the smile from his face.
"Again, I'm truly sorry for the late hour," Reynolds said, making one last apology as he headed for the room's door, his footsteps much heavier than they had been when he arrived. "Good night to you."
In the dark hallway, Lawrence watched him put his coat back on. "Good night," he replied.
Reynolds descended the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
Despite his shop in the town and his monopoly over the copper trade, which would provide a lifetime of security, there was something about watching Reynolds recede that made the man seem like a defeated man, an abandoned dog. It was just too sad.
Lawrence returned to the room, sighing softly and sitting back down in his chair. His elbow on the table, he sipped some wine and reviewed the conversation in his mind. The weight of the situation bore down on him yet again.
Even Reynolds, a merchant with a fair amount of power, was that desperate in his pursuit of the narwhal.
Or no—perhaps there was a better way to put it.
He was this desperate for it.
"Well...time for bed, I suppose," Lawrence murmured to himself, blowing out the candle and making for his bed.
He passed first by the bed in which Col and Holo slept and then put his hand on his own bed. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up, sighing helplessly.
His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, but he could see Holo's open eyes in the bed next to his.
"So he's gone, has he?" she said, seeming to disappear for a moment, probably because she had turned in the opposite direction.
Lawrence closed his eyes briefly. "Sorry to put you through all that," he said.
"Still, I was relieved you did not speak up to me immediately after," said an amused Holo, sitting on the bed.
As Lawrence had guessed, Reynolds had probably crept quietly back up the stairs and pressed his ear to the door, in case Lawrence were to tell the truth of the situation to Holo or Col.
"I suppose I'm not surprised," said Lawrence, smiling. "I suppose I did well, then."
"Heh-heh. He was acting so truly sad that I nearly fell for it myself. I wouldn't have thought him capable of such guile!"
"Merchants carry items both hot and cold in their purses. While his feelings may have been true, he won't be giving up just yet."
"Merchants are rather stubborn creatures, are they not?"
"They surely are." Lawrence grinned. "But"—he added—"what do you think Reynolds's true goal was?" He ventured to put the question to Holo, since he had already figured it out for himself.
Holo's answer was immediate. "He wishes to contact the vixen. He'll do anything to do it."
"So that's really it..."
"What are you thinking?" Holo grinned maliciously as she pushed off the bed with her hands. Despite her question, her face made it clear she already knew the answer.
"Nothing. I only thought it was an interesting conversation."
Holo continued to smile as she flicked her ears, obviously able to tell the half-truth from the half-lie.
Merchants put both hot things and cold things in their purses.
At a loss for anything else, Lawrence put his hands behind his head.
| No matter how easily Holo might see through him, he still had his pride as a man—but Holo could no doubt already tell that was exactly what he was thinking.
She sat beside him on the bed, smiling a full, bright smile.
If he went along with her on this, no doubt the wisewolf would be very pleased indeed. But that was only as long as his curiosity was greater than his fear.
Holo had but to playfully tug at the facade and it would come tumbling down. It was too miserable to imagine.
If it came to that, this carefully balanced feeling of play would be destroyed.
"I'm going to sleep," said Lawrence, turning his back to Holo and lying down.
If the mood turned sour, he would be able to sense it.
But Holo only swished her tail once and said a quiet "Good night."
The sound of her rustling beneath the covers was strangely loud.
Holo would not break her favorite toy.
Which meant Lawrence's course of action was clear.
He loved seeing her happy, so he would be the toughest toy he possibly could.
The next morning.
Lawrence was no Holo, but he did have premonitions of his own sometimes.
One came as Holo put an extra-large piece of cheese atop the rye bread left over from the provisions they had laid in for their river journey; she excused this by saying she was finishing up leftovers.
Even Col had to laugh at her wolfing the bread down, until Holo's face went pale and her smile disappeared.
Lawrence wondered if she had bit her tongue, but fortunately before he could say so, he understood the true cause.
The innkeeper, who should have been busy seeing off departing patrons or tending to breakfast service, had come to visit their room.
Had that been all, Holo would have been content to cover herself with her robe.
But Lawrence caught a sudden, meaningful glance from her, and when Col opened the door, the innkeeper was indeed there—accompanied by one other.
"Good morning, Mr. Lawrence" came a steady, clear voice matching its owner's confidence.
Dressed impeccably, it was none other than Lud Kieman.
"...Good morning to you," replied Lawrence, by which time the innkeeper had already accepted a few silver coins from Kieman.
They were nothing to Kieman, who offered them by way of a vague apology for bothering the innkeeper during his busy morning. And although he made it seem quite natural, he was purposely allowing Lawrence to witness this display.
"I see you're taking breakfast. My apologies for the interruption."
Lawrence got the distinct sense that Kieman was thinking, You're a mere merchant, and yet you take breakfast like a nobleman? but decided he was being paranoid. From the perspective of people who lived in a town that had no tradition of breakfast, he knew they found the idea of eating just after rising to be bizarre.
"Not at all—we're nearly done. What can I do for you?"
There were a limited number of reasons why Kieman would go to the trouble of visiting after sending that letter.
Given that Lawrence had not fled, it was reasonable to conclude he was going to cooperate. But from Kieman's point of view, their current location was a den of treacherous temptations, and so Lawrence was quite sure they would be taken to the south side.
Kieman stared openly across the room, and with a voice like a child pleased at being able to deliver a clever answer, replied, "Might we conduct this outside? I feel as though a mouse might appear in here at any moment."
Lawrence did not have to wonder what he meant by that.
While mice might make pleasant companions for a traveler taking a lonely meal out on the road, for those who stored goods in town, they were practically demons.
Kieman was either worried about eavesdroppers or he sincerely hated mice.
"If possible, I'd like to leave the inn. As for your things...ah, they seem to be ready."
Lawrence knew perfectly well that the "if possible" was simply for politeness's sake. He had accepted that. He was, however, a bit concerned that his bags were packed a bit too neatly there in the corner.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | No matter how easily Holo might see through him, he still had his pride as a man—but Holo could no doubt already tell that was exactly what he was thinking.
She sat beside him on the bed, smiling a full, bright smile.
If he went along with her on this, no doubt the wisewolf would be very pleased indeed. But that was only as long as his curiosity was greater than his fear.
Holo had but to playfully tug at the facade and it would come tumbling down. It was too miserable to imagine.
If it came to that, this carefully balanced feeling of play would be destroyed.
"I'm going to sleep," said Lawrence, turning his back to Holo and lying down.
If the mood turned sour, he would be able to sense it.
But Holo only swished her tail once and said a quiet "Good night."
The sound of her rustling beneath the covers was strangely loud.
Holo would not break her favorite toy.
Which meant Lawrence's course of action was clear.
He loved seeing her happy, so he would be the toughest toy he possibly could.
The next morning.
Lawrence was no Holo, but he did have premonitions of his own sometimes.
One came as Holo put an extra-large piece of cheese atop the rye bread left over from the provisions they had laid in for their river journey; she excused this by saying she was finishing up leftovers.
Even Col had to laugh at her wolfing the bread down, until Holo's face went pale and her smile disappeared.
Lawrence wondered if she had bit her tongue, but fortunately before he could say so, he understood the true cause.
The innkeeper, who should have been busy seeing off departing patrons or tending to breakfast service, had come to visit their room.
Had that been all, Holo would have been content to cover herself with her robe.
But Lawrence caught a sudden, meaningful glance from her, and when Col opened the door, the innkeeper was indeed there—accompanied by one other.
"Good morning, Mr. Lawrence" came a steady, clear voice matching its owner's confidence.
Dressed impeccably, it was none other than Lud Kieman.
"...Good morning to you," replied Lawrence, by which time the innkeeper had already accepted a few silver coins from Kieman.
They were nothing to Kieman, who offered them by way of a vague apology for bothering the innkeeper during his busy morning. And although he made it seem quite natural, he was purposely allowing Lawrence to witness this display.
"I see you're taking breakfast. My apologies for the interruption."
Lawrence got the distinct sense that Kieman was thinking, You're a mere merchant, and yet you take breakfast like a nobleman? but decided he was being paranoid. From the perspective of people who lived in a town that had no tradition of breakfast, he knew they found the idea of eating just after rising to be bizarre.
"Not at all—we're nearly done. What can I do for you?"
There were a limited number of reasons why Kieman would go to the trouble of visiting after sending that letter.
Given that Lawrence had not fled, it was reasonable to conclude he was going to cooperate. But from Kieman's point of view, their current location was a den of treacherous temptations, and so Lawrence was quite sure they would be taken to the south side.
Kieman stared openly across the room, and with a voice like a child pleased at being able to deliver a clever answer, replied, "Might we conduct this outside? I feel as though a mouse might appear in here at any moment."
Lawrence did not have to wonder what he meant by that.
While mice might make pleasant companions for a traveler taking a lonely meal out on the road, for those who stored goods in town, they were practically demons.
Kieman was either worried about eavesdroppers or he sincerely hated mice.
"If possible, I'd like to leave the inn. As for your things...ah, they seem to be ready."
Lawrence knew perfectly well that the "if possible" was simply for politeness's sake. He had accepted that. He was, however, a bit concerned that his bags were packed a bit too neatly there in the corner.
| "I shall await you downstairs, then." Whether or not Kieman had noticed what the bags' readiness implied, he turned on his heel and left the room.
A nobleman's arrival was pompous, and his departure was quick—and Lawrence felt as if he had just witnessed a perfect example of this.
"Hmph. He seems like something you'd loathe," said Holo.
"Doesn't he?"
Holo flicked her ears as she popped the last bite of bread into her mouth—perhaps Kieman had rubbed her the wrong way as well.
"Huh...? I thought he was sort of handsome...," said Col.
Lawrence and Holo looked at each other and then advanced upon the boy together, speaking in unison: "You mustn't grow up to be like him."
Col blinked rapidly before giving an uncertain nod.
Descending to the first floor, they found Kieman, who seemed to have been discussing something with the innkeeper.
"Now then, shall we leave through the back door and board the carriage?"
He seemed to know that Lawrence had entered the inn through the back door after receiving the letter from Eve.
Given that Lawrence had spoken of his acquaintance with Eve, Kieman must have considered the possibility that he was spying for her. Nevertheless, he seemed to regard Lawrence as useful.
"I was unable to prepare a covered carriage—my apologies. Ah, please, do get in."
The carriage that waited alongside the inn could seat six people and was very fine indeed.
The driver was an old, bearded man with one eye, and he gave Lawrence a brief look before silently turning his gaze forward again.
It was not uncommon for sailors who had dabbled in piracy to find work in port towns after injuries or old age brought an end to their sailing careers.
The driver's left hand was missing a pinkie and ring finger, and the back of his hand was covered in scars.
He seemed usefully silent.
The carriage had seats facing both forward and backward, so Lawrence and company faced the direction of their travel while Kieman sat opposite them.
"Now, to the port," said Kieman, and the driver gave a quiet nod. The carriage began moving. "So, as to my reason for coming here this morning."
"The best trades are made in enemy territory, I assumed."
Kieman's face froze in a smile at Lawrence's interruption, and he then nodded, impressed.
He clearly did not take Lawrence seriously and was just as clearly surprised by such a reply—Lawrence was supposed to be thoroughly cowed by now.
And naturally, had Holo not been there, Lawrence would indeed have been withering.
"Ah, yes, just so. When there's trouble in the town, people like us are prohibited from crossing the river in order to prevent the trouble from escalating. Further communication is usually done via notes attached to arrows, but this time both sides require haste. It's been decided to resolve the dispute on the delta. We young ones are just the heralds, you see. Right about now, the others are consulting with the landlords to decide upon a schedule for the proceedings."
Most likely Kieman's ilk, who so enjoyed the attention, would be gathering on the north side of town, each of them trying to take advantage of the situation in order to improve the standing of his own name or the name of his company.
The only reason Kieman himself was not there was his confidence that he was above them all and that only he possessed the means to meet with Eve.
"May I presume that the source of all this commotion is the narwhal?" Lawrence asked, at which Kieman seemed unsurprised.
Quite the contrary, he looked pleased not to have to explain the situation. "Yes, exactly. They say a narwhal's horn is even better for gout than the heart blood of a fowl. You can imagine just how much the nobility would want something like that."
"Indeed, given that gout is the punishment for gluttony, one of the Church's seven deadly sins." Lawrence was relaxed enough to even aim a few words at Holo.
He was still wary, knowing that Kieman's words could not be trusted, but the unreasoning fear he had felt earlier was gone.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I shall await you downstairs, then." Whether or not Kieman had noticed what the bags' readiness implied, he turned on his heel and left the room.
A nobleman's arrival was pompous, and his departure was quick—and Lawrence felt as if he had just witnessed a perfect example of this.
"Hmph. He seems like something you'd loathe," said Holo.
"Doesn't he?"
Holo flicked her ears as she popped the last bite of bread into her mouth—perhaps Kieman had rubbed her the wrong way as well.
"Huh...? I thought he was sort of handsome...," said Col.
Lawrence and Holo looked at each other and then advanced upon the boy together, speaking in unison: "You mustn't grow up to be like him."
Col blinked rapidly before giving an uncertain nod.
Descending to the first floor, they found Kieman, who seemed to have been discussing something with the innkeeper.
"Now then, shall we leave through the back door and board the carriage?"
He seemed to know that Lawrence had entered the inn through the back door after receiving the letter from Eve.
Given that Lawrence had spoken of his acquaintance with Eve, Kieman must have considered the possibility that he was spying for her. Nevertheless, he seemed to regard Lawrence as useful.
"I was unable to prepare a covered carriage—my apologies. Ah, please, do get in."
The carriage that waited alongside the inn could seat six people and was very fine indeed.
The driver was an old, bearded man with one eye, and he gave Lawrence a brief look before silently turning his gaze forward again.
It was not uncommon for sailors who had dabbled in piracy to find work in port towns after injuries or old age brought an end to their sailing careers.
The driver's left hand was missing a pinkie and ring finger, and the back of his hand was covered in scars.
He seemed usefully silent.
The carriage had seats facing both forward and backward, so Lawrence and company faced the direction of their travel while Kieman sat opposite them.
"Now, to the port," said Kieman, and the driver gave a quiet nod. The carriage began moving. "So, as to my reason for coming here this morning."
"The best trades are made in enemy territory, I assumed."
Kieman's face froze in a smile at Lawrence's interruption, and he then nodded, impressed.
He clearly did not take Lawrence seriously and was just as clearly surprised by such a reply—Lawrence was supposed to be thoroughly cowed by now.
And naturally, had Holo not been there, Lawrence would indeed have been withering.
"Ah, yes, just so. When there's trouble in the town, people like us are prohibited from crossing the river in order to prevent the trouble from escalating. Further communication is usually done via notes attached to arrows, but this time both sides require haste. It's been decided to resolve the dispute on the delta. We young ones are just the heralds, you see. Right about now, the others are consulting with the landlords to decide upon a schedule for the proceedings."
Most likely Kieman's ilk, who so enjoyed the attention, would be gathering on the north side of town, each of them trying to take advantage of the situation in order to improve the standing of his own name or the name of his company.
The only reason Kieman himself was not there was his confidence that he was above them all and that only he possessed the means to meet with Eve.
"May I presume that the source of all this commotion is the narwhal?" Lawrence asked, at which Kieman seemed unsurprised.
Quite the contrary, he looked pleased not to have to explain the situation. "Yes, exactly. They say a narwhal's horn is even better for gout than the heart blood of a fowl. You can imagine just how much the nobility would want something like that."
"Indeed, given that gout is the punishment for gluttony, one of the Church's seven deadly sins." Lawrence was relaxed enough to even aim a few words at Holo.
He was still wary, knowing that Kieman's words could not be trusted, but the unreasoning fear he had felt earlier was gone.
| "So you're prepared for battle, then?"
Kieman's eyes narrowed as he smiled. "Quite."
The carriage emerged from a narrow street onto a wide avenue that ran alongside the river.
Not so much time had passed, but large numbers of people inconvenienced by the prohibition on river crossing had begun to appear. Lawrence wondered if the prohibition had been lifted since from the fine view of the river the avenue afforded, he could see ferries filled with people making their way across.
"Incidentally," said Kieman as the salt-scented breeze ruffled his fine blond hair, "how much did you discuss with Miss Eve?"
Lawrence got the sense that this was the threshold. He feigned an open smile. "Er, Miss Eve...?"
He could hardly fail to miss the twitch at Kieman's temple.
"Ah, I'm sorry. My mistake," said Kieman, falling silent and turning his attention to the river.
Given the region of town where Lawrence had been staying, it was obvious with whom he'd met. Kieman was trying to draw the truth out and thereby slip a leash around Lawrence's neck.
Kieman's sudden silence was because he had underestimated Lawrence.
Or perhaps he was considering a different use for Lawrence, who was cleverer than Kieman had imagined.
Lawrence spoke next, but not because he thought he could suddenly overwhelm Kieman. "Speaking of Miss Eve, I did chat with her a bit at the spring of gold."
"...Did you?" Kieman looked over at Lawrence casually. His eyes were the cold, profit-calculating eyes of a merchant who could look at another human and see only what he hoped to gain.
"She said there was nothing so troublesome as being sold something that can't be bought with money."
For the first time, Kieman looked surprised. "I'll bet," he said with a smile.
Lawrence had no intention of opposing Kieman.
The reason he insinuated Eve's being pursued by the landlord's son was to hide the true subject of their conversation, given that he could not hope to disguise that the conversation had occurred.
Now everything depended on what Kieman did. Lawrence was confident he had gotten that across.
Kieman was silent after that, which in itself was response enough.
If he had underestimated Lawrence's significance, he would have to change his plans.
They all boarded a ferry and crossed to the south side of the river.
As they waited for Kieman to pay the boatman, Holo stepped on Lawrence's foot playfully, as though reminding him not to get too full of himself.
He knew she was confident in him but did not want him to be overconfident.
He had taken the best course of action he could think of, but his palms were still sweaty.
While on the south side the buildings were uniformly built and aligned and the paving stones clean and straight, the scenery here was very different, and for the first time Lawrence realized he was no longer on friendly ground.
"Well, shall we go?"
Led on by Kieman, Lawrence and his companions moved deeper into enemy territory.
***
"I vow not to cause any inconveniences."
They were led to a five-story inn not far from the Rowen Trade Guild. Its entrance and interior were both very familiar looking, so it was probably commonly used by members of the guild. Lawrence and company were shown to a room on the third floor, which faced the inn's courtyard.
There were no complaints about the room, and compared to the inn on the north side that Eve had recommended, the atmosphere of the place—where they would evidently be allowed to stay free of charge—was far better.
But Kieman's words could not be taken at face value.
He probably meant that he would not keep them under surveillance in a way that would cause them inconvenience.
"Should you need anything, please tell the innkeeper. And if you would be so kind as to inform us of your destination should you leave the inn, you'll avoid any unfortunate encounters."
Lawrence had expected not to be allowed to leave at all, so these words came as a surprise.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "So you're prepared for battle, then?"
Kieman's eyes narrowed as he smiled. "Quite."
The carriage emerged from a narrow street onto a wide avenue that ran alongside the river.
Not so much time had passed, but large numbers of people inconvenienced by the prohibition on river crossing had begun to appear. Lawrence wondered if the prohibition had been lifted since from the fine view of the river the avenue afforded, he could see ferries filled with people making their way across.
"Incidentally," said Kieman as the salt-scented breeze ruffled his fine blond hair, "how much did you discuss with Miss Eve?"
Lawrence got the sense that this was the threshold. He feigned an open smile. "Er, Miss Eve...?"
He could hardly fail to miss the twitch at Kieman's temple.
"Ah, I'm sorry. My mistake," said Kieman, falling silent and turning his attention to the river.
Given the region of town where Lawrence had been staying, it was obvious with whom he'd met. Kieman was trying to draw the truth out and thereby slip a leash around Lawrence's neck.
Kieman's sudden silence was because he had underestimated Lawrence.
Or perhaps he was considering a different use for Lawrence, who was cleverer than Kieman had imagined.
Lawrence spoke next, but not because he thought he could suddenly overwhelm Kieman. "Speaking of Miss Eve, I did chat with her a bit at the spring of gold."
"...Did you?" Kieman looked over at Lawrence casually. His eyes were the cold, profit-calculating eyes of a merchant who could look at another human and see only what he hoped to gain.
"She said there was nothing so troublesome as being sold something that can't be bought with money."
For the first time, Kieman looked surprised. "I'll bet," he said with a smile.
Lawrence had no intention of opposing Kieman.
The reason he insinuated Eve's being pursued by the landlord's son was to hide the true subject of their conversation, given that he could not hope to disguise that the conversation had occurred.
Now everything depended on what Kieman did. Lawrence was confident he had gotten that across.
Kieman was silent after that, which in itself was response enough.
If he had underestimated Lawrence's significance, he would have to change his plans.
They all boarded a ferry and crossed to the south side of the river.
As they waited for Kieman to pay the boatman, Holo stepped on Lawrence's foot playfully, as though reminding him not to get too full of himself.
He knew she was confident in him but did not want him to be overconfident.
He had taken the best course of action he could think of, but his palms were still sweaty.
While on the south side the buildings were uniformly built and aligned and the paving stones clean and straight, the scenery here was very different, and for the first time Lawrence realized he was no longer on friendly ground.
"Well, shall we go?"
Led on by Kieman, Lawrence and his companions moved deeper into enemy territory.
***
"I vow not to cause any inconveniences."
They were led to a five-story inn not far from the Rowen Trade Guild. Its entrance and interior were both very familiar looking, so it was probably commonly used by members of the guild. Lawrence and company were shown to a room on the third floor, which faced the inn's courtyard.
There were no complaints about the room, and compared to the inn on the north side that Eve had recommended, the atmosphere of the place—where they would evidently be allowed to stay free of charge—was far better.
But Kieman's words could not be taken at face value.
He probably meant that he would not keep them under surveillance in a way that would cause them inconvenience.
"Should you need anything, please tell the innkeeper. And if you would be so kind as to inform us of your destination should you leave the inn, you'll avoid any unfortunate encounters."
Lawrence had expected not to be allowed to leave at all, so these words came as a surprise.
| And that confidence was probably justified.
Lawrence hid such thoughts behind his merchant's mask and answered with a simple "Understood."
"Well, then, please be at ease and enjoy your stay," said Kieman with a smile; then he turned before anyone could reply and closed the door behind him.
Lawrence, taken aback, stared at the door for a few moments.
He had assumed that Kieman would explain what role he expected Lawrence to play in his view and Eve's, but instead the issue had been completely evaded.
"...What was that all about?" Lawrence scratched his head and sighed and then noticed that Holo was rolling happily around on the bed. Meanwhile, Col had his hand on that same bed and a look of surprise on his face.
"What are you doing?" Lawrence asked, and Col turned to him, eyes shining.
"Cotton! It's filled with cotton!"
"Cotton?"
"Come, lie upon it yourself! 'Tis soft, like a cloud."
If the beds used cotton, then the room would have cost quite a bit if Lawrence had been paying for it himself.
Given Kieman's enthusiasm and the basic principles of return on investment, it meant that he expected to use Lawrence in a way that would earn him more than this room was costing.
The size of this exchange was becoming more and more concrete.
Now that it had been pointed out, Lawrence noticed that the room itself was quite fine. He approached the window and saw that its joints were very tight so as to block drafts. When he opened it, he could look down onto a lovely courtyard where many flowers bloomed despite the season.
***
Given all this, the food served at this inn would likely be quite luxurious as well.
Lawrence was not unfamiliar with such methods. If one compensated someone only as well as his station demanded, he would do only what was expected of them. But if he were showered with overwhelming generosity, his embarrassment would make him easy to control, and this would force him to put forward extraordinary effort.
The fear that Lawrence had bottled up began to creep back into his view.
At the very least, should he have asked Kieman for an explanation?
He mulled it over as he turned his gaze back into the room from the courtyard, when—
"Fool," said Holo, startling Lawrence so thoroughly he nearly fell out of the window.
"Wh-what—"
"That's what I should be asking you! What are you doing with that serious expression of yours? You're staying here in a room far beyond your purse's means to let, yet you cannot enjoy it?" demanded Holo, sounding annoyed.
Behind her, Col looked on nervously as he sat on the cotton-stuffed bed.
"Well, I..."
Lawrence stumbled over his words, and Holo stabbed her index finger at his chest, continuing to talk.
"You truly are a weakling when it comes to such things. Why do you think that nasty little whelp left you here without explaining anything? There won't be anything like last night's eavesdropper, either. Our whelp is a bit more interesting than that."
Holo turned to the door, continuing to show her fangs.
"If the explanation you gave me is correct, he's still mistrustful of you. And 'tis a fact you've a connection to that vixen. So what does it mean that he's brought you to his territory and is trying to make you one of his pawns? Naturally, he must make sure you haven't any strings attached."
It all made perfect sense, but none of it explained why there had been no explanation of any sort. "Is it just that he didn't explain anything because he can't trust me?" Lawrence asked, which made Holo smile an unfriendly smile.
That was not the answer.
His punishment was having his beard yanked.
"At the very least, you've been brought to the territory of one you cannot be sure is friend or foe, and you have been left to your own devices—so what would you normally do? Aren't you in the habit of gathering information when you arrive in a new town?"
Still behind Holo, Col listened to her lecture, fascinated.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | And that confidence was probably justified.
Lawrence hid such thoughts behind his merchant's mask and answered with a simple "Understood."
"Well, then, please be at ease and enjoy your stay," said Kieman with a smile; then he turned before anyone could reply and closed the door behind him.
Lawrence, taken aback, stared at the door for a few moments.
He had assumed that Kieman would explain what role he expected Lawrence to play in his view and Eve's, but instead the issue had been completely evaded.
"...What was that all about?" Lawrence scratched his head and sighed and then noticed that Holo was rolling happily around on the bed. Meanwhile, Col had his hand on that same bed and a look of surprise on his face.
"What are you doing?" Lawrence asked, and Col turned to him, eyes shining.
"Cotton! It's filled with cotton!"
"Cotton?"
"Come, lie upon it yourself! 'Tis soft, like a cloud."
If the beds used cotton, then the room would have cost quite a bit if Lawrence had been paying for it himself.
Given Kieman's enthusiasm and the basic principles of return on investment, it meant that he expected to use Lawrence in a way that would earn him more than this room was costing.
The size of this exchange was becoming more and more concrete.
Now that it had been pointed out, Lawrence noticed that the room itself was quite fine. He approached the window and saw that its joints were very tight so as to block drafts. When he opened it, he could look down onto a lovely courtyard where many flowers bloomed despite the season.
***
Given all this, the food served at this inn would likely be quite luxurious as well.
Lawrence was not unfamiliar with such methods. If one compensated someone only as well as his station demanded, he would do only what was expected of them. But if he were showered with overwhelming generosity, his embarrassment would make him easy to control, and this would force him to put forward extraordinary effort.
The fear that Lawrence had bottled up began to creep back into his view.
At the very least, should he have asked Kieman for an explanation?
He mulled it over as he turned his gaze back into the room from the courtyard, when—
"Fool," said Holo, startling Lawrence so thoroughly he nearly fell out of the window.
"Wh-what—"
"That's what I should be asking you! What are you doing with that serious expression of yours? You're staying here in a room far beyond your purse's means to let, yet you cannot enjoy it?" demanded Holo, sounding annoyed.
Behind her, Col looked on nervously as he sat on the cotton-stuffed bed.
"Well, I..."
Lawrence stumbled over his words, and Holo stabbed her index finger at his chest, continuing to talk.
"You truly are a weakling when it comes to such things. Why do you think that nasty little whelp left you here without explaining anything? There won't be anything like last night's eavesdropper, either. Our whelp is a bit more interesting than that."
Holo turned to the door, continuing to show her fangs.
"If the explanation you gave me is correct, he's still mistrustful of you. And 'tis a fact you've a connection to that vixen. So what does it mean that he's brought you to his territory and is trying to make you one of his pawns? Naturally, he must make sure you haven't any strings attached."
It all made perfect sense, but none of it explained why there had been no explanation of any sort. "Is it just that he didn't explain anything because he can't trust me?" Lawrence asked, which made Holo smile an unfriendly smile.
That was not the answer.
His punishment was having his beard yanked.
"At the very least, you've been brought to the territory of one you cannot be sure is friend or foe, and you have been left to your own devices—so what would you normally do? Aren't you in the habit of gathering information when you arrive in a new town?"
Still behind Holo, Col listened to her lecture, fascinated.
| He did.
But nothing was coming to mind.
As he stammered, the wisewolf released his beard and crossed her arms, continuing on.
"On that count, humans and wolves are no different. You seek the counsel of those you know or those you trust. In other words, you navigate unfamiliar territory using the map within your mind. The minds of humans and beasts cannot be seen, but when they move, those movements make it quite clear what sort of map they possess. Just like my ears and tail or your beard."
The beard part was a joke, but he could not help stroking it in thought.
"So in essence—" Holo said.
If he could not come up with an answer here, he was quite sure that Holo would take Col in hand and head straight for Yoitsu.
In the hairsbreadth gap Holo had left after her words, Lawrence slid in and took the opportunity. "He's trying to see what I'll do when put in an uncertain situation."
***
Holo fell silent for a moment, perhaps having swallowed her rebuke at his slowness to answer. "Quite...Honestly, the only reason to put us all up in such a fine room is—"
"—To make us sweat."
Holo's shoulders slackened, and she flicked her ears and looked over her shoulder.
Col, every bit the serious student, gave a slow, wide-eyed nod.
"So, what then shall we do?"
Col was momentarily stunned into silence by the sudden question.
He immediately and furiously started thinking of how to answer, while Holo's wagging tale made it clear she expected Lawrence to speak up.
It was like tossing a bone in front of a dog.
Even though he knew he was being baited, he could not help it.
She had two males in the palm of her hand and was making them vie with each other for the sheer fun of it.
"We should act as usual and enjoy the fine treatment." Lawrence's words were just an instant quicker—although worryingly, Col had opened his mouth and appeared nearly ready to answer himself.
Holo looked at Col for a moment, then slowly turned back to regard Lawrence, a smile dancing about the corners of her mouth as if to say, "Not bad."
"If we truly mean to support Kieman through and through, then this isn't enemy territory—it's our home base, and there's nothing to fear," he continued. Holo nodded with satisfaction, her ears flicking, as though she had found the treasure for which she had been searching.
Lawrence looked past Holo to Col and asked, "Was that what you were going to say?" which made the boy smile, nodding with only a touch of sheepishness.
"Also, what would you do if the person on whom you'd lain an important duty seemed about to fall under the weight? Could you calmly continue to let them labor, eh?" Holo prodded.
Thus far, Lawrence had always bought and sold on his own, bearing every risk and worry himself, so the matter had never really occurred to him. The very notion of using someone else was so far from his mind that such thoughts were immediately abandoned.
As long as it was within his reach, Lawrence was more or less confident in his ability to fight. But there were those in the world who used spears longer than their arms—to say nothing of bows and arrows. And battles were won by generals who never even had to lay hands upon a sword.
Holo had long been such a leader.
"When I did such things myself, I nary used such roundabout, bothersome methods." She grinned, flashing her pure white fangs. "I am Holo. Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu!" she said, hands on her hips, chest flung proudly out.
It had been some time since she had bragged like this, but to be boastful and proud was indeed very Holo-like. And given the admiration with which Col was gazing at her, it was surely just what was called for—since if she were too wise a wolf, she would not be able to indulge in this childish boasting.
"Now then. What do you suggest we do?"
Here was Holo's true aim.
Lawrence found the words drawn out of him. "We go out and enjoy ourselves."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He did.
But nothing was coming to mind.
As he stammered, the wisewolf released his beard and crossed her arms, continuing on.
"On that count, humans and wolves are no different. You seek the counsel of those you know or those you trust. In other words, you navigate unfamiliar territory using the map within your mind. The minds of humans and beasts cannot be seen, but when they move, those movements make it quite clear what sort of map they possess. Just like my ears and tail or your beard."
The beard part was a joke, but he could not help stroking it in thought.
"So in essence—" Holo said.
If he could not come up with an answer here, he was quite sure that Holo would take Col in hand and head straight for Yoitsu.
In the hairsbreadth gap Holo had left after her words, Lawrence slid in and took the opportunity. "He's trying to see what I'll do when put in an uncertain situation."
***
Holo fell silent for a moment, perhaps having swallowed her rebuke at his slowness to answer. "Quite...Honestly, the only reason to put us all up in such a fine room is—"
"—To make us sweat."
Holo's shoulders slackened, and she flicked her ears and looked over her shoulder.
Col, every bit the serious student, gave a slow, wide-eyed nod.
"So, what then shall we do?"
Col was momentarily stunned into silence by the sudden question.
He immediately and furiously started thinking of how to answer, while Holo's wagging tale made it clear she expected Lawrence to speak up.
It was like tossing a bone in front of a dog.
Even though he knew he was being baited, he could not help it.
She had two males in the palm of her hand and was making them vie with each other for the sheer fun of it.
"We should act as usual and enjoy the fine treatment." Lawrence's words were just an instant quicker—although worryingly, Col had opened his mouth and appeared nearly ready to answer himself.
Holo looked at Col for a moment, then slowly turned back to regard Lawrence, a smile dancing about the corners of her mouth as if to say, "Not bad."
"If we truly mean to support Kieman through and through, then this isn't enemy territory—it's our home base, and there's nothing to fear," he continued. Holo nodded with satisfaction, her ears flicking, as though she had found the treasure for which she had been searching.
Lawrence looked past Holo to Col and asked, "Was that what you were going to say?" which made the boy smile, nodding with only a touch of sheepishness.
"Also, what would you do if the person on whom you'd lain an important duty seemed about to fall under the weight? Could you calmly continue to let them labor, eh?" Holo prodded.
Thus far, Lawrence had always bought and sold on his own, bearing every risk and worry himself, so the matter had never really occurred to him. The very notion of using someone else was so far from his mind that such thoughts were immediately abandoned.
As long as it was within his reach, Lawrence was more or less confident in his ability to fight. But there were those in the world who used spears longer than their arms—to say nothing of bows and arrows. And battles were won by generals who never even had to lay hands upon a sword.
Holo had long been such a leader.
"When I did such things myself, I nary used such roundabout, bothersome methods." She grinned, flashing her pure white fangs. "I am Holo. Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu!" she said, hands on her hips, chest flung proudly out.
It had been some time since she had bragged like this, but to be boastful and proud was indeed very Holo-like. And given the admiration with which Col was gazing at her, it was surely just what was called for—since if she were too wise a wolf, she would not be able to indulge in this childish boasting.
"Now then. What do you suggest we do?"
Here was Holo's true aim.
Lawrence found the words drawn out of him. "We go out and enjoy ourselves."
| It was perhaps a bit pathological of Lawrence to then decide to pretend not to notice this. "In that case, let's go see the narwhal at the church, shall we?"
He spoke in a jesting fashion as if to emphasize that it was his proposal.
Col looked a bit taken aback, though Holo's surprise was feigned.
She truly was a genius at turning circumstances to her own advantage.
"After all, there was quite a crowd on the way over here. If we ask, I'll bet we'll be allowed to see it."
Lawrence doubted that going to see the narwhal would be seen as a sign of betrayal, regardless of his connection to Eve. If he were truly thinking of betraying Kieman, then there would be no reason to take actions that would attract the guild's attention.
Of course, this was all hypothetical—it was possible to imagine any number of layers of hidden motivations.
"What do you say? Wouldn't it be boring to just go out for food and drink?"
Holo was a proud wisewolf, and Lawrence's proposal was meant to be worthy of her position; yet its form still contained a certain childish innocence—two opposing aspects.
As a wisewolf, Holo had the confidence to stand before the narwhal. Yet like a child, she was surely interested in just seeing it.
At least, that was the idea.
Judging by her delight, he seemed to have hit the bull's-eye.
"'Tis not a bad notion, coming from you."
From Holo's lashing tongue, such a statement was like getting full marks on a test.
Col stood from the bed and busily began preparing to leave.
They were a strange trio, but here and now, Lawrence could scarcely imagine anything more comforting.
As expected, when they informed the innkeeper that they wished to view the narwhal, he told them to simply mention Kieman's name at the church.
Kieman had unquestionably expected this.
Lawrence did not care enough to ask Holo to be certain, but once they left the inn, they would probably have several people tailing them.
The church faced a prominent avenue on the south side of Kerube and was the grandest building there.
Unlike the buildings on the north side, the architecture of the south had a fixed height and build so as not to stand out or be excessively showy—and among such buildings, the church's beauty and grandeur was impressive indeed.
Its tower rose high above any other building, and its top housed a bell polished to shine so brightly that it was easily visible even from the ground below. The grand gate that faced the avenue had thick wooden doors that must have required great effort to open and close and was reinforced with countless iron bands. It could surely repel even the largest army of demons.
The building itself was made from large stones, with a passage from scriptures carved atop the entrance. A benevolent angel looked down on all who passed through.
It was a profound sight.
If one ventured deep enough into the forest, one might see a great tree that seemed tall enough to reach to the heavens. Such trees were usually the holy residences of local gods or spirits, and standing before one was an awe-inspiring experience.
But before them now was not some great tree tended by some unfathomable power, but rather a church built by human hands on human land.
And within it was not some sharp-fanged god but a benevolent God in human form.
It was true that in comparison to this, the pagans who prayed at waterfalls and springs, worshipped toads, and feared the cries of beasts as the words of the gods seemed worryingly barbaric.
Even with a wisewolf standing right there beside him, Lawrence could not help but think so.
If he had not found himself being dragged along by the ear by an irritated Holo, Lawrence would have continued to stand there dumbstruck.
"Come, let us hurry in."
A throng had gathered in front of the church, and listening to them, the group could tell they were abuzz with talk of the narwhal. It seemed the news had gotten out—indeed, no door could contain a wagging tongue.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was perhaps a bit pathological of Lawrence to then decide to pretend not to notice this. "In that case, let's go see the narwhal at the church, shall we?"
He spoke in a jesting fashion as if to emphasize that it was his proposal.
Col looked a bit taken aback, though Holo's surprise was feigned.
She truly was a genius at turning circumstances to her own advantage.
"After all, there was quite a crowd on the way over here. If we ask, I'll bet we'll be allowed to see it."
Lawrence doubted that going to see the narwhal would be seen as a sign of betrayal, regardless of his connection to Eve. If he were truly thinking of betraying Kieman, then there would be no reason to take actions that would attract the guild's attention.
Of course, this was all hypothetical—it was possible to imagine any number of layers of hidden motivations.
"What do you say? Wouldn't it be boring to just go out for food and drink?"
Holo was a proud wisewolf, and Lawrence's proposal was meant to be worthy of her position; yet its form still contained a certain childish innocence—two opposing aspects.
As a wisewolf, Holo had the confidence to stand before the narwhal. Yet like a child, she was surely interested in just seeing it.
At least, that was the idea.
Judging by her delight, he seemed to have hit the bull's-eye.
"'Tis not a bad notion, coming from you."
From Holo's lashing tongue, such a statement was like getting full marks on a test.
Col stood from the bed and busily began preparing to leave.
They were a strange trio, but here and now, Lawrence could scarcely imagine anything more comforting.
As expected, when they informed the innkeeper that they wished to view the narwhal, he told them to simply mention Kieman's name at the church.
Kieman had unquestionably expected this.
Lawrence did not care enough to ask Holo to be certain, but once they left the inn, they would probably have several people tailing them.
The church faced a prominent avenue on the south side of Kerube and was the grandest building there.
Unlike the buildings on the north side, the architecture of the south had a fixed height and build so as not to stand out or be excessively showy—and among such buildings, the church's beauty and grandeur was impressive indeed.
Its tower rose high above any other building, and its top housed a bell polished to shine so brightly that it was easily visible even from the ground below. The grand gate that faced the avenue had thick wooden doors that must have required great effort to open and close and was reinforced with countless iron bands. It could surely repel even the largest army of demons.
The building itself was made from large stones, with a passage from scriptures carved atop the entrance. A benevolent angel looked down on all who passed through.
It was a profound sight.
If one ventured deep enough into the forest, one might see a great tree that seemed tall enough to reach to the heavens. Such trees were usually the holy residences of local gods or spirits, and standing before one was an awe-inspiring experience.
But before them now was not some great tree tended by some unfathomable power, but rather a church built by human hands on human land.
And within it was not some sharp-fanged god but a benevolent God in human form.
It was true that in comparison to this, the pagans who prayed at waterfalls and springs, worshipped toads, and feared the cries of beasts as the words of the gods seemed worryingly barbaric.
Even with a wisewolf standing right there beside him, Lawrence could not help but think so.
If he had not found himself being dragged along by the ear by an irritated Holo, Lawrence would have continued to stand there dumbstruck.
"Come, let us hurry in."
A throng had gathered in front of the church, and listening to them, the group could tell they were abuzz with talk of the narwhal. It seemed the news had gotten out—indeed, no door could contain a wagging tongue.
| Lawrence and Col found themselves dragged as far as the entrance by Holo, but where they would begin to ascend the stairs that led to the church, they were stopped by the guards.
"The church is currently conducting official business. None may enter."
Influence was a strange, invisible power indeed.
"We are from the Rowen Trade Guild. We've permission from Mr. Kieman."
At those words, the guards exchanged a glance, understanding that trouble would arise if they turned Lawrence away. Reluctantly, they lowered their spears and beckoned entry.
"My thanks," said Lawrence with a smile, pulling the still-irritated Holo along as he entered the church.
Col seemed rather nervous and clutched the sleeve of Holo's robe as he followed along.
"It's quiet."
Though it was a church, being built at this scale made it feel more like a castle.
And while mountain castles were small, dark, shabby affairs with sheep and pigs wandering about the keep, this was a proper city castle.
Passing through the entrance, they saw a round ceiling painted with a colorful scene from the scriptures, and columns carved in the forms of strange mythological creatures made it clear this place was not of the secular world.
There were few windows and so many candles—expensive beeswax candles that gave off little smoke in order to avoid damaging the paintings with soot.
Lawrence looked back and saw the crowd outside straining to see past the guards, who still blocked the entrance.
If they received special treatment like this all the time, it was little wonder that the Church elite were so high and mighty.
"It must be farther in," said Holo, her nose twitching.
No matter how grand its construction, every church shared the same basic plan.
The sanctuary should lie straight ahead, and any holy or special objects would be beneath or behind the altar.
Before Lawrence could say anything, Holo forged ahead. Her footsteps made it seem as though she were being beckoned by something. Then, the moment she reached her hand out to the open, intricately carved door to the sanctuary—
"Who goes there?" a high voice rang out, and even Holo flinched in surprise.
But it wasn't like Holo to be caught unawares. She had simply been very, very focused on what lay ahead—the legendary beast whose flesh granted long life and which she had long ago chased herself.
"Who goes there? Guards!"
It was a tall, thin man with a high nose wearing a cream-colored robe.
A glance at his nervous face would have made it clear to anyone that he was a man of the Church, and his high voice sounded like a strangling chicken.
"My humble apologies. We were referred here by Lud Kieman of the Rowen Trade Guild." Lawrence made sure to mention Kieman's name before speaking his own. "There seems to have been some mistake."
No organization was as preoccupied with rules and regulations as the Church. But human connections superseded written rules.
"What? The Rowen...? Ah, excuse me." The man calmed himself as quickly as he had angered and waved off the guards that approached from the hall.
The guards from the entrance barely seemed to notice. Perhaps this sort of thing happened often.
"Ahem. I am the assistant priest of this church, Sean Natole."
"I am Kraft Lawrence of the Rowen Trade Guild."
"I'm Holo."
"I am Tote Col."
Holo had introduced herself with her attention still on what lay past the door, while Col was carefully polite.
A merchant, a girl dressed like a nun, and a boy in tattered clothes—it was a strange combination, but to someone who had lived nearly his entire life within the Church, almost anything from the secular world was strange.
The priest did not seem particularly mystified.
"Is that so? Have you come here to pray, then?"
When it came to speaking their minds, clergymen were second to none.
Lawrence quietly cleared his throat. "No, we came here in hopes of being allowed to view the narwhal..."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence and Col found themselves dragged as far as the entrance by Holo, but where they would begin to ascend the stairs that led to the church, they were stopped by the guards.
"The church is currently conducting official business. None may enter."
Influence was a strange, invisible power indeed.
"We are from the Rowen Trade Guild. We've permission from Mr. Kieman."
At those words, the guards exchanged a glance, understanding that trouble would arise if they turned Lawrence away. Reluctantly, they lowered their spears and beckoned entry.
"My thanks," said Lawrence with a smile, pulling the still-irritated Holo along as he entered the church.
Col seemed rather nervous and clutched the sleeve of Holo's robe as he followed along.
"It's quiet."
Though it was a church, being built at this scale made it feel more like a castle.
And while mountain castles were small, dark, shabby affairs with sheep and pigs wandering about the keep, this was a proper city castle.
Passing through the entrance, they saw a round ceiling painted with a colorful scene from the scriptures, and columns carved in the forms of strange mythological creatures made it clear this place was not of the secular world.
There were few windows and so many candles—expensive beeswax candles that gave off little smoke in order to avoid damaging the paintings with soot.
Lawrence looked back and saw the crowd outside straining to see past the guards, who still blocked the entrance.
If they received special treatment like this all the time, it was little wonder that the Church elite were so high and mighty.
"It must be farther in," said Holo, her nose twitching.
No matter how grand its construction, every church shared the same basic plan.
The sanctuary should lie straight ahead, and any holy or special objects would be beneath or behind the altar.
Before Lawrence could say anything, Holo forged ahead. Her footsteps made it seem as though she were being beckoned by something. Then, the moment she reached her hand out to the open, intricately carved door to the sanctuary—
"Who goes there?" a high voice rang out, and even Holo flinched in surprise.
But it wasn't like Holo to be caught unawares. She had simply been very, very focused on what lay ahead—the legendary beast whose flesh granted long life and which she had long ago chased herself.
"Who goes there? Guards!"
It was a tall, thin man with a high nose wearing a cream-colored robe.
A glance at his nervous face would have made it clear to anyone that he was a man of the Church, and his high voice sounded like a strangling chicken.
"My humble apologies. We were referred here by Lud Kieman of the Rowen Trade Guild." Lawrence made sure to mention Kieman's name before speaking his own. "There seems to have been some mistake."
No organization was as preoccupied with rules and regulations as the Church. But human connections superseded written rules.
"What? The Rowen...? Ah, excuse me." The man calmed himself as quickly as he had angered and waved off the guards that approached from the hall.
The guards from the entrance barely seemed to notice. Perhaps this sort of thing happened often.
"Ahem. I am the assistant priest of this church, Sean Natole."
"I am Kraft Lawrence of the Rowen Trade Guild."
"I'm Holo."
"I am Tote Col."
Holo had introduced herself with her attention still on what lay past the door, while Col was carefully polite.
A merchant, a girl dressed like a nun, and a boy in tattered clothes—it was a strange combination, but to someone who had lived nearly his entire life within the Church, almost anything from the secular world was strange.
The priest did not seem particularly mystified.
"Is that so? Have you come here to pray, then?"
When it came to speaking their minds, clergymen were second to none.
Lawrence quietly cleared his throat. "No, we came here in hopes of being allowed to view the narwhal..."
| The assistant priest seemed to be accustomed to rambling at length, but Holo's patience was at its end.
Having no other choice, Lawrence smiled and approached Natole, reaching inside his coat as he did so. "Actually, Mr. Kieman instructed me to give his regards to Father Natole, God's faithful servant." He then took Natole's hand, and in the same motion, he passed the priest a note.
"...Be assured that the message is received," said Natole casually, clearing his throat again. "The creature in question is currently being identified in the sanctuary, but I suppose I could allow you to view it."
"You have my sincere gratitude," said Lawrence by way of exaggerated thanks.
Natole nodded, not at all displeased, then approached the door by which Holo still stood, unbarring and opening it.
"As my holy walk is yet incomplete, I am prohibited from gazing upon it myself." Translation: He was too afraid of anything pagan to look at it. Either that, or he hesitated to enter the sanctuary immediately after having taken a bribe.
Regardless, Lawrence followed Holo into the sanctuary, a wry smile on his face.
The smile was not because of the disagreeable priest, though. It was aimed at Holo, who had been so eager to get past the door while it was closed but now hesitated when it was open.
"Go on," urged Lawrence quietly, pushing her from behind.
If she had tried to find the narwhal long ago, that meant there must have been someone to whom she wanted to feed its meat.
Was it the villager she had met in Pasloe during the centuries she spent there? Or was it someone else, someone whom she had met on her travels?
But she had failed to obtain the meat, and whoever she had wanted to give it to had died.
Had she been there when they died? Or had they passed away while she was traveling? Lawrence did not know, but he was quite certain she had not said good-bye with a smile.
But perhaps her friend had.
And now Holo was faced with it again, hence her expression.
"...This is...," murmured Col.
A stone walkway led straight ahead into a room filled with hundreds and hundreds of long, wooden pews.
Atop the walkway rested a faded carpet as if leading to the very heavens themselves.
At the end of the path, set in the high far wall, was a giant stained-glass depiction of God flanked by angels singing His praises.
And beneath that stood an altar where God's representative would stand and lead the congregation, and beneath that was a large casket.
They were still far away but could catch glimpses of the strange form within.
The large casket seemed to be filled with water, and the living legend within it shifted as if having noticed them, causing the water to slosh.
At the same time, there came the knocking sound of the creature's horn upon the wood of the container.
"It's really there."
None of the three of them could take another step.
Curiosity killed the cat, but a merchant's curiosity could kill the gods.
Nevertheless, it was hard to approach.
Lawrence felt as if he understood how the legend that eating the creature's flesh granted long life had gotten its start.
"Shall we get closer?"
Lawrence placed his hand on Holo's shoulder, and she looked up at him in surprise.
***
She then shook her head wordlessly, turning forward again.
As she stood there blankly gazing at the narwhal, it seemed as if she was saying good-bye to her past.
"I-is that a god, too?" inquired Col in a small voice. He had been holding on to Holo's sleeve the entire time and at some point had grabbed ahold of Lawrence's coat as well.
"I wonder. What do you think?" Lawrence asked, handing the question over to Holo, who seemed extremely irritated by it.
Perhaps she did not want such questions to be posed to her, but who else was there who could answer them?
"At the very least, it is within the realm of normal animals. Anything beyond that has a special scent. But I do not sense that here."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The assistant priest seemed to be accustomed to rambling at length, but Holo's patience was at its end.
Having no other choice, Lawrence smiled and approached Natole, reaching inside his coat as he did so. "Actually, Mr. Kieman instructed me to give his regards to Father Natole, God's faithful servant." He then took Natole's hand, and in the same motion, he passed the priest a note.
"...Be assured that the message is received," said Natole casually, clearing his throat again. "The creature in question is currently being identified in the sanctuary, but I suppose I could allow you to view it."
"You have my sincere gratitude," said Lawrence by way of exaggerated thanks.
Natole nodded, not at all displeased, then approached the door by which Holo still stood, unbarring and opening it.
"As my holy walk is yet incomplete, I am prohibited from gazing upon it myself." Translation: He was too afraid of anything pagan to look at it. Either that, or he hesitated to enter the sanctuary immediately after having taken a bribe.
Regardless, Lawrence followed Holo into the sanctuary, a wry smile on his face.
The smile was not because of the disagreeable priest, though. It was aimed at Holo, who had been so eager to get past the door while it was closed but now hesitated when it was open.
"Go on," urged Lawrence quietly, pushing her from behind.
If she had tried to find the narwhal long ago, that meant there must have been someone to whom she wanted to feed its meat.
Was it the villager she had met in Pasloe during the centuries she spent there? Or was it someone else, someone whom she had met on her travels?
But she had failed to obtain the meat, and whoever she had wanted to give it to had died.
Had she been there when they died? Or had they passed away while she was traveling? Lawrence did not know, but he was quite certain she had not said good-bye with a smile.
But perhaps her friend had.
And now Holo was faced with it again, hence her expression.
"...This is...," murmured Col.
A stone walkway led straight ahead into a room filled with hundreds and hundreds of long, wooden pews.
Atop the walkway rested a faded carpet as if leading to the very heavens themselves.
At the end of the path, set in the high far wall, was a giant stained-glass depiction of God flanked by angels singing His praises.
And beneath that stood an altar where God's representative would stand and lead the congregation, and beneath that was a large casket.
They were still far away but could catch glimpses of the strange form within.
The large casket seemed to be filled with water, and the living legend within it shifted as if having noticed them, causing the water to slosh.
At the same time, there came the knocking sound of the creature's horn upon the wood of the container.
"It's really there."
None of the three of them could take another step.
Curiosity killed the cat, but a merchant's curiosity could kill the gods.
Nevertheless, it was hard to approach.
Lawrence felt as if he understood how the legend that eating the creature's flesh granted long life had gotten its start.
"Shall we get closer?"
Lawrence placed his hand on Holo's shoulder, and she looked up at him in surprise.
***
She then shook her head wordlessly, turning forward again.
As she stood there blankly gazing at the narwhal, it seemed as if she was saying good-bye to her past.
"I-is that a god, too?" inquired Col in a small voice. He had been holding on to Holo's sleeve the entire time and at some point had grabbed ahold of Lawrence's coat as well.
"I wonder. What do you think?" Lawrence asked, handing the question over to Holo, who seemed extremely irritated by it.
Perhaps she did not want such questions to be posed to her, but who else was there who could answer them?
"At the very least, it is within the realm of normal animals. Anything beyond that has a special scent. But I do not sense that here."
| Lawrence put his hand on the boy's head. "Just a bad joke," he said, looking at Holo, who turned away without a hint of self-reflection about her.
"Well, if that's how big it is and this is the extent of the guards they've posted...," mused Holo in a still softer voice as she looked around the room.
Evidently her proposal to simply take the narwhal and escape—what she'd originally encouraged Lawrence to do—had not been entirely academic.
"Wasn't that just a hypothetical plan?"
Holo smiled maliciously and cocked her head. "If your fear could always be curbed by hypothetical notions, 'twould make things easier for me."
***
It was true there was nothing wrong with knowing they could steal the narwhal whenever they wanted.
"The problem is from whence to enter."
"What about breaking through the front door?"
"It could be difficult if that door were shut tight."
Lawrence thought back to those iron-reinforced doors.
In point of fact, the church housed many valuable items, and during wartime, it would be the first place attacked and the last where townspeople could make their stand.
The front entrance had surely been constructed to withstand siege weapons.
Even for Holo, it would be difficult to breach.
"What about through that?" Col pointed to the stained-glass window positioned above the narwhal. A wall of colored glass.
It was constructed to let in light, but given Holo's great size, she would need an entrance about as large.
"We'd be cursed for trying," said Lawrence, which made Holo's throat rumble in amusement.
"Heh-heh. It might feel rather nice to smash through that and leap in here."
Terrifyingly, there was no hint of jest in her voice.
"That might be the only way in, but that glass is built that way so as to keep the wall from collapsing. If we just destroy it, we could be in real trouble."
"Hmm?" Holo and Col, who had been giggling conspiratorially, looked up in unison.
"When a building gets this large, you can't just make it entirely out of stone. The weight is too much, and the structure can't hold itself up; it'll collapse. So you make part of it out of glass, which is lighter, to avoid that. If you look carefully, you can see the iron rods supporting the joists. If we break those, things could get bad."
The fact that all sanctuaries had stained-glass windows out of sheer necessity was rather disappointing—it felt somehow sad that even the Church's buildings were not exempt from the rules of the world.
"We shall worry about that when the time comes," said Holo, sighing impatiently before continuing on. "If you would work a bit harder, I'd not have to bear so much of the danger."
It was true.
Lawrence could only look away in shame. Col smiled slightly and said, "I know you can do it, Mr. Lawrence," which Holo found amusing.
"Well, let's hurry back. Father Natole will get suspicious."
"Mm."
"All right!"
The two answered simultaneously, but Lawrence, worried, put the question to them again. "Do you really not want to have a closer look?"
"I'm fine," said Col, looking a touch scared.
A troubled Holo replied, "I care not."
Both of them seemed frightened in more ways than one.
And even Lawrence felt something that made it hard to approach the strange, one-horned beast.
He could not say that he did not understand why Natole would have begged off entering the sanctuary. The narwhal was a creature spoken of only in myths that proclaimed that its flesh granted long life and that medicine made from its horn cured disease. But here it was, real. And one thing was certain—the legends were well deserved.
They would have to prepare themselves.
But now that they knew Holo was capable of breaching the church, she would never let Lawrence turn tail.
They expressed their thanks to Natole, and once he had closed the doors of the church behind him, Lawrence could not help but speak up.
"It certainly had an aura befitting the legends. No wonder it's captured the minds of so many people."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence put his hand on the boy's head. "Just a bad joke," he said, looking at Holo, who turned away without a hint of self-reflection about her.
"Well, if that's how big it is and this is the extent of the guards they've posted...," mused Holo in a still softer voice as she looked around the room.
Evidently her proposal to simply take the narwhal and escape—what she'd originally encouraged Lawrence to do—had not been entirely academic.
"Wasn't that just a hypothetical plan?"
Holo smiled maliciously and cocked her head. "If your fear could always be curbed by hypothetical notions, 'twould make things easier for me."
***
It was true there was nothing wrong with knowing they could steal the narwhal whenever they wanted.
"The problem is from whence to enter."
"What about breaking through the front door?"
"It could be difficult if that door were shut tight."
Lawrence thought back to those iron-reinforced doors.
In point of fact, the church housed many valuable items, and during wartime, it would be the first place attacked and the last where townspeople could make their stand.
The front entrance had surely been constructed to withstand siege weapons.
Even for Holo, it would be difficult to breach.
"What about through that?" Col pointed to the stained-glass window positioned above the narwhal. A wall of colored glass.
It was constructed to let in light, but given Holo's great size, she would need an entrance about as large.
"We'd be cursed for trying," said Lawrence, which made Holo's throat rumble in amusement.
"Heh-heh. It might feel rather nice to smash through that and leap in here."
Terrifyingly, there was no hint of jest in her voice.
"That might be the only way in, but that glass is built that way so as to keep the wall from collapsing. If we just destroy it, we could be in real trouble."
"Hmm?" Holo and Col, who had been giggling conspiratorially, looked up in unison.
"When a building gets this large, you can't just make it entirely out of stone. The weight is too much, and the structure can't hold itself up; it'll collapse. So you make part of it out of glass, which is lighter, to avoid that. If you look carefully, you can see the iron rods supporting the joists. If we break those, things could get bad."
The fact that all sanctuaries had stained-glass windows out of sheer necessity was rather disappointing—it felt somehow sad that even the Church's buildings were not exempt from the rules of the world.
"We shall worry about that when the time comes," said Holo, sighing impatiently before continuing on. "If you would work a bit harder, I'd not have to bear so much of the danger."
It was true.
Lawrence could only look away in shame. Col smiled slightly and said, "I know you can do it, Mr. Lawrence," which Holo found amusing.
"Well, let's hurry back. Father Natole will get suspicious."
"Mm."
"All right!"
The two answered simultaneously, but Lawrence, worried, put the question to them again. "Do you really not want to have a closer look?"
"I'm fine," said Col, looking a touch scared.
A troubled Holo replied, "I care not."
Both of them seemed frightened in more ways than one.
And even Lawrence felt something that made it hard to approach the strange, one-horned beast.
He could not say that he did not understand why Natole would have begged off entering the sanctuary. The narwhal was a creature spoken of only in myths that proclaimed that its flesh granted long life and that medicine made from its horn cured disease. But here it was, real. And one thing was certain—the legends were well deserved.
They would have to prepare themselves.
But now that they knew Holo was capable of breaching the church, she would never let Lawrence turn tail.
They expressed their thanks to Natole, and once he had closed the doors of the church behind him, Lawrence could not help but speak up.
"It certainly had an aura befitting the legends. No wonder it's captured the minds of so many people."
| There was no question that the narwhal's presence put the Church in a bad position.
The people of the Church claimed God as their ally and were thus feared by many. But there were surely people in the world who did not fear God.
Turning a living legend like the narwhal into money meant treating it no differently than the many other goods in which they traded.
To have sufficient nerve to do such a thing, it was as if they lived in another world.
Once they were back on the crowded avenue, Lawrence finally felt able to take a deep breath.
"Still," Lawrence said, standing proudly and looking at Holo next to him. "I suppose I've used you to bargain with myself."
Given that she was unable to actually read minds, Holo probably would not see the connection Lawrence's words were drawing. But the wisewolf appeared to quickly grasp the conflict to which Lawrence was alluding. She grinned despite Col's wide-eyed surprise at the confession that Lawrence had put Holo in hock.
"So we've naught to fear, do we?" she said, moving her body closer as they passed through the crowds. She slipped her hand into his, and indeed, there was nothing more fear inspiring than that.
Lawrence smiled, looking at Col with a sigh. "Looks like our wisewolf speaks the truth."
Col nodded, looked back and forth between Holo and Lawrence and—amusingly—nodded again.
It was evening when Kieman again came knocking at their door, and Lawrence and company were in the middle of dinner.
Just as expected, the meal the inn had provided was a grand one, and Holo was properly joyous while Col occasionally choked on his food.
But the fact that Kieman called upon them in the evening was proof that he did not consider them mere fools—because the best time to approach a troublesome opponent is either to wake them up or to interrupt their meal.
"Would you care to join us?" offered Lawrence as he brushed bread crumbs off his hands. Kieman raised both hands with a smile.
"I'll pass," he answered. "If possible, I'd like to speak with you outside, Mr. Lawrence."
Lawrence had no intention of refusing such an offer.
He gave Col and Holo a look, then stood and went with Kieman into the hallway.
Simply having Col there so Holo was not alone during her meal was a big help, although if Lawrence was to tell her that, she would give him quite a look indeed.
"So, about the topic at hand," began Kieman as soon as they had entered another room. Lawrence initially wondered if it was a storage room, but it seemed that it was a space Kieman had reserved for private contemplation. It was candlelit, and there were stacks of rolled-up maps, all of which were lettered in writing Lawrence had never seen before.
"We wish to ask you, Mr. Lawrence, to act as our messenger."
Was he using the first-person plural simply to intimidate, or were there actually multiple parties?
Lawrence decided to conduct his negotiations standing, like a proper traveling merchant would. "Might I ask the reason for that?"
"Naturally. To be blunt, originally this duty was not yours."
Of course it wasn't.
"Initially we'd intended to use Ted Reynolds, master of the Jean Company—you're familiar with it, yes?—to convey our intentions. The reason was—"
"—He wanted to escape the manipulations of the north."
Kieman nodded and continued. "He contacted us, and using him would allow us to profit in the copper trade. So he was our first choice. Moreover, his connections to the Bolan family are quite strong. He controls the whole import-export trade of it on the Roam River, probably given his ties with the wolf."
Lawrence immediately remembered the salt trade.
If the Jean Company was shipping copper coins to the Winfiel kingdom, it would not be surprising if he was receiving salt statues in return. In which case, there was another way to interpret Reynolds's nervous visit the previous night. He had been worrying about the source of his greatest profit.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | There was no question that the narwhal's presence put the Church in a bad position.
The people of the Church claimed God as their ally and were thus feared by many. But there were surely people in the world who did not fear God.
Turning a living legend like the narwhal into money meant treating it no differently than the many other goods in which they traded.
To have sufficient nerve to do such a thing, it was as if they lived in another world.
Once they were back on the crowded avenue, Lawrence finally felt able to take a deep breath.
"Still," Lawrence said, standing proudly and looking at Holo next to him. "I suppose I've used you to bargain with myself."
Given that she was unable to actually read minds, Holo probably would not see the connection Lawrence's words were drawing. But the wisewolf appeared to quickly grasp the conflict to which Lawrence was alluding. She grinned despite Col's wide-eyed surprise at the confession that Lawrence had put Holo in hock.
"So we've naught to fear, do we?" she said, moving her body closer as they passed through the crowds. She slipped her hand into his, and indeed, there was nothing more fear inspiring than that.
Lawrence smiled, looking at Col with a sigh. "Looks like our wisewolf speaks the truth."
Col nodded, looked back and forth between Holo and Lawrence and—amusingly—nodded again.
It was evening when Kieman again came knocking at their door, and Lawrence and company were in the middle of dinner.
Just as expected, the meal the inn had provided was a grand one, and Holo was properly joyous while Col occasionally choked on his food.
But the fact that Kieman called upon them in the evening was proof that he did not consider them mere fools—because the best time to approach a troublesome opponent is either to wake them up or to interrupt their meal.
"Would you care to join us?" offered Lawrence as he brushed bread crumbs off his hands. Kieman raised both hands with a smile.
"I'll pass," he answered. "If possible, I'd like to speak with you outside, Mr. Lawrence."
Lawrence had no intention of refusing such an offer.
He gave Col and Holo a look, then stood and went with Kieman into the hallway.
Simply having Col there so Holo was not alone during her meal was a big help, although if Lawrence was to tell her that, she would give him quite a look indeed.
"So, about the topic at hand," began Kieman as soon as they had entered another room. Lawrence initially wondered if it was a storage room, but it seemed that it was a space Kieman had reserved for private contemplation. It was candlelit, and there were stacks of rolled-up maps, all of which were lettered in writing Lawrence had never seen before.
"We wish to ask you, Mr. Lawrence, to act as our messenger."
Was he using the first-person plural simply to intimidate, or were there actually multiple parties?
Lawrence decided to conduct his negotiations standing, like a proper traveling merchant would. "Might I ask the reason for that?"
"Naturally. To be blunt, originally this duty was not yours."
Of course it wasn't.
"Initially we'd intended to use Ted Reynolds, master of the Jean Company—you're familiar with it, yes?—to convey our intentions. The reason was—"
"—He wanted to escape the manipulations of the north."
Kieman nodded and continued. "He contacted us, and using him would allow us to profit in the copper trade. So he was our first choice. Moreover, his connections to the Bolan family are quite strong. He controls the whole import-export trade of it on the Roam River, probably given his ties with the wolf."
Lawrence immediately remembered the salt trade.
If the Jean Company was shipping copper coins to the Winfiel kingdom, it would not be surprising if he was receiving salt statues in return. In which case, there was another way to interpret Reynolds's nervous visit the previous night. He had been worrying about the source of his greatest profit.
| The sad shape of his receding form was likely proof of how pathetic he found himself for resorting to such ploys.
"Our goal is this: By using the narwhal, we wish to gain full ownership of the northern district."
"But without allowing them to use the resulting profit to then control the entire town."
Kieman nodded.
It seemed he was thinking of something very similar to what Eve had proposed.
But that did not mean that Eve was particularly incredible or that Kieman's imagination was lacking.
In circumstances when one could not absolutely trust one's partner but still had to sit down at the table and negotiate with them, following such a plan was the most reasonable course of action.
Given that, Lawrence finally felt he understood why Eve had called on him.
In this particular situation, someone who did not understand the links between the north and south side would be unsuitable.
The only way the two parties could negotiate on an equal level was if their mediator was equally likely to betray either side. After that, it was simply a fight to sway that mediator.
"A man in one of the northern landlord families is infatuated with the head of the Bolan house. We must use this. So long as the head of the Bolan family does not betray us, we can ensure a good outcome both for her and ourselves...but we do not know how this will play out yet."
Lawrence was well aware that Eve's situation was a complicated one. There was no telling what she might employ. She was like an alchemist's kettle.
"The messenger might well be our ally or, depending on circumstances, could change his allegiance to the other side. That is the sort of person we need. Otherwise, the wolf of the Roam River will be too cautious to approach us. Of course, we must ensure that we ultimately triumph, so our strategy must be a foolproof one...and sadly, the goods in question are easily spoiled."
It was a living narwhal, after all.
"What do you want me to do specifically?"
Kieman cleared his throat. He closed his eyes as if reviewing the entire plan.
"We literally wish you to convey messages for us. We do not trust her, nor does the wolf trust us. But we trust you, and she does as well. You need only bring our proposal to them: The condition of the narwhal. The price. The method of delivery. The time. Or possibly the contingencies for escape. You'll carry that information to them and then bring their replies back to us."
"And the profit?"
Kieman grinned, his canines strangely prominent behind his thin lips. "I'd like this to result in the Rowen Trade Guild becoming the preeminent guild on the south side. The current guild house chief, Jeeta, has become complacent—I'll replace him. And the resulting profit..." He paused for effect like an actor. "...I'll leave that to your imagination."
Instead of hauling goods by himself, selling them in person with his own words, that work was left to others and the profits simply piled up in the ledger.
It was like another world. A transformation from merchant to something completely different.
In receiving a small share of that, the profit that would fall from the sky would be astounding.
"Of course, this is a mere verbal promise, which means the wolf has a chance to sway you to her side."
"Indeed. And she could offer me concrete profit, no doubt."
That is, she was able to swindle everyone so spectacularly that she gained the narwhal for herself. Eve, the former noblewoman, could then sell it off to the highest bidder. It was quite possible that she would then be able to offer him a sea of gold coins as compensation.
"I'd prefer not to have to deal with the wolf, but without doing so, there's no chance for success at all. She's simply that powerful."
Kieman's words were heavy with meaning.
It was already clear that the landlord's son who was so infatuated with Eve would not betray his family solely for his own gain. But if it was for Eve, that was another story.
Excuses were very powerful things.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The sad shape of his receding form was likely proof of how pathetic he found himself for resorting to such ploys.
"Our goal is this: By using the narwhal, we wish to gain full ownership of the northern district."
"But without allowing them to use the resulting profit to then control the entire town."
Kieman nodded.
It seemed he was thinking of something very similar to what Eve had proposed.
But that did not mean that Eve was particularly incredible or that Kieman's imagination was lacking.
In circumstances when one could not absolutely trust one's partner but still had to sit down at the table and negotiate with them, following such a plan was the most reasonable course of action.
Given that, Lawrence finally felt he understood why Eve had called on him.
In this particular situation, someone who did not understand the links between the north and south side would be unsuitable.
The only way the two parties could negotiate on an equal level was if their mediator was equally likely to betray either side. After that, it was simply a fight to sway that mediator.
"A man in one of the northern landlord families is infatuated with the head of the Bolan house. We must use this. So long as the head of the Bolan family does not betray us, we can ensure a good outcome both for her and ourselves...but we do not know how this will play out yet."
Lawrence was well aware that Eve's situation was a complicated one. There was no telling what she might employ. She was like an alchemist's kettle.
"The messenger might well be our ally or, depending on circumstances, could change his allegiance to the other side. That is the sort of person we need. Otherwise, the wolf of the Roam River will be too cautious to approach us. Of course, we must ensure that we ultimately triumph, so our strategy must be a foolproof one...and sadly, the goods in question are easily spoiled."
It was a living narwhal, after all.
"What do you want me to do specifically?"
Kieman cleared his throat. He closed his eyes as if reviewing the entire plan.
"We literally wish you to convey messages for us. We do not trust her, nor does the wolf trust us. But we trust you, and she does as well. You need only bring our proposal to them: The condition of the narwhal. The price. The method of delivery. The time. Or possibly the contingencies for escape. You'll carry that information to them and then bring their replies back to us."
"And the profit?"
Kieman grinned, his canines strangely prominent behind his thin lips. "I'd like this to result in the Rowen Trade Guild becoming the preeminent guild on the south side. The current guild house chief, Jeeta, has become complacent—I'll replace him. And the resulting profit..." He paused for effect like an actor. "...I'll leave that to your imagination."
Instead of hauling goods by himself, selling them in person with his own words, that work was left to others and the profits simply piled up in the ledger.
It was like another world. A transformation from merchant to something completely different.
In receiving a small share of that, the profit that would fall from the sky would be astounding.
"Of course, this is a mere verbal promise, which means the wolf has a chance to sway you to her side."
"Indeed. And she could offer me concrete profit, no doubt."
That is, she was able to swindle everyone so spectacularly that she gained the narwhal for herself. Eve, the former noblewoman, could then sell it off to the highest bidder. It was quite possible that she would then be able to offer him a sea of gold coins as compensation.
"I'd prefer not to have to deal with the wolf, but without doing so, there's no chance for success at all. She's simply that powerful."
Kieman's words were heavy with meaning.
It was already clear that the landlord's son who was so infatuated with Eve would not betray his family solely for his own gain. But if it was for Eve, that was another story.
Excuses were very powerful things.
| "Understood, then. I believe I see my role in all of this." Lawrence smiled, and Kieman returned the expression.
An exchange of smiles signified the conclusion of a secret deal. It was so in all the legends of clandestine, nervous dealings—bearded merchants snickering to each other over their successes.
"I'm glad to hear that. However..."
"However?" asked Lawrence, which made Kieman smile like a guileless boy.
"However, I truly thought I'd had you completely under my control. How...how did you regain your footing?"
At these words, Lawrence smiled and looked at the floor.
It was true, after all.
At the branch office on the delta, Lawrence had been completely trapped by Kieman—utterly and perfectly, like a puppet.
And yet after only a short time, the puppet had regained its soul. No wonder the puppet master was surprised.
Of course, Kieman himself ought to have some notion as to why.
So seeing Lawrence smile silently, Kieman spoke. "I apologize for asking such a foolish question. Neither merchants, knights, nor kings can accomplish so very much on their own. Priests are no different."
Lawrence understood merchants, knights, and kings—but not priests. Every great merchant, knight, or king had a great lover to become his wife and support him.
But what of priests?
"They have their God," Lawrence could not help murmuring to himself past his smile.
So with Holo supporting him, how far would he be able to go?
"Well, we're both walking on thin ice made solid only with lies—so let us each do our best, eh?" Still sitting, Kieman extended his hand.
Lawrence took it and gripped it with obvious force.
"Now then, I can't very well do side dealings all day. If you need to contact me, simply speak to the innkeeper. Also, we won't do anything so tasteless as eavesdropping on you, so if you'd be so kind to return the favor."
"Indeed. Doubt and misunderstanding lead always to misfortune."
Kieman nodded and stood.
Unlike their initial meeting in his office, he escorted Lawrence out of the room. "This should all be settled by the evening after tomorrow."
He hid the word desperately behind a sly smile.
"In that case even if we can't sleep from nerves, we should be able to see it through," said Lawrence, which made Kieman smile, and he began to walk.
His footsteps were easy and casual, and if someone had happened to chance upon that hallway, he would never have suspected that Kieman and Lawrence knew each other.
Alone in the hallway, Lawrence smiled wryly. "He didn't say a thing about what'll happen if we fail," he murmured.
He himself had done something similar in the Church city of Ruvinheigen—swindling a poor shepherdess by speaking only of the possible profits.
Back then he had felt nearly crushed with guilt for this. But what of it?
Kieman had acted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Lawrence had no confidence that he could be or act like that.
Thanks to Holo, he had a way to recover if the situation became truly untenable.
But that was absolutely a method of last resort for the sake of his own reassurance. What she really wanted was for him to extract his own share out of these dealings, not just complete his tasks safely.
Could he truly outwit such opponents?
He had no choice but to try, and having come this far, he rather wanted to.
Lawrence scratched his forehead and began to walk.
In the darkness, he bared his teeth in a smile.
He felt like reading an epic.
***
That evening, Lawrence was unable to sleep and not just because he had declared that it might be so.
Kieman would likely pass the night immersed in planning and preparation, but Lawrence had to worry about executing those plans.
He knew he was not particularly skilled.
Nearly any merchant would be seeking more information to try and gain the upper hand. But this time, Lawrence had to stay passive. And outwitting his opponent under such constraints required significant ability.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Understood, then. I believe I see my role in all of this." Lawrence smiled, and Kieman returned the expression.
An exchange of smiles signified the conclusion of a secret deal. It was so in all the legends of clandestine, nervous dealings—bearded merchants snickering to each other over their successes.
"I'm glad to hear that. However..."
"However?" asked Lawrence, which made Kieman smile like a guileless boy.
"However, I truly thought I'd had you completely under my control. How...how did you regain your footing?"
At these words, Lawrence smiled and looked at the floor.
It was true, after all.
At the branch office on the delta, Lawrence had been completely trapped by Kieman—utterly and perfectly, like a puppet.
And yet after only a short time, the puppet had regained its soul. No wonder the puppet master was surprised.
Of course, Kieman himself ought to have some notion as to why.
So seeing Lawrence smile silently, Kieman spoke. "I apologize for asking such a foolish question. Neither merchants, knights, nor kings can accomplish so very much on their own. Priests are no different."
Lawrence understood merchants, knights, and kings—but not priests. Every great merchant, knight, or king had a great lover to become his wife and support him.
But what of priests?
"They have their God," Lawrence could not help murmuring to himself past his smile.
So with Holo supporting him, how far would he be able to go?
"Well, we're both walking on thin ice made solid only with lies—so let us each do our best, eh?" Still sitting, Kieman extended his hand.
Lawrence took it and gripped it with obvious force.
"Now then, I can't very well do side dealings all day. If you need to contact me, simply speak to the innkeeper. Also, we won't do anything so tasteless as eavesdropping on you, so if you'd be so kind to return the favor."
"Indeed. Doubt and misunderstanding lead always to misfortune."
Kieman nodded and stood.
Unlike their initial meeting in his office, he escorted Lawrence out of the room. "This should all be settled by the evening after tomorrow."
He hid the word desperately behind a sly smile.
"In that case even if we can't sleep from nerves, we should be able to see it through," said Lawrence, which made Kieman smile, and he began to walk.
His footsteps were easy and casual, and if someone had happened to chance upon that hallway, he would never have suspected that Kieman and Lawrence knew each other.
Alone in the hallway, Lawrence smiled wryly. "He didn't say a thing about what'll happen if we fail," he murmured.
He himself had done something similar in the Church city of Ruvinheigen—swindling a poor shepherdess by speaking only of the possible profits.
Back then he had felt nearly crushed with guilt for this. But what of it?
Kieman had acted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Lawrence had no confidence that he could be or act like that.
Thanks to Holo, he had a way to recover if the situation became truly untenable.
But that was absolutely a method of last resort for the sake of his own reassurance. What she really wanted was for him to extract his own share out of these dealings, not just complete his tasks safely.
Could he truly outwit such opponents?
He had no choice but to try, and having come this far, he rather wanted to.
Lawrence scratched his forehead and began to walk.
In the darkness, he bared his teeth in a smile.
He felt like reading an epic.
***
That evening, Lawrence was unable to sleep and not just because he had declared that it might be so.
Kieman would likely pass the night immersed in planning and preparation, but Lawrence had to worry about executing those plans.
He knew he was not particularly skilled.
Nearly any merchant would be seeking more information to try and gain the upper hand. But this time, Lawrence had to stay passive. And outwitting his opponent under such constraints required significant ability.
| Without Holo, he would have unquestionably chosen self-preservation and acted as Kieman's pawn. In which case, he would most likely have been used and then abandoned.
Lawrence smiled self-deprecatingly and rolled over.
His bed was next to the cold windowsill, so if he lifted his head up a bit, he could see the faint blue moonlight slipping through the gaps in the window.
Lawrence realized how great the distance was between his own ability as a merchant and Eve's; he had to doff his hat to her. Against her, a man like Kieman was putting forth his greatest effort. And Lawrence had jumped into the middle of their battle.
Lawrence rolled over again and sighed.
He had no intention of turning back now, but he was still nervous. The more he willed himself to sleep, the more his eyes stubbornly remained open.
Smiling wryly to himself, Lawrence got out of bed, compelled by thirst, and he decided to feel a bit of the night breeze.
Owing to the chilly air, the copper water jug was cold, almost like ice. Swirling it gently, he walked through the silent inn.
The inn was built around an enclosed courtyard, and in the courtyard was a well. Farther south, most buildings were constructed along such lines. Naturally it was easy enough to differentiate between the buildings of different trading companies, but the basic layout was the same. This was not because people everywhere had somehow decided on it, but rather because the carpenters and masons that did the construction tended to travel around from work site to work site.
Before his travels had taken him far abroad, Lawrence had assumed that such buildings were common the world over. He could still remember the shock he first felt when he discovered this was not the case. The farther he ranged, the more he realized how narrow his preconceived notions had been. As the years passed, he came to realize how large and complicated the world was and how small he was by comparison. There were infinities above him and infinities below.
Someone else could always do what he could do, and no matter what he might think of, someone else had realized it sooner. There in the pale blue moonlight, Lawrence lowered the well bucket down into the skyward-facing mouth of the well.
Things did not generally go the way one would hope, and usually they were decided by surrounding circumstances.
Lawrence had become involved with Eve while in the process of collecting information about the wolf bones, but the real beginning had been their encounter in Lenos. And the reason they had arrived in Lenos was none other than Holo.
Lawrence was certain he was swimming toward his goal, but he was not in a pond; he was in a swiftly flowing river.
He pulled the bucket up and looked at the moon's reflection in the water within.
He wondered if it was a consequence of his dislike at being nothing but a minor character in the story he currently faced that made him think back to the delicate time when he had been just starting out as a merchant.
If Lawrence were a historian, he would not be able to categorize himself as the pivotal character in this. No, that would be Kieman—or Eve, perhaps.
He smiled ruefully at the thought, and the moon's reflection in the bucket distorted even as his face did.
Deciding this was all too silly, he looked up, and there was Holo. Somehow, he had expected her.
"'Tis a lovely night, is it not?"
Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she smiled as sweetly as a town girl on a sunny day.
Lawrence returned the smile and agreed. "It is."
"As the moon waxes and wanes, so too does my mood," said Holo, dipping her finger into the bucket, her breath coming out in faint white puffs. "You left the room so suggestively, I couldn't help but follow."
"Did I look so desperate to be spoken to?"
In place of a reply, Holo grinned.
"...I suppose I did." It was surely progress for him to be able to gracefully surrender.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Without Holo, he would have unquestionably chosen self-preservation and acted as Kieman's pawn. In which case, he would most likely have been used and then abandoned.
Lawrence smiled self-deprecatingly and rolled over.
His bed was next to the cold windowsill, so if he lifted his head up a bit, he could see the faint blue moonlight slipping through the gaps in the window.
Lawrence realized how great the distance was between his own ability as a merchant and Eve's; he had to doff his hat to her. Against her, a man like Kieman was putting forth his greatest effort. And Lawrence had jumped into the middle of their battle.
Lawrence rolled over again and sighed.
He had no intention of turning back now, but he was still nervous. The more he willed himself to sleep, the more his eyes stubbornly remained open.
Smiling wryly to himself, Lawrence got out of bed, compelled by thirst, and he decided to feel a bit of the night breeze.
Owing to the chilly air, the copper water jug was cold, almost like ice. Swirling it gently, he walked through the silent inn.
The inn was built around an enclosed courtyard, and in the courtyard was a well. Farther south, most buildings were constructed along such lines. Naturally it was easy enough to differentiate between the buildings of different trading companies, but the basic layout was the same. This was not because people everywhere had somehow decided on it, but rather because the carpenters and masons that did the construction tended to travel around from work site to work site.
Before his travels had taken him far abroad, Lawrence had assumed that such buildings were common the world over. He could still remember the shock he first felt when he discovered this was not the case. The farther he ranged, the more he realized how narrow his preconceived notions had been. As the years passed, he came to realize how large and complicated the world was and how small he was by comparison. There were infinities above him and infinities below.
Someone else could always do what he could do, and no matter what he might think of, someone else had realized it sooner. There in the pale blue moonlight, Lawrence lowered the well bucket down into the skyward-facing mouth of the well.
Things did not generally go the way one would hope, and usually they were decided by surrounding circumstances.
Lawrence had become involved with Eve while in the process of collecting information about the wolf bones, but the real beginning had been their encounter in Lenos. And the reason they had arrived in Lenos was none other than Holo.
Lawrence was certain he was swimming toward his goal, but he was not in a pond; he was in a swiftly flowing river.
He pulled the bucket up and looked at the moon's reflection in the water within.
He wondered if it was a consequence of his dislike at being nothing but a minor character in the story he currently faced that made him think back to the delicate time when he had been just starting out as a merchant.
If Lawrence were a historian, he would not be able to categorize himself as the pivotal character in this. No, that would be Kieman—or Eve, perhaps.
He smiled ruefully at the thought, and the moon's reflection in the bucket distorted even as his face did.
Deciding this was all too silly, he looked up, and there was Holo. Somehow, he had expected her.
"'Tis a lovely night, is it not?"
Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she smiled as sweetly as a town girl on a sunny day.
Lawrence returned the smile and agreed. "It is."
"As the moon waxes and wanes, so too does my mood," said Holo, dipping her finger into the bucket, her breath coming out in faint white puffs. "You left the room so suggestively, I couldn't help but follow."
"Did I look so desperate to be spoken to?"
In place of a reply, Holo grinned.
"...I suppose I did." It was surely progress for him to be able to gracefully surrender.
| "With me?"
"Aye."
"Are you going to teach me some secret technique for controlling human nature?" Lawrence asked, which made Holo chuckle quietly. She then sat at the edge of the well, still holding the cold pitcher.
"If it were so, I'd have no need to tell you. After all, I've been controlling your nature for quite some time, have I not? You should know how to do it yourself by now."
"I suppose you want me to answer, 'I guess you're right.'"
"There's a fine attitude."
Holo smiled, revealing her fangs, and the smile then receded like a tide rolling out.
She was a wolf of many faces. Like the waves of the sea when viewed from afar, there was no way of telling whether dangerous rocks lay beneath the surface. When the tide receded and the truth was revealed, there was no telling what extraordinary things could happen. Lawrence teasingly stroked her head, wondering how many times he had nearly been sunk on those rocks.
***
"Hmm?"
"I...I am regretting having pushed you into this."
Lawrence sat beside Holo.
She clutched the copper pitcher as if it were warming her, though it was probably even colder than the water.
"Well, I'm grateful. It's thanks to you that I can stand up to Kieman."
That was no lie. And yet Holo's ears moved busily as though trying to ascertain the truth of the words. Finally she looked down and nodded.
"That is what I regret."
"It is? Well...I suppose you should have let it go unsaid, then..."
"That is not what I mean." Holo shook her head and took a deep breath.
She then looked straight at Lawrence and continued speaking.
"One as clever as you can accomplish nearly anything so long as he has clear knowledge of his surroundings. But everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. I urged you on, despite knowing that what lay ahead was not something you were suited for. I knew it wasn't something you wished for."
It was true that Lawrence was heading straight into a conflict among town merchants, all of them very skilled and cunning.
But if he were to open a shop in a town somewhere, that would be the world he faced, so this did not seem like something with which Holo should be concerned.
Before he could say so, though, Holo headed him off.
"In any case, if you'd had the backbone to cross swords with them, you would've already been using my abilities to their fullest extent."
Surely Eve or Kieman would have done so.
They would have used Holo right from the start. From a logical perspective, she was the strongest weapon.
"You seem to wish for a steady, reliable course of events, and I can see that it suits you. But what I pushed you into is the precise opposite of that. Is it not so?"
It was so.
One needed only to look back on Lawrence's profits prior to meeting Holo to see. They gradually rose, and to that extent he was satisfied with the steady business he had been doing. Why did he want to have a shop in the first place? It was hardly as if he wanted to hold the world in the palm of his hands. It was nothing so grandiose—he simply wanted to be part of a smaller world, a town, and to have a place in that town.
"Still," Lawrence said, "Still, it hurts a bit to hear that you don't consider me suited to such things."
Holo's ears flicked beneath her hood. She slowly looked up. "But you aren't, are you?"
"When you say it so plainly, I can't seem to be angry at you." Lawrence gave a pained smile.
But as he looked up, his breath rose into the sky toward the moon, and the pain in that smile seemed to go with it, dissipating like so much smoke.
"But I'm not going to drop out of this story," he declared.
When Lawrence looked back down, he saw Holo making a face as if she had breathed in some of the bitterness he had exhaled.
"Especially when you make faces like that."
"Ugh..." She didn't try to hide her anxiety when he poked her forehead.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "With me?"
"Aye."
"Are you going to teach me some secret technique for controlling human nature?" Lawrence asked, which made Holo chuckle quietly. She then sat at the edge of the well, still holding the cold pitcher.
"If it were so, I'd have no need to tell you. After all, I've been controlling your nature for quite some time, have I not? You should know how to do it yourself by now."
"I suppose you want me to answer, 'I guess you're right.'"
"There's a fine attitude."
Holo smiled, revealing her fangs, and the smile then receded like a tide rolling out.
She was a wolf of many faces. Like the waves of the sea when viewed from afar, there was no way of telling whether dangerous rocks lay beneath the surface. When the tide receded and the truth was revealed, there was no telling what extraordinary things could happen. Lawrence teasingly stroked her head, wondering how many times he had nearly been sunk on those rocks.
***
"Hmm?"
"I...I am regretting having pushed you into this."
Lawrence sat beside Holo.
She clutched the copper pitcher as if it were warming her, though it was probably even colder than the water.
"Well, I'm grateful. It's thanks to you that I can stand up to Kieman."
That was no lie. And yet Holo's ears moved busily as though trying to ascertain the truth of the words. Finally she looked down and nodded.
"That is what I regret."
"It is? Well...I suppose you should have let it go unsaid, then..."
"That is not what I mean." Holo shook her head and took a deep breath.
She then looked straight at Lawrence and continued speaking.
"One as clever as you can accomplish nearly anything so long as he has clear knowledge of his surroundings. But everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. I urged you on, despite knowing that what lay ahead was not something you were suited for. I knew it wasn't something you wished for."
It was true that Lawrence was heading straight into a conflict among town merchants, all of them very skilled and cunning.
But if he were to open a shop in a town somewhere, that would be the world he faced, so this did not seem like something with which Holo should be concerned.
Before he could say so, though, Holo headed him off.
"In any case, if you'd had the backbone to cross swords with them, you would've already been using my abilities to their fullest extent."
Surely Eve or Kieman would have done so.
They would have used Holo right from the start. From a logical perspective, she was the strongest weapon.
"You seem to wish for a steady, reliable course of events, and I can see that it suits you. But what I pushed you into is the precise opposite of that. Is it not so?"
It was so.
One needed only to look back on Lawrence's profits prior to meeting Holo to see. They gradually rose, and to that extent he was satisfied with the steady business he had been doing. Why did he want to have a shop in the first place? It was hardly as if he wanted to hold the world in the palm of his hands. It was nothing so grandiose—he simply wanted to be part of a smaller world, a town, and to have a place in that town.
"Still," Lawrence said, "Still, it hurts a bit to hear that you don't consider me suited to such things."
Holo's ears flicked beneath her hood. She slowly looked up. "But you aren't, are you?"
"When you say it so plainly, I can't seem to be angry at you." Lawrence gave a pained smile.
But as he looked up, his breath rose into the sky toward the moon, and the pain in that smile seemed to go with it, dissipating like so much smoke.
"But I'm not going to drop out of this story," he declared.
When Lawrence looked back down, he saw Holo making a face as if she had breathed in some of the bitterness he had exhaled.
"Especially when you make faces like that."
"Ugh..." She didn't try to hide her anxiety when he poked her forehead.
| But Lawrence got the feeling that it was not just because he was not well suited to this particular problem.
"If you're this regretful, it must mean you're expecting me to encounter something extraordinary."
Holo hated it when Lawrence agonized alone and drew his own conclusions, but the truth was she did precisely the same thing. However, the clever Holo seemed to think silence was more effective than raising her voice to point that out.
"It seems as though you've plans to write about your travels with me."
"Huh?" He did remember saying something like that but failed to see any connection.
Holo glared at him a bit angrily, evidently expecting him to understand. But perhaps deciding that Lawrence was at the limits of his intellect, she pouted and continued.
"And if so, wouldn't that make you the protagonist? I wanted my protagonist to act like one. At least...at least if I'm to be but a side character."
In the tale of the destruction of her homelands by the Moon-Hunting Bear, Holo was not even a side character—she was out of the story entirely.
As she sat at the edge of the well, Holo's dangling legs made her seem very childlike indeed. And it was true, the wish to be a main character in the story of the world was a very childish one.
"But that is truly naught but my own selfishness. Should that desire put you in harm's way or cause you to wander so sadly out into a courtyard at night like this, it pains me," admitted Holo, putting a hand to her chest and wincing in apparent pain.
Lawrence pinched her right cheek lightly and replied, "I do see what you're trying to say, but..." As Holo rubbed her tweaked cheek in irritation, he had no choice but to strengthen his tone and continue. "The more you say such things, the more unable I am to back down."
This was because she had expectations of him.
When Holo had expectations of Lawrence, he had to live up to those expectations.
"Aye, and 'tis why I did not wish to tell you..."
"Because I'd be stubborn?" he shot back, grinning and earning a punch to his ribs.
Holo then regarded him with a look so serious it could hardly be a joke. "Surely you understand how costly 'twould be to ignore my care."
***
He was fully aware, and Holo saying as much amounted to her telling him she had high expectations.
Lawrence paused for an appropriate interval before nodding firmly. Naturally he took this very seriously.
But Holo regarded him dubiously. "Do you truly understand?"
"I believe I do."
"Truly?"
At her excessive persistence, he finally realized.
If she wished for him to be the protagonist of this story, what did that make her? If she could get everything she wanted by simply wishing and worrying, it was quite a role indeed.
The problem was that all through the ages, men had been weak against such opponents.
"Of course," Lawrence answered again, holding her warm body close in the moonlight.
Holo's tail wagged beneath her robe.
The world was a stage where all wished to be main characters, but things did not always proceed as they would like. In such a place, becoming the protagonist was no mean feat as even Lawrence knew.
But that changed when someone had put her trust in you.
Holo squirmed out of his arms and stood, and it seemed as if the weight on her chest had been lifted.
Just seeing that, Lawrence had no regrets.
"Come, fill the pitcher and let us return. 'Tis cold." It was surely not his imagination that she seemed to be trying to hide some measure of bashfulness.
Lawrence took the pitcher from Holo with his right hand and filled it with the water he had drawn. Holo held his left hand and giggled ticklishly.
Even if Lawrence was being manipulated by her, there was no question that the matter at hand had some connection to the wolf bones—and to Holo's desire.
The next day in the early afternoon, Lawrence was summoned by Kieman.
As he left the room, it was notable that the most anxious face was Col's.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But Lawrence got the feeling that it was not just because he was not well suited to this particular problem.
"If you're this regretful, it must mean you're expecting me to encounter something extraordinary."
Holo hated it when Lawrence agonized alone and drew his own conclusions, but the truth was she did precisely the same thing. However, the clever Holo seemed to think silence was more effective than raising her voice to point that out.
"It seems as though you've plans to write about your travels with me."
"Huh?" He did remember saying something like that but failed to see any connection.
Holo glared at him a bit angrily, evidently expecting him to understand. But perhaps deciding that Lawrence was at the limits of his intellect, she pouted and continued.
"And if so, wouldn't that make you the protagonist? I wanted my protagonist to act like one. At least...at least if I'm to be but a side character."
In the tale of the destruction of her homelands by the Moon-Hunting Bear, Holo was not even a side character—she was out of the story entirely.
As she sat at the edge of the well, Holo's dangling legs made her seem very childlike indeed. And it was true, the wish to be a main character in the story of the world was a very childish one.
"But that is truly naught but my own selfishness. Should that desire put you in harm's way or cause you to wander so sadly out into a courtyard at night like this, it pains me," admitted Holo, putting a hand to her chest and wincing in apparent pain.
Lawrence pinched her right cheek lightly and replied, "I do see what you're trying to say, but..." As Holo rubbed her tweaked cheek in irritation, he had no choice but to strengthen his tone and continue. "The more you say such things, the more unable I am to back down."
This was because she had expectations of him.
When Holo had expectations of Lawrence, he had to live up to those expectations.
"Aye, and 'tis why I did not wish to tell you..."
"Because I'd be stubborn?" he shot back, grinning and earning a punch to his ribs.
Holo then regarded him with a look so serious it could hardly be a joke. "Surely you understand how costly 'twould be to ignore my care."
***
He was fully aware, and Holo saying as much amounted to her telling him she had high expectations.
Lawrence paused for an appropriate interval before nodding firmly. Naturally he took this very seriously.
But Holo regarded him dubiously. "Do you truly understand?"
"I believe I do."
"Truly?"
At her excessive persistence, he finally realized.
If she wished for him to be the protagonist of this story, what did that make her? If she could get everything she wanted by simply wishing and worrying, it was quite a role indeed.
The problem was that all through the ages, men had been weak against such opponents.
"Of course," Lawrence answered again, holding her warm body close in the moonlight.
Holo's tail wagged beneath her robe.
The world was a stage where all wished to be main characters, but things did not always proceed as they would like. In such a place, becoming the protagonist was no mean feat as even Lawrence knew.
But that changed when someone had put her trust in you.
Holo squirmed out of his arms and stood, and it seemed as if the weight on her chest had been lifted.
Just seeing that, Lawrence had no regrets.
"Come, fill the pitcher and let us return. 'Tis cold." It was surely not his imagination that she seemed to be trying to hide some measure of bashfulness.
Lawrence took the pitcher from Holo with his right hand and filled it with the water he had drawn. Holo held his left hand and giggled ticklishly.
Even if Lawrence was being manipulated by her, there was no question that the matter at hand had some connection to the wolf bones—and to Holo's desire.
The next day in the early afternoon, Lawrence was summoned by Kieman.
As he left the room, it was notable that the most anxious face was Col's.
| It would have been a mighty feat indeed to outwit them all, and from this point on, Lawrence would take his orders from Kieman and try instead to outwit the northern landlords.
As long as Eve did not betray him, all would be well. Such had been the conclusion of his discussion with Kieman the previous night, Kieman no doubt already having done the necessary background work.
What was being asked of Lawrence was not so difficult a thing. He merely had to maintain the trust of the lone wolf Eve and ensure that things proceeded smoothly.
That was all.
"Do you truly not mind leaving your companion behind?"
"No, it is fine."
The trading house had been busy all morning, so Lawrence had only a few moments to speak with Kieman before setting out. As the master of the branch, Kieman wore fine clothes with a crisply starched collar.
Given that negotiations between the northern landlords and southern merchants were happening on the delta, leaving Holo and Col behind would make it seem as if they had been taken hostage, which might have been why Kieman went to the trouble of asking whether they would go along with Lawrence.
"So then, you have only to explain to Madam Bolan what I told you earlier. My own preparations have become rather complicated, so any independent action on your part could easily create small holes, which will quickly become large problems," said Kieman, looking firmly into Lawrence's eyes.
Lawrence nodded calmly in return. Even if he had been told the complete plan, he was sure he would not have understood it. Even Holo and Col could run circles around him, politically.
Just as Kieman could hardly spend two weeks on rough mountain roads while subsisting on nothing but rye bread and rainwater, Lawrence could not maneuver the way Kieman could.
The more he did as he was told, the safer he would be.
The only decision he would make independently was the very last one, at the moment when events had progressed to such that he could judge for himself whether to cooperate or defect.
Kieman seemed to want to say more, but a knock upon the room's door interrupted him. The merchant delegation had assembled and was ready to depart.
It was time.
"Well, then. I shall be counting on you."
Having fully received Kieman's orders, Lawrence left the room just as others entered. The trading house's dining hall had a tense atmosphere, as if a battle were approaching.
Of course, the troops on this side felt the strange nervousness of imminent victory. They needed no goddess of victory—they had the narwhal.
It was as if they were only discussing whose victory would be greatest.
Early on, it seemed that the guild seizing the northern vessel that had originally caught the narwhal would be the ultimate victor. Even members of the Rowen Trade Guild were whispering that it would be difficult to gain the initiative in the negotiations.
Of course, that was no reason to give up, and the group of scruffy merchants in the corner, who pantomimed rowing or fell fast asleep on the tables, had already gotten an early taste of conflict as part of the southern camp.
Knights and mercenaries were a practical sort and tended not to dwell over shares of riches not yet won. By contrast, merchants loved to count chickens before they hatched, and there was no doubt the previous night had seen many arguments over shares of profits. They were probably ongoing.
Several carriages waited in front of the guild house for Chief Jeeta and Kieman, and a steady stream of raggedly dressed beggars—spies for their merchant masters—constantly filtered between them.
Lawrence remembered the term Eve had used back in Lenos, the town of lumber and fur.
A trade war.
The fact that the atmosphere made Lawrence's heart beat faster was not because he was on the verge of an important negotiation.
It was because he had been born a man, and to a man, this atmosphere was inherently appealing.
"Fellows!"
At this sudden raised voice, all chatter fell silent.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It would have been a mighty feat indeed to outwit them all, and from this point on, Lawrence would take his orders from Kieman and try instead to outwit the northern landlords.
As long as Eve did not betray him, all would be well. Such had been the conclusion of his discussion with Kieman the previous night, Kieman no doubt already having done the necessary background work.
What was being asked of Lawrence was not so difficult a thing. He merely had to maintain the trust of the lone wolf Eve and ensure that things proceeded smoothly.
That was all.
"Do you truly not mind leaving your companion behind?"
"No, it is fine."
The trading house had been busy all morning, so Lawrence had only a few moments to speak with Kieman before setting out. As the master of the branch, Kieman wore fine clothes with a crisply starched collar.
Given that negotiations between the northern landlords and southern merchants were happening on the delta, leaving Holo and Col behind would make it seem as if they had been taken hostage, which might have been why Kieman went to the trouble of asking whether they would go along with Lawrence.
"So then, you have only to explain to Madam Bolan what I told you earlier. My own preparations have become rather complicated, so any independent action on your part could easily create small holes, which will quickly become large problems," said Kieman, looking firmly into Lawrence's eyes.
Lawrence nodded calmly in return. Even if he had been told the complete plan, he was sure he would not have understood it. Even Holo and Col could run circles around him, politically.
Just as Kieman could hardly spend two weeks on rough mountain roads while subsisting on nothing but rye bread and rainwater, Lawrence could not maneuver the way Kieman could.
The more he did as he was told, the safer he would be.
The only decision he would make independently was the very last one, at the moment when events had progressed to such that he could judge for himself whether to cooperate or defect.
Kieman seemed to want to say more, but a knock upon the room's door interrupted him. The merchant delegation had assembled and was ready to depart.
It was time.
"Well, then. I shall be counting on you."
Having fully received Kieman's orders, Lawrence left the room just as others entered. The trading house's dining hall had a tense atmosphere, as if a battle were approaching.
Of course, the troops on this side felt the strange nervousness of imminent victory. They needed no goddess of victory—they had the narwhal.
It was as if they were only discussing whose victory would be greatest.
Early on, it seemed that the guild seizing the northern vessel that had originally caught the narwhal would be the ultimate victor. Even members of the Rowen Trade Guild were whispering that it would be difficult to gain the initiative in the negotiations.
Of course, that was no reason to give up, and the group of scruffy merchants in the corner, who pantomimed rowing or fell fast asleep on the tables, had already gotten an early taste of conflict as part of the southern camp.
Knights and mercenaries were a practical sort and tended not to dwell over shares of riches not yet won. By contrast, merchants loved to count chickens before they hatched, and there was no doubt the previous night had seen many arguments over shares of profits. They were probably ongoing.
Several carriages waited in front of the guild house for Chief Jeeta and Kieman, and a steady stream of raggedly dressed beggars—spies for their merchant masters—constantly filtered between them.
Lawrence remembered the term Eve had used back in Lenos, the town of lumber and fur.
A trade war.
The fact that the atmosphere made Lawrence's heart beat faster was not because he was on the verge of an important negotiation.
It was because he had been born a man, and to a man, this atmosphere was inherently appealing.
"Fellows!"
At this sudden raised voice, all chatter fell silent.
| Kieman had denounced him as a mere opportunist, but the same could have been said of anyone who tried to avoid calamity. And while Kieman dressed like a nobleman, Jeeta wore loose robes, which lent him the unmistakable gravity of old age.
He surveyed the assemblage with eyes that seemed able to gaze a century into the future.
"In the name of our patron, Saint Lambardos, may our guild be triumphant!"
"To triumph!"
Cheered on by the merchants, Jeeta and his escorts left the guild house. Kieman never once glanced at Lawrence, exchanging words with others before boarding the carriage that was departing the guild house.
At this sight, Lawrence felt his hand spontaneously rise to his chest—how strange it was that with such a spectacle before him, he was a crucial part of a plan that would reverse the situation entirely.
If Holo had been next to him, she surely would have mocked this sudden swell of a traveling merchant's courage. She would have laughed even—he was certainly laughing at himself.
River crossings were no longer banned, so following the guild chief's procession came merchants, some of whom were merely watching the proceedings and others who, like Lawrence, had tasks to perform.
Lawrence mingled toward the rear of the group and made for the Roam River.
Amid all the people emerging from the guild houses and trading companies lined along it, the avenue took on a peculiar atmosphere. Business was being conducted as usual, and it was hardly the case that everyone in town was a merchant.
Yet the flow of merchants heading north called to mind the northern campaigns. The church bell rang, its strangely urgent sound echoing.
The ferrymen were treating their passengers with a strange deference, totally unlike their usual rudeness. The riverbanks were lined with onlookers alongside soldiers armed with pikes and axes to ensure that nothing happened.
A particularly weakhearted merchant found himself overwhelmed by the spectacle, and his knees started knocking when a faintly rocking boat heaved him up onto the pier.
But nobody laughed at him. All were silent as they converged on the delta.
It was not Lawrence's imagination that those unrelated to trade were watching as if witnessing something very strange unfolding. In older days, disputes over land were resolved by the sword and were easy to understand. But now they were fought with parchment and ink, so it was no wonder that to outsiders it seemed like so much sorcery.
Lawrence himself had the same impression.
The way that money appeared after a negotiation was not unlike a sorcerer summoning a demon with a magic circle. No wonder the Church was so strict with merchants and their relentless quest for money—the entire business seemed as though it had to be aided by some sort of devil.
Without anyone particular in the lead, the crowd simply flowed. They made their way to the spring of gold, where the costliest items on the delta changed hands. On the tables there were parchments describing an item so valuable it couldn't be traded for coin. And perhaps not for influence, prestige, or pride.
Those like Lawrence—small-fry merchants—found themselves stopped in their path, with only higher-status, wealthier merchants allowed to proceed. Groups similarly arriving from the north were seated. The men of both groups seemed well accustomed to giving orders with mere motions of their chins, as though this were some meeting of ancient wise men.
But here and now, it was the southerners who clearly held the upper hand. Their clothing, their retainers, and their bearing all spoke of wealth and power. By contrast, all the northerners had was their dignity. And even that was shaky, supported only by their shouting.
The southerners' seats were all assigned, and Chief Jeeta sat three seats to the right of the finely dressed old man in the center.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Kieman had denounced him as a mere opportunist, but the same could have been said of anyone who tried to avoid calamity. And while Kieman dressed like a nobleman, Jeeta wore loose robes, which lent him the unmistakable gravity of old age.
He surveyed the assemblage with eyes that seemed able to gaze a century into the future.
"In the name of our patron, Saint Lambardos, may our guild be triumphant!"
"To triumph!"
Cheered on by the merchants, Jeeta and his escorts left the guild house. Kieman never once glanced at Lawrence, exchanging words with others before boarding the carriage that was departing the guild house.
At this sight, Lawrence felt his hand spontaneously rise to his chest—how strange it was that with such a spectacle before him, he was a crucial part of a plan that would reverse the situation entirely.
If Holo had been next to him, she surely would have mocked this sudden swell of a traveling merchant's courage. She would have laughed even—he was certainly laughing at himself.
River crossings were no longer banned, so following the guild chief's procession came merchants, some of whom were merely watching the proceedings and others who, like Lawrence, had tasks to perform.
Lawrence mingled toward the rear of the group and made for the Roam River.
Amid all the people emerging from the guild houses and trading companies lined along it, the avenue took on a peculiar atmosphere. Business was being conducted as usual, and it was hardly the case that everyone in town was a merchant.
Yet the flow of merchants heading north called to mind the northern campaigns. The church bell rang, its strangely urgent sound echoing.
The ferrymen were treating their passengers with a strange deference, totally unlike their usual rudeness. The riverbanks were lined with onlookers alongside soldiers armed with pikes and axes to ensure that nothing happened.
A particularly weakhearted merchant found himself overwhelmed by the spectacle, and his knees started knocking when a faintly rocking boat heaved him up onto the pier.
But nobody laughed at him. All were silent as they converged on the delta.
It was not Lawrence's imagination that those unrelated to trade were watching as if witnessing something very strange unfolding. In older days, disputes over land were resolved by the sword and were easy to understand. But now they were fought with parchment and ink, so it was no wonder that to outsiders it seemed like so much sorcery.
Lawrence himself had the same impression.
The way that money appeared after a negotiation was not unlike a sorcerer summoning a demon with a magic circle. No wonder the Church was so strict with merchants and their relentless quest for money—the entire business seemed as though it had to be aided by some sort of devil.
Without anyone particular in the lead, the crowd simply flowed. They made their way to the spring of gold, where the costliest items on the delta changed hands. On the tables there were parchments describing an item so valuable it couldn't be traded for coin. And perhaps not for influence, prestige, or pride.
Those like Lawrence—small-fry merchants—found themselves stopped in their path, with only higher-status, wealthier merchants allowed to proceed. Groups similarly arriving from the north were seated. The men of both groups seemed well accustomed to giving orders with mere motions of their chins, as though this were some meeting of ancient wise men.
But here and now, it was the southerners who clearly held the upper hand. Their clothing, their retainers, and their bearing all spoke of wealth and power. By contrast, all the northerners had was their dignity. And even that was shaky, supported only by their shouting.
The southerners' seats were all assigned, and Chief Jeeta sat three seats to the right of the finely dressed old man in the center.
| But given this situation, it wasn't obvious what the Rowen Trade Guild's profits would be. All Lawrence could tell was that at this rate, the rewards would go to Jeeta, and those below him would receive comparatively little. Lawrence imagined the profits bypassing the guilds entirely and being instead divided evenly, and he couldn't help smiling at the thought.
That was how absurd the idea was.
At length, the northerners had all found their seats at the table. Behind them sat men who were presumably their retainer merchants, who whispered into their masters' ears. This seemed to be a last-minute strategy conference, and their faces were uniformly grave.
Among them, behind the best-dressed man at the northerner's table, was a face Lawrence recognized.
It was none other than Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company.
He wore what everyone else was wearing, what must have been formal attire by the local standards—a tall, thin hat. And had circumstances been different, he would have been the mediator whose goal was to choke off the northerners for good, so seeing the truth here was frightening indeed.
Or if Kieman had called upon Reynolds after all, would he have then betrayed Lawrence? Lawrence didn't know the truth, but as he gazed at the distant Reynolds, he suddenly got the feeling that Reynolds was looking right back at him. The man was being watched by countless other merchants, though, so it was hard to imagine that he had singled Lawrence out.
Lawrence's feeling that their eyes had met only proved how nervously self-conscious he was.
And he was very nervous indeed.
Eve was nowhere to be seen.
According to Kieman's explanation, she wouldn't be at the center of activity—and that appeared to be so.
Eve's job was to manage the under-the-table dealings.
Perhaps even at this moment she was drowning in love letters from the men desperate to outwit those around them and gain all the profit.
Lawrence, too, had a bouquet to present her, so he turned on his heel and headed away from the crowd.
Not long after, he heard a high voice declare the commencement of negotiations. It was a southern voice that made the declaration, which left no doubt as to the entirely ceremonial nature of the proceedings.
But rituals were used to pray to the gods.
As he thought about what the men at that table might be praying for, Lawrence loosened his collar, terribly afraid.
***
Just as there are any number of paths to reach the summit of a mountain, there were many ways to contact Eve. Strangely, Lawrence had been directed to meet her at the same plain inn where Holo had brought Col for her drunken ramble.
There were no customers on the ground floor, but the innkeeper seemed mostly unconcerned, as someone from the north had rented out the entire inn. Every inn and tavern on the delta would be like this today.
Lawrence handed over a weathered copper coin with the face of a long-gone king on it, and in return, the innkeeper placed an empty cup on the counter and indicated the inn's staircase. "There you are."
He was being told to take the cup upstairs.
Lawrence did as he was told, climbing the staircase, and at the end of the hallway, he saw the form of a merchant speaking to someone. He would have overlooked the person, but for the fact that no good merchant ever forgets a face.
Despite the fake beard and the cotton he had stuffed his clothes with in order to change his figure, one of the men was clearly one of Eve's lookouts.
Lawrence faced him yet again, which earned him a sharp glare.
"How's business?"
Lawrence stopped for a moment, but overcame his trepidation and walked up to the men, greeting the one he hadn't met before. He realized he was being asked for some sort of password, so he calmly turned his cup upside down. "So bad I can't even drink," he answered.
His interrogator grinned and indicated the door next to him. The nails on his hand were twisted and deformed, probably because he was used to hard physical labor.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But given this situation, it wasn't obvious what the Rowen Trade Guild's profits would be. All Lawrence could tell was that at this rate, the rewards would go to Jeeta, and those below him would receive comparatively little. Lawrence imagined the profits bypassing the guilds entirely and being instead divided evenly, and he couldn't help smiling at the thought.
That was how absurd the idea was.
At length, the northerners had all found their seats at the table. Behind them sat men who were presumably their retainer merchants, who whispered into their masters' ears. This seemed to be a last-minute strategy conference, and their faces were uniformly grave.
Among them, behind the best-dressed man at the northerner's table, was a face Lawrence recognized.
It was none other than Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company.
He wore what everyone else was wearing, what must have been formal attire by the local standards—a tall, thin hat. And had circumstances been different, he would have been the mediator whose goal was to choke off the northerners for good, so seeing the truth here was frightening indeed.
Or if Kieman had called upon Reynolds after all, would he have then betrayed Lawrence? Lawrence didn't know the truth, but as he gazed at the distant Reynolds, he suddenly got the feeling that Reynolds was looking right back at him. The man was being watched by countless other merchants, though, so it was hard to imagine that he had singled Lawrence out.
Lawrence's feeling that their eyes had met only proved how nervously self-conscious he was.
And he was very nervous indeed.
Eve was nowhere to be seen.
According to Kieman's explanation, she wouldn't be at the center of activity—and that appeared to be so.
Eve's job was to manage the under-the-table dealings.
Perhaps even at this moment she was drowning in love letters from the men desperate to outwit those around them and gain all the profit.
Lawrence, too, had a bouquet to present her, so he turned on his heel and headed away from the crowd.
Not long after, he heard a high voice declare the commencement of negotiations. It was a southern voice that made the declaration, which left no doubt as to the entirely ceremonial nature of the proceedings.
But rituals were used to pray to the gods.
As he thought about what the men at that table might be praying for, Lawrence loosened his collar, terribly afraid.
***
Just as there are any number of paths to reach the summit of a mountain, there were many ways to contact Eve. Strangely, Lawrence had been directed to meet her at the same plain inn where Holo had brought Col for her drunken ramble.
There were no customers on the ground floor, but the innkeeper seemed mostly unconcerned, as someone from the north had rented out the entire inn. Every inn and tavern on the delta would be like this today.
Lawrence handed over a weathered copper coin with the face of a long-gone king on it, and in return, the innkeeper placed an empty cup on the counter and indicated the inn's staircase. "There you are."
He was being told to take the cup upstairs.
Lawrence did as he was told, climbing the staircase, and at the end of the hallway, he saw the form of a merchant speaking to someone. He would have overlooked the person, but for the fact that no good merchant ever forgets a face.
Despite the fake beard and the cotton he had stuffed his clothes with in order to change his figure, one of the men was clearly one of Eve's lookouts.
Lawrence faced him yet again, which earned him a sharp glare.
"How's business?"
Lawrence stopped for a moment, but overcame his trepidation and walked up to the men, greeting the one he hadn't met before. He realized he was being asked for some sort of password, so he calmly turned his cup upside down. "So bad I can't even drink," he answered.
His interrogator grinned and indicated the door next to him. The nails on his hand were twisted and deformed, probably because he was used to hard physical labor.
| It turned out to be the scent coming from an old man in the corner, who was melting candle wax to use for seals.
"Have you any idea how much it saddens me to see you here?"
Physical and mental exhaustion were not the same. Eve's face wore the exhaustion of having read too much, and she smiled, leaning her cheek against her hand, which was propped up by her elbow on a table that overflowed with letters and documents.
"Was it time for your nap?"
"Exactly so. Look how much I've been talking in my sleep."
Lawrence stood in the entrance, yet even there were papers scattered about his feet.
He took a casual look at them—the ones he could easily see included two threats, three unverifiable accusations that such-and-such a person on the north was secretly connected with so-and-so on the south, three invitations of alliance, and one invitation to flee to a foreign country.
Lawrence picked up that last one—it seemed the most amusing—and brought it to Eve.
"Once I was crossing the sea out there, and I happened to be on a ship with a group of pilgrims. We had the rotten luck to be attacked by pirates." Just as Lawrence wondered what Eve's sudden speech had to do with anything, Eve took the letter from him and began to neatly fold it up. "At first the cowering pilgrims prayed to God, but once several sailors were killed and it seemed all hope was lost, what do you think they started doing?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Lawrence, and Eve continued, amused.
"Those pilgrims finally started just going at it! I watched them do it and thought to myself what strange, powerful creatures humans are."
A poet had once said that fear for one's life was the greatest aphrodisiac.
But a question remained.
"So what did you do, Miss Eve?"
Eve tossed the neatly folded letter into the fireplace. "I went through their belongings to collect the money I'd need to buy my own life back." Her dry lips did not move, but her eyes crinkled in a smile.
Lawrence shrugged and produced a piece of parchment from his breast pocket. "I was told to give this to you."
"There's no need for me to see it," said Eve, which made the old man who was stirring the molten wax look up at them.
Eve turned to him and made a gesture with her finger, and the old man turned his attention back to the wax.
It seemed the old man was deaf. Either that or they wanted Lawrence to guess as much and thus feel free to speak.
"All I'm interested in is whether you're my ally or not."
"Or more accurately, whether I'll listen to what you tell me to do in the end or not."
Eve really did smile with her eyes, not her lips. Not replying to Lawrence's statement, she instead held her hand out. Lawrence handed her the parchment, which she read as though it were a letter of no particular consequence.
"Hmm...it's so close to my expectations it's a bit unnerving. Almost as though you told them about our secret meeting."
"You jest," Lawrence answered with his best merchant's smile, and a bored-looking Eve set the parchment down on the table.
"So, he's finally come to the table, has he...?" she murmured, closing her eyes.
At the very least, she seemed to be considering the parchment Lawrence brought her for longer than the other.
"What do you think?" Eve asked, her eyes still closed.
It was still too early to bargain.
"Given that you've received my message, my job's been completed without incident."
"The northern landlords exchange a note of deed transfer of their land for the narwhal. I split the profits with the northern traitor, and your guild gets the profit from having bested their competitors."
"Everybody's satisfied," said Lawrence, which made Eve sigh and rub at the corners of her eyes.
"It's a hard thing, not being able to see the hearts of others with your own eyes."
The only people who could trust in their partners and be sure a trade would go smoothly were those who had never seen betrayal. And those that planned to cheat another—who could also boast that their own trades would go well?
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It turned out to be the scent coming from an old man in the corner, who was melting candle wax to use for seals.
"Have you any idea how much it saddens me to see you here?"
Physical and mental exhaustion were not the same. Eve's face wore the exhaustion of having read too much, and she smiled, leaning her cheek against her hand, which was propped up by her elbow on a table that overflowed with letters and documents.
"Was it time for your nap?"
"Exactly so. Look how much I've been talking in my sleep."
Lawrence stood in the entrance, yet even there were papers scattered about his feet.
He took a casual look at them—the ones he could easily see included two threats, three unverifiable accusations that such-and-such a person on the north was secretly connected with so-and-so on the south, three invitations of alliance, and one invitation to flee to a foreign country.
Lawrence picked up that last one—it seemed the most amusing—and brought it to Eve.
"Once I was crossing the sea out there, and I happened to be on a ship with a group of pilgrims. We had the rotten luck to be attacked by pirates." Just as Lawrence wondered what Eve's sudden speech had to do with anything, Eve took the letter from him and began to neatly fold it up. "At first the cowering pilgrims prayed to God, but once several sailors were killed and it seemed all hope was lost, what do you think they started doing?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Lawrence, and Eve continued, amused.
"Those pilgrims finally started just going at it! I watched them do it and thought to myself what strange, powerful creatures humans are."
A poet had once said that fear for one's life was the greatest aphrodisiac.
But a question remained.
"So what did you do, Miss Eve?"
Eve tossed the neatly folded letter into the fireplace. "I went through their belongings to collect the money I'd need to buy my own life back." Her dry lips did not move, but her eyes crinkled in a smile.
Lawrence shrugged and produced a piece of parchment from his breast pocket. "I was told to give this to you."
"There's no need for me to see it," said Eve, which made the old man who was stirring the molten wax look up at them.
Eve turned to him and made a gesture with her finger, and the old man turned his attention back to the wax.
It seemed the old man was deaf. Either that or they wanted Lawrence to guess as much and thus feel free to speak.
"All I'm interested in is whether you're my ally or not."
"Or more accurately, whether I'll listen to what you tell me to do in the end or not."
Eve really did smile with her eyes, not her lips. Not replying to Lawrence's statement, she instead held her hand out. Lawrence handed her the parchment, which she read as though it were a letter of no particular consequence.
"Hmm...it's so close to my expectations it's a bit unnerving. Almost as though you told them about our secret meeting."
"You jest," Lawrence answered with his best merchant's smile, and a bored-looking Eve set the parchment down on the table.
"So, he's finally come to the table, has he...?" she murmured, closing her eyes.
At the very least, she seemed to be considering the parchment Lawrence brought her for longer than the other.
"What do you think?" Eve asked, her eyes still closed.
It was still too early to bargain.
"Given that you've received my message, my job's been completed without incident."
"The northern landlords exchange a note of deed transfer of their land for the narwhal. I split the profits with the northern traitor, and your guild gets the profit from having bested their competitors."
"Everybody's satisfied," said Lawrence, which made Eve sigh and rub at the corners of her eyes.
"It's a hard thing, not being able to see the hearts of others with your own eyes."
The only people who could trust in their partners and be sure a trade would go smoothly were those who had never seen betrayal. And those that planned to cheat another—who could also boast that their own trades would go well?
| "No."
"Does it seem realistically possible to secretly steal the narwhal?"
"Perhaps by bribing the guards on watch."
"The deed transfer will be written by the landlord's son, who has no actual authority. It may not carry any actual weight. What does Kieman plan to do about that?"
"The third-generation head has already paid his respects to the nearby landlords, and jurisdiction of the town is shared by the council, the Church, and the landlords. So long as they have grounds to assert their rights, things should work out."
"I see. And you believe what Kieman says?" From her sitting position, Eve looked down her nose at Lawrence like a noblewoman regarding a piteous commoner. She spoke as though she was sure that Kieman waited to spring a trap on her.
"I do not believe his words, but I am going along with him."
Eve turned her gaze away from Lawrence. "A perfect answer. But not enough to bridge the distance that separates us."
Did this mean that she could not accept Kieman's proposal? Lawrence hardly believed the entirety of the man's plan, but it didn't seem like such a bad trade for Eve.
Lawrence put a question to her. "What would be the best choice for you, Miss Eve?"
"I told you, didn't I? To betray one and all and take all the profit for myself."
"You couldn't possibly—" Lawrence blurted out in spite of himself.
Eve smiled, amused. She seemed to want him to continue.
"Why would you be so childishly selfish?"
If Eve proposed the same detail to Kieman that he was bringing her, he was certain to accept on the spot. He would have been delighted.
So why did Eve insist on being so stubbornly persistent? Whatever her reason, it still seemed strange to Lawrence.
Or was it just as simple as that—that she absolutely did not want to share any of her gains? Was it really something so utterly unreasonable as that?
"Childish? That's right, it's childish." Eve laughed and breathed in. When she exhaled, her breath was strong enough to move some of the papers on the surface of her desk. "When a child burns herself in a fireplace, she fears it even when the fire is out."
"...If that were so, then merchants would have no choice but to sit alone in empty rooms, trembling and afraid."
Merchants were burned, deceived—then went out to seek profit again. And wasn't Eve herself the exemplar of that ideal? Wasn't her being the lynchpin of events that would determine who controlled an important port town like Kerube the proof of that?
Lawrence advanced on Eve, half-angry, and found her wary gaze directed right at him.
"I wasn't always a merchant."
***
Lawrence flinched at her suddenly meek, pathetic voice.
Eve flashed a quick smile at Lawrence's reaction, then flopped forward onto the table. Paper went flying.
The deaf, old man hurried to his feet, but Eve, still lying on the table, gave him a faint smile. "Don't you think it ridiculous? That by exchanging a few slips of paper and a few of the formless words that come from our mouths, we can gain such money as can buy a human life."
Eve picked up a sheet of paper and dropped it. She then slowly directed her gaze at Lawrence. "Have you ever been betrayed by someone you completely trusted? Whom can you trust then? The only one I trust is myself when I'm betraying another."
A beast's fangs could be used to attack, but also to defend one's self. So was the reason Eve kept her fangs so sharp because she felt she needed to defend herself that much?
"When your own life was on the line, you asked me, didn't you? What lies at the end of my road of greed? And I answered, didn't I? What I'm looking forward to..." Eve slowly closed her eyes and then slowly opened them. "...Is that someday I'll be satisfied, and I'll be able to reach a world with no worry, and no suffering."
Lawrence took a step back because he was truly frightened.
Aiming for a world without worry and suffering but trying to reach it via constant betrayal—it was like being shown the source of human sin.
This was no act.
It was not a trap.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "No."
"Does it seem realistically possible to secretly steal the narwhal?"
"Perhaps by bribing the guards on watch."
"The deed transfer will be written by the landlord's son, who has no actual authority. It may not carry any actual weight. What does Kieman plan to do about that?"
"The third-generation head has already paid his respects to the nearby landlords, and jurisdiction of the town is shared by the council, the Church, and the landlords. So long as they have grounds to assert their rights, things should work out."
"I see. And you believe what Kieman says?" From her sitting position, Eve looked down her nose at Lawrence like a noblewoman regarding a piteous commoner. She spoke as though she was sure that Kieman waited to spring a trap on her.
"I do not believe his words, but I am going along with him."
Eve turned her gaze away from Lawrence. "A perfect answer. But not enough to bridge the distance that separates us."
Did this mean that she could not accept Kieman's proposal? Lawrence hardly believed the entirety of the man's plan, but it didn't seem like such a bad trade for Eve.
Lawrence put a question to her. "What would be the best choice for you, Miss Eve?"
"I told you, didn't I? To betray one and all and take all the profit for myself."
"You couldn't possibly—" Lawrence blurted out in spite of himself.
Eve smiled, amused. She seemed to want him to continue.
"Why would you be so childishly selfish?"
If Eve proposed the same detail to Kieman that he was bringing her, he was certain to accept on the spot. He would have been delighted.
So why did Eve insist on being so stubbornly persistent? Whatever her reason, it still seemed strange to Lawrence.
Or was it just as simple as that—that she absolutely did not want to share any of her gains? Was it really something so utterly unreasonable as that?
"Childish? That's right, it's childish." Eve laughed and breathed in. When she exhaled, her breath was strong enough to move some of the papers on the surface of her desk. "When a child burns herself in a fireplace, she fears it even when the fire is out."
"...If that were so, then merchants would have no choice but to sit alone in empty rooms, trembling and afraid."
Merchants were burned, deceived—then went out to seek profit again. And wasn't Eve herself the exemplar of that ideal? Wasn't her being the lynchpin of events that would determine who controlled an important port town like Kerube the proof of that?
Lawrence advanced on Eve, half-angry, and found her wary gaze directed right at him.
"I wasn't always a merchant."
***
Lawrence flinched at her suddenly meek, pathetic voice.
Eve flashed a quick smile at Lawrence's reaction, then flopped forward onto the table. Paper went flying.
The deaf, old man hurried to his feet, but Eve, still lying on the table, gave him a faint smile. "Don't you think it ridiculous? That by exchanging a few slips of paper and a few of the formless words that come from our mouths, we can gain such money as can buy a human life."
Eve picked up a sheet of paper and dropped it. She then slowly directed her gaze at Lawrence. "Have you ever been betrayed by someone you completely trusted? Whom can you trust then? The only one I trust is myself when I'm betraying another."
A beast's fangs could be used to attack, but also to defend one's self. So was the reason Eve kept her fangs so sharp because she felt she needed to defend herself that much?
"When your own life was on the line, you asked me, didn't you? What lies at the end of my road of greed? And I answered, didn't I? What I'm looking forward to..." Eve slowly closed her eyes and then slowly opened them. "...Is that someday I'll be satisfied, and I'll be able to reach a world with no worry, and no suffering."
Lawrence took a step back because he was truly frightened.
Aiming for a world without worry and suffering but trying to reach it via constant betrayal—it was like being shown the source of human sin.
This was no act.
It was not a trap.
| "Fine, then. I accept Kieman's proposal. You tell him that for me." She paused for a moment, smiling a snakelike grin. "You tell him."
Eve was a genius.
How could her words be trusted? What was he supposed to report to Kieman?
His gorge rose at the possibilities and doubts, but he swallowed it and slowly straightened himself. She had told him to pass the message along, and he had no choice but to do so.
"...Understood."
He bowed politely, then turned to leave.
For a moment, Eve seemed to Lawrence like the red, many-armed monsters of the deep that occasionally devoured ships and haunted the dreams of sailors.
Eve truly didn't trust anyone. It was hardly surprising then that she was willing to betray anyone for her own gain. But it was also true that without trusting someone, somewhere, trades could not be completed, and thus no profit could be gained.
So who would she trust in the end? And after all was said and done, who would be betrayed?
When Lawrence put his hand to the door, Eve spoke as though to stop him short. "Hey, why not join me?"
She looked at him expressionlessly. She seemed to be at once sincere and deceptive.
"What, to join you even knowing I'd been fooled?"
"Exactly."
"I don't want to believe I've been fooled," Lawrence answered.
Eve smiled. "I suppose not."
Lawrence had no reply to follow that. If he replied, he'd be taken. Humans were all too easily led astray by the mermaid's song.
He quickly stepped out of the room and down the stairs. The whole way, he felt as though Eve were watching him go.
Kieman was to be contacted via a messenger.
The designated location was a busy little street filled with stalls, two blocks away from the spring of gold. The best place to hide a tree was in a forest, after all.
He sent the note via messenger not just because it was difficult to meet with Kieman in person, but for another reason as well.
Lawrence was under strict orders to tell Eve only those things he had been specifically told to tell her. This was probably to prevent her from using Lawrence to deliver misinformation to Kieman.
Lawrence had to admit that the precaution protected him as well. It was impossible to tell which parts of his recent exchange with Eve had been accurate.
What was the truth and where were the lies? He felt his own trust in people wavering.
"The boss says, 'Understood.'" It was a small, hunchbacked man who delivered Lawrence's message and brought back this reply.
"What should I do?"
"The meeting will be in recess soon. You'll get your instructions after that."
"I understand."
"Right, you'll pick up your next message from us at the prearranged location."
No sooner had the messenger said so than he left—probably to pick up other pieces of information from other places.
They were certainly taking every precaution, but Lawrence still didn't know how effective it would be.
The delta was always full of merchants coming and going, so an unfamiliar face wandering around the town was hardly a strange sight—but everything had its limits.
At this particular moment, a merchant wandering idly around or standing beneath the eaves of a stall, looking to and fro as though waiting for someone, would look extremely suspicious. And suspicion bred more suspicion.
If Holo had been with him he would have been at ease, but having become used to her presence, it was frightening not to have her around. Lawrence grinned in spite of himself and made for the tavern where he had been told to receive his next reply.
"I'm sorry, sir. We've no seats left! Will that be all right?"
There were few taverns on the delta, and most of them had been rented out, so things were especially crowded.
As a result, Lawrence was informed of such before he could enter the place.
He could tell just by looking that the place was packed with people. It was obvious that they would run out of wine if they didn't start diluting it with water, and anticipating that, Lawrence ordered some stronger liquor.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Fine, then. I accept Kieman's proposal. You tell him that for me." She paused for a moment, smiling a snakelike grin. "You tell him."
Eve was a genius.
How could her words be trusted? What was he supposed to report to Kieman?
His gorge rose at the possibilities and doubts, but he swallowed it and slowly straightened himself. She had told him to pass the message along, and he had no choice but to do so.
"...Understood."
He bowed politely, then turned to leave.
For a moment, Eve seemed to Lawrence like the red, many-armed monsters of the deep that occasionally devoured ships and haunted the dreams of sailors.
Eve truly didn't trust anyone. It was hardly surprising then that she was willing to betray anyone for her own gain. But it was also true that without trusting someone, somewhere, trades could not be completed, and thus no profit could be gained.
So who would she trust in the end? And after all was said and done, who would be betrayed?
When Lawrence put his hand to the door, Eve spoke as though to stop him short. "Hey, why not join me?"
She looked at him expressionlessly. She seemed to be at once sincere and deceptive.
"What, to join you even knowing I'd been fooled?"
"Exactly."
"I don't want to believe I've been fooled," Lawrence answered.
Eve smiled. "I suppose not."
Lawrence had no reply to follow that. If he replied, he'd be taken. Humans were all too easily led astray by the mermaid's song.
He quickly stepped out of the room and down the stairs. The whole way, he felt as though Eve were watching him go.
Kieman was to be contacted via a messenger.
The designated location was a busy little street filled with stalls, two blocks away from the spring of gold. The best place to hide a tree was in a forest, after all.
He sent the note via messenger not just because it was difficult to meet with Kieman in person, but for another reason as well.
Lawrence was under strict orders to tell Eve only those things he had been specifically told to tell her. This was probably to prevent her from using Lawrence to deliver misinformation to Kieman.
Lawrence had to admit that the precaution protected him as well. It was impossible to tell which parts of his recent exchange with Eve had been accurate.
What was the truth and where were the lies? He felt his own trust in people wavering.
"The boss says, 'Understood.'" It was a small, hunchbacked man who delivered Lawrence's message and brought back this reply.
"What should I do?"
"The meeting will be in recess soon. You'll get your instructions after that."
"I understand."
"Right, you'll pick up your next message from us at the prearranged location."
No sooner had the messenger said so than he left—probably to pick up other pieces of information from other places.
They were certainly taking every precaution, but Lawrence still didn't know how effective it would be.
The delta was always full of merchants coming and going, so an unfamiliar face wandering around the town was hardly a strange sight—but everything had its limits.
At this particular moment, a merchant wandering idly around or standing beneath the eaves of a stall, looking to and fro as though waiting for someone, would look extremely suspicious. And suspicion bred more suspicion.
If Holo had been with him he would have been at ease, but having become used to her presence, it was frightening not to have her around. Lawrence grinned in spite of himself and made for the tavern where he had been told to receive his next reply.
"I'm sorry, sir. We've no seats left! Will that be all right?"
There were few taverns on the delta, and most of them had been rented out, so things were especially crowded.
As a result, Lawrence was informed of such before he could enter the place.
He could tell just by looking that the place was packed with people. It was obvious that they would run out of wine if they didn't start diluting it with water, and anticipating that, Lawrence ordered some stronger liquor.
| In the time it took him to receive his liquor and take three sips of the stuff—it was just right—he was able to understand the outlines of what had transpired.
The northerners accused the southerners of stealing their ship, but the southerners contended that such had been the wish of the fisherman aboard.
The lines of reasoning were parallel and would of course not lead to any sort of resolution.
According to the loudest merchants in the tavern, odds were that the northerners would withdraw in the night and relinquish their claim on the narwhal in exchange for a share of the profits from its sale. Lawrence agreed with the notion.
Had the southern elders wished to destroy the northerners, they had but to sell the narwhal to one of the landlords and, after grasping military power, threaten all of them into capitulation. Since they hadn't done that, it meant they still hoped for a peaceful resolution. If they hoped to continue to hold the reins of the northerners, they would have to give them a reasonably generous offer, which would leave the northerners satisfied. The landlords' resistance came from their desire to protect their own influence, as well as their simple wish to be able to bargain for some of the profits from the expansion of the delta marketplace.
And even that would not be decided at this meeting, but rather in negotiations behind close doors.
But those negotiations would take place unbeknownst to Lawrence, and the only people who had a full grasp of the situation were the lead characters in the farce.
Because he stood between two people—Kieman and Eve—whose power in the town was uncommonly profound, with the narwhal at the center of events, Lawrence had the false sense that he was somehow crucial to all of this. But in truth he was a mere tributary.
When he considered that his only role was to convey information, he could only smile. And Eve had had him under her thumb all along.
Even the power of liquor wasn't enough to let him calmly consider their last exchange. He felt very keenly how simple it truly was to deal in the exchange of goods for money.
If he'd passed his days in this kind of environment, there was no telling what sort of monster he might have become. When it came to regrets and ambitions, he lived in a different world.
He could only smile at how lucky he was that Holo wasn't here to see him now.
"Sir," a voice called out to Lawrence as he was lost in thought, his cup at his lips.
Any merchant who forgot a face or a voice was a failure. Of course, Kieman's messenger had a rather memorable face.
"You're quite swift."
"Certainly. The boss's work needs quick resolve." The messenger's face wrinkled in a proud smile.
The more information one had, the more accurate one could be, but this required reach. That is what traveling merchants dealt in. By contrast, Kieman dealt with goods that took months to transport by ship. At distances like that, there was no way of knowing whether the information one had was reliable, and indeed, it was often impossible to have any information at all. In such situations, one still had to make trading decisions regarding goods of incredible value, and to do so, no small amount of decisiveness was necessary.
To say nothing of the fortitude it took to wait out the months it took said goods to arrive.
That was how Kieman possessed the pluck to come up with a plan to trade a narwhal for control of the delta, thereby shifting the balance of power in the town.
And that was why his messenger smiled so proudly.
"So, here." Lawrence found a piece of paper slipped into his hand, as though it had been there all along.
And if Lawrence himself was nearly fooled, there was no chance that any onlookers would have noticed the message change hands.
"Indeed," Lawrence murmured, and the messenger disappeared just as he had arrived.
What he had been given wasn't even in an envelope.
Did they not think he would read it? Or did they not mind?
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | In the time it took him to receive his liquor and take three sips of the stuff—it was just right—he was able to understand the outlines of what had transpired.
The northerners accused the southerners of stealing their ship, but the southerners contended that such had been the wish of the fisherman aboard.
The lines of reasoning were parallel and would of course not lead to any sort of resolution.
According to the loudest merchants in the tavern, odds were that the northerners would withdraw in the night and relinquish their claim on the narwhal in exchange for a share of the profits from its sale. Lawrence agreed with the notion.
Had the southern elders wished to destroy the northerners, they had but to sell the narwhal to one of the landlords and, after grasping military power, threaten all of them into capitulation. Since they hadn't done that, it meant they still hoped for a peaceful resolution. If they hoped to continue to hold the reins of the northerners, they would have to give them a reasonably generous offer, which would leave the northerners satisfied. The landlords' resistance came from their desire to protect their own influence, as well as their simple wish to be able to bargain for some of the profits from the expansion of the delta marketplace.
And even that would not be decided at this meeting, but rather in negotiations behind close doors.
But those negotiations would take place unbeknownst to Lawrence, and the only people who had a full grasp of the situation were the lead characters in the farce.
Because he stood between two people—Kieman and Eve—whose power in the town was uncommonly profound, with the narwhal at the center of events, Lawrence had the false sense that he was somehow crucial to all of this. But in truth he was a mere tributary.
When he considered that his only role was to convey information, he could only smile. And Eve had had him under her thumb all along.
Even the power of liquor wasn't enough to let him calmly consider their last exchange. He felt very keenly how simple it truly was to deal in the exchange of goods for money.
If he'd passed his days in this kind of environment, there was no telling what sort of monster he might have become. When it came to regrets and ambitions, he lived in a different world.
He could only smile at how lucky he was that Holo wasn't here to see him now.
"Sir," a voice called out to Lawrence as he was lost in thought, his cup at his lips.
Any merchant who forgot a face or a voice was a failure. Of course, Kieman's messenger had a rather memorable face.
"You're quite swift."
"Certainly. The boss's work needs quick resolve." The messenger's face wrinkled in a proud smile.
The more information one had, the more accurate one could be, but this required reach. That is what traveling merchants dealt in. By contrast, Kieman dealt with goods that took months to transport by ship. At distances like that, there was no way of knowing whether the information one had was reliable, and indeed, it was often impossible to have any information at all. In such situations, one still had to make trading decisions regarding goods of incredible value, and to do so, no small amount of decisiveness was necessary.
To say nothing of the fortitude it took to wait out the months it took said goods to arrive.
That was how Kieman possessed the pluck to come up with a plan to trade a narwhal for control of the delta, thereby shifting the balance of power in the town.
And that was why his messenger smiled so proudly.
"So, here." Lawrence found a piece of paper slipped into his hand, as though it had been there all along.
And if Lawrence himself was nearly fooled, there was no chance that any onlookers would have noticed the message change hands.
"Indeed," Lawrence murmured, and the messenger disappeared just as he had arrived.
What he had been given wasn't even in an envelope.
Did they not think he would read it? Or did they not mind?
| There was a huge difference in the amount of information each of them had, so this was the best way for him to protect himself. He needed to resist acting before things were truly within his grasp and to avoid exposing his true thoughts to anyone.
It was a contradiction in terms, of course—being fully aware that he was trying to act naturally. But only those who could keep their minds open and their emotions fully under control could truly call themselves merchants.
Lawrence reminded himself of that, as though he were a young boy venturing into a dark forest, telling himself that demons didn't really exist.
Following the same sequence he had performed not long before, Lawrence again delivered the letter to Eve and received her reply. This time she said nothing, only giving Lawrence a look that seemed to invite his pity.
But if he could act normally, Eve could certainly do likewise, so there was no way of knowing how much of her expression was an act. Yet the tired messiness of her hair and the wrinkles here and there on her face were clear enough, and even more papers littered her desk.
When he left the room, the image of Eve dealing with all of those letters alone at her desk somehow stayed on his mind.
Lawrence had Holo.
He had her both as a source of simple support, but also as a trump card—if the situation turned bad, she could wipe the slate clean.
But Eve was alone, and she faced this conflict without anyone she could call an ally. Her situation was unquestionably dangerous, and if it were discovered she was communicating with Kieman, imagining what sort of revenge the northern landlords would exact was deeply worrisome to Lawrence, even though the risk was not his.
He felt his resolve starting to fray.
"What's the matter?" asked Kieman's messenger, when he came to deliver the reply
"It's nothing," said Lawrence, shaking his head, and the messenger asked him no further.
Lawrence melted into the crowd on his way back to Eve's place and realized he was running. Something was making him feel hurried.
He was carrying mere slips of paper, and he reminded himself that nothing further was required of him, but still his anxiety rose.
He could make no excuses.
The messages he was carrying could easily decide the fates of human lives.
"Please wait here." Was it his fourth visit?
When Lawrence arrived to hand over the letter, the guard only confirmed the password and accepted the letter. He did not lead Lawrence inside.
Any torture would lose its efficacy once it was repeated enough, but Lawrence found his worry suddenly worsening.
The guard, of course, explained nothing to Lawrence, and after handing off the letter to Eve in the room, he returned to still silence.
The two guards exchanged no words and did not so much as look at each other. Time crawled by, and the sounds of the commotion outside only served to emphasize the silence in the inn.
It seemed as though Eve's replies were taking longer and longer for her to write, and Lawrence wondered if she found herself having to consider her answers more carefully.
Was she thinking before putting pen to paper? There was no document that would tell her the correct answer and no one around who knew what it was. And yet she had to find a solution to this problem, on which her whole destiny hinged. It was no small feat. Lawrence was reminded of a time when he'd been pursued by thieves in a dark forest and happened upon a fork in the path.
One of the forks would lead deeper into the forest and eventually to a dead end. There was no time to choose and no one to hear his cries of help, so his only choice was to press on ahead.
The quill in Eve's hand must have felt like it was made of lead.
The door finally opened, and the possibly deaf old man emerged from the room bearing a letter. He looked Lawrence over, then slowly handed it to him.
The letter itself was slightly wrinkled and had drops of sweat here and there on it. Eve's pains were quite obvious.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | There was a huge difference in the amount of information each of them had, so this was the best way for him to protect himself. He needed to resist acting before things were truly within his grasp and to avoid exposing his true thoughts to anyone.
It was a contradiction in terms, of course—being fully aware that he was trying to act naturally. But only those who could keep their minds open and their emotions fully under control could truly call themselves merchants.
Lawrence reminded himself of that, as though he were a young boy venturing into a dark forest, telling himself that demons didn't really exist.
Following the same sequence he had performed not long before, Lawrence again delivered the letter to Eve and received her reply. This time she said nothing, only giving Lawrence a look that seemed to invite his pity.
But if he could act normally, Eve could certainly do likewise, so there was no way of knowing how much of her expression was an act. Yet the tired messiness of her hair and the wrinkles here and there on her face were clear enough, and even more papers littered her desk.
When he left the room, the image of Eve dealing with all of those letters alone at her desk somehow stayed on his mind.
Lawrence had Holo.
He had her both as a source of simple support, but also as a trump card—if the situation turned bad, she could wipe the slate clean.
But Eve was alone, and she faced this conflict without anyone she could call an ally. Her situation was unquestionably dangerous, and if it were discovered she was communicating with Kieman, imagining what sort of revenge the northern landlords would exact was deeply worrisome to Lawrence, even though the risk was not his.
He felt his resolve starting to fray.
"What's the matter?" asked Kieman's messenger, when he came to deliver the reply
"It's nothing," said Lawrence, shaking his head, and the messenger asked him no further.
Lawrence melted into the crowd on his way back to Eve's place and realized he was running. Something was making him feel hurried.
He was carrying mere slips of paper, and he reminded himself that nothing further was required of him, but still his anxiety rose.
He could make no excuses.
The messages he was carrying could easily decide the fates of human lives.
"Please wait here." Was it his fourth visit?
When Lawrence arrived to hand over the letter, the guard only confirmed the password and accepted the letter. He did not lead Lawrence inside.
Any torture would lose its efficacy once it was repeated enough, but Lawrence found his worry suddenly worsening.
The guard, of course, explained nothing to Lawrence, and after handing off the letter to Eve in the room, he returned to still silence.
The two guards exchanged no words and did not so much as look at each other. Time crawled by, and the sounds of the commotion outside only served to emphasize the silence in the inn.
It seemed as though Eve's replies were taking longer and longer for her to write, and Lawrence wondered if she found herself having to consider her answers more carefully.
Was she thinking before putting pen to paper? There was no document that would tell her the correct answer and no one around who knew what it was. And yet she had to find a solution to this problem, on which her whole destiny hinged. It was no small feat. Lawrence was reminded of a time when he'd been pursued by thieves in a dark forest and happened upon a fork in the path.
One of the forks would lead deeper into the forest and eventually to a dead end. There was no time to choose and no one to hear his cries of help, so his only choice was to press on ahead.
The quill in Eve's hand must have felt like it was made of lead.
The door finally opened, and the possibly deaf old man emerged from the room bearing a letter. He looked Lawrence over, then slowly handed it to him.
The letter itself was slightly wrinkled and had drops of sweat here and there on it. Eve's pains were quite obvious.
| "The boss is getting impatient," said the man. "He says the current is growing stronger. And that we must row faster in order to keep up with it."
Eve was surely not the only person that Kieman was dealing with. The current he was talking about surely involved secret dealings with dozens of merchants, with Kieman holding the rudder.
It was a basic principle of commerce that the faster you could deliver information, the better. Perhaps the reason the most recent letters had been unsealed was that they couldn't afford to wait for the wax to set.
Lawrence nodded and ran to Eve.
Yet again, the guard at the door passed only the letter on into the room, and Lawrence was unable to see Eve, which meant he couldn't urge her to hurry.
Although urging her on was no guarantee that she would actually write her response more quickly.
Eve was not stupid; she must have noticed the changes in flow and had to know that regardless of whatever plans she might have, slowness to act would invite only loss.
If the current was fast enough to make Kieman nervous, then the volume of the letters flowing toward Eve must also have been increasing. No matter how great the potential of Kieman's plan to reverse the situation, Eve was not in an easy enough position that she could just sign on. On the contrary, secret deals had to be carefully hidden in between legitimate ones.
Eve was surely just as desperate as everyone else.
Lawrence reminded himself of that over and over, as he waited in the hallway and pretended to be calm
If it was to their own profit, good merchants would wait two or three days until their scales balanced. But waiting could also mean missed opportunities.
When the old man finally returned with the reply, Lawrence gave a perfunctory thanks and immediately left. He no longer knew whose side he was on. Was he hurrying to help Kieman or to buy just a little bit more time for Eve to think? Or was he simply caught up in the moment? He had no idea.
Kieman's messenger was beginning to look grim, with sweat breaking out on his brow. In the short time it took the messenger to deliver the note to Kieman, Lawrence overheard from passing merchants on the street and in the tavern that there had been progress in the meeting.
It seemed that there would be a conclusion more quickly than anticipated.
The moment consensus was reached, the grand reversal Kieman was planning would turn to so much foam.
And Lawrence doubted that such an opportunity would come again.
The messenger began to use stronger language to speed Lawrence on, and over and over Lawrence prodded Eve's guard.
But Eve's replies continued to take longer to come, and from what he could glimpse of her handwriting, it seemed to be turning messy, almost drunken. Amid the stomach-churning tension of the exchanges, Lawrence visited the inn over and over again, again, and again.
As he was handing yet another letter to the door guard, he felt a strange unease and froze.
***
The guard looked at him warily.
Lawrence looked at the guard, dumbstruck, but hastily tried to smile.
His heart was hammering in his chest.
It couldn't be.
The words danced madly around in his head.
The guard took the letter into the room with Eve.
"...It can't be," Lawrence whispered to himself.
Why were Eve's replies taking so long? Kieman was participating in the meeting and probably even busier than she was, and yet his decisions and replies came quickly every time.
It certainly wasn't as simple as a difference in their personalities. Eve was the kind of person who could draw a knife on someone without a single hesitation if she needed to. She wasn't the sort of person who would find herself assailed by indecision.
It was when he began to wonder if Eve was somehow even busier than Kieman that Lawrence felt a pang of unease.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "The boss is getting impatient," said the man. "He says the current is growing stronger. And that we must row faster in order to keep up with it."
Eve was surely not the only person that Kieman was dealing with. The current he was talking about surely involved secret dealings with dozens of merchants, with Kieman holding the rudder.
It was a basic principle of commerce that the faster you could deliver information, the better. Perhaps the reason the most recent letters had been unsealed was that they couldn't afford to wait for the wax to set.
Lawrence nodded and ran to Eve.
Yet again, the guard at the door passed only the letter on into the room, and Lawrence was unable to see Eve, which meant he couldn't urge her to hurry.
Although urging her on was no guarantee that she would actually write her response more quickly.
Eve was not stupid; she must have noticed the changes in flow and had to know that regardless of whatever plans she might have, slowness to act would invite only loss.
If the current was fast enough to make Kieman nervous, then the volume of the letters flowing toward Eve must also have been increasing. No matter how great the potential of Kieman's plan to reverse the situation, Eve was not in an easy enough position that she could just sign on. On the contrary, secret deals had to be carefully hidden in between legitimate ones.
Eve was surely just as desperate as everyone else.
Lawrence reminded himself of that over and over, as he waited in the hallway and pretended to be calm
If it was to their own profit, good merchants would wait two or three days until their scales balanced. But waiting could also mean missed opportunities.
When the old man finally returned with the reply, Lawrence gave a perfunctory thanks and immediately left. He no longer knew whose side he was on. Was he hurrying to help Kieman or to buy just a little bit more time for Eve to think? Or was he simply caught up in the moment? He had no idea.
Kieman's messenger was beginning to look grim, with sweat breaking out on his brow. In the short time it took the messenger to deliver the note to Kieman, Lawrence overheard from passing merchants on the street and in the tavern that there had been progress in the meeting.
It seemed that there would be a conclusion more quickly than anticipated.
The moment consensus was reached, the grand reversal Kieman was planning would turn to so much foam.
And Lawrence doubted that such an opportunity would come again.
The messenger began to use stronger language to speed Lawrence on, and over and over Lawrence prodded Eve's guard.
But Eve's replies continued to take longer to come, and from what he could glimpse of her handwriting, it seemed to be turning messy, almost drunken. Amid the stomach-churning tension of the exchanges, Lawrence visited the inn over and over again, again, and again.
As he was handing yet another letter to the door guard, he felt a strange unease and froze.
***
The guard looked at him warily.
Lawrence looked at the guard, dumbstruck, but hastily tried to smile.
His heart was hammering in his chest.
It couldn't be.
The words danced madly around in his head.
The guard took the letter into the room with Eve.
"...It can't be," Lawrence whispered to himself.
Why were Eve's replies taking so long? Kieman was participating in the meeting and probably even busier than she was, and yet his decisions and replies came quickly every time.
It certainly wasn't as simple as a difference in their personalities. Eve was the kind of person who could draw a knife on someone without a single hesitation if she needed to. She wasn't the sort of person who would find herself assailed by indecision.
It was when he began to wonder if Eve was somehow even busier than Kieman that Lawrence felt a pang of unease.
| But he had overlooked something important.
Each time he delivered a letter, he had been made to wait outside the room for some period of time.
And during that time, what had he seen?
Had anyone else brought a single letter to the room?
After being made to wait a fair amount of time, Lawrence was finally given his reply. He was able to look around with eyes as clear as the skies after a storm. When the old man opened the door, he caught again a glimpse of the room, scattered with letters as usual.
But then he thought about things.
What need was there to scatter them around like that after reading them? And if there was a reason to do that, what was it?
Lawrence tucked Eve's reply into his breast pocket and hurried out of the inn.
This exchange had had inscrutable aspects right from the start. The oddest was Eve's childish insistence that she simply had to monopolize all the profit. And yet the words he had exchanged with her and the general mood of the place made it seem like it was reasonable to say such a ridiculous thing.
It wasn't as though she had always been a merchant and ready to jump into this world of ready betrayal—Lawrence could imagine the hardships she'd weathered in getting to this place. It would hardly be surprising if she chose to walk the evil path of betrayal if she thought it would lead to her world without suffering.
It wouldn't be surprising, but where was the need? Choosing the path that allowed her to hurt others simply because she was also in pain was a mere excuse.
But what if it really was all an act?
Lawrence's mind raced, and the blood rushed from his head. Sometimes waiting led to greater gain, but sometimes quick action brought the largest profit. And this deal most likely fell into the latter category. Once an agreement was reached at the meeting, Kieman's turnabout plan would no longer be viable.
If Eve wasn't working for her own profit, but instead for someone else's, that would explain why her replies were taking so long.
She was trying to buy time.
In more or less any town, there were men like Kieman, who would always attempt to outwit their rivals given half a chance. How could the elders, who had gained all their experience on that very same road, fail to be reminded of their own youthful days?
Were they using Eve as a tool to thwart Kieman's mad plan?
Letting him waste his time with an idle partner, the elders would skillfully avoid the spearpoint of this unavoidably intergenerational conflict.
It was all starting to make sense.
The letters scattered unnaturally all over the floor.
And the existence of so many letters, despite Lawrence never once seeing anyone carrying them.
And Eve never once giving the impression that she would waver in the face of any difficulty.
Lawrence delivered the letter to the messenger. As the man turned to hurry back and finish the delivery, Lawrence grabbed his shoulder and spoke.
"A message for Mr. Kieman."
The messenger frowned, but Lawrence didn't care and continued.
"There is a possibility that the wolf is a decoy."
That much of a hint would be more than enough for a man like Kieman to understand.
It was even possible that Chief Jeeta had set a trap in order to teach the upstart a lesson. After all, given that Kieman had no qualms playing Lawrence as a pawn, it would hardly be surprising if the powers above him would take a similar opportunity to legally crush a troublesome subordinate.
But if it came to that, Lawrence would suffer, too, and whether or not he could borrow Holo's power to escape, his place in the guild would be gone.
The messenger only made a pained face at Lawrence's desperate words and ran off without replying. He had probably been ordered not to accept anything other than letters from Lawrence, in order to prevent Lawrence from making any decisions on his own.
But the situation required immediate action.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But he had overlooked something important.
Each time he delivered a letter, he had been made to wait outside the room for some period of time.
And during that time, what had he seen?
Had anyone else brought a single letter to the room?
After being made to wait a fair amount of time, Lawrence was finally given his reply. He was able to look around with eyes as clear as the skies after a storm. When the old man opened the door, he caught again a glimpse of the room, scattered with letters as usual.
But then he thought about things.
What need was there to scatter them around like that after reading them? And if there was a reason to do that, what was it?
Lawrence tucked Eve's reply into his breast pocket and hurried out of the inn.
This exchange had had inscrutable aspects right from the start. The oddest was Eve's childish insistence that she simply had to monopolize all the profit. And yet the words he had exchanged with her and the general mood of the place made it seem like it was reasonable to say such a ridiculous thing.
It wasn't as though she had always been a merchant and ready to jump into this world of ready betrayal—Lawrence could imagine the hardships she'd weathered in getting to this place. It would hardly be surprising if she chose to walk the evil path of betrayal if she thought it would lead to her world without suffering.
It wouldn't be surprising, but where was the need? Choosing the path that allowed her to hurt others simply because she was also in pain was a mere excuse.
But what if it really was all an act?
Lawrence's mind raced, and the blood rushed from his head. Sometimes waiting led to greater gain, but sometimes quick action brought the largest profit. And this deal most likely fell into the latter category. Once an agreement was reached at the meeting, Kieman's turnabout plan would no longer be viable.
If Eve wasn't working for her own profit, but instead for someone else's, that would explain why her replies were taking so long.
She was trying to buy time.
In more or less any town, there were men like Kieman, who would always attempt to outwit their rivals given half a chance. How could the elders, who had gained all their experience on that very same road, fail to be reminded of their own youthful days?
Were they using Eve as a tool to thwart Kieman's mad plan?
Letting him waste his time with an idle partner, the elders would skillfully avoid the spearpoint of this unavoidably intergenerational conflict.
It was all starting to make sense.
The letters scattered unnaturally all over the floor.
And the existence of so many letters, despite Lawrence never once seeing anyone carrying them.
And Eve never once giving the impression that she would waver in the face of any difficulty.
Lawrence delivered the letter to the messenger. As the man turned to hurry back and finish the delivery, Lawrence grabbed his shoulder and spoke.
"A message for Mr. Kieman."
The messenger frowned, but Lawrence didn't care and continued.
"There is a possibility that the wolf is a decoy."
That much of a hint would be more than enough for a man like Kieman to understand.
It was even possible that Chief Jeeta had set a trap in order to teach the upstart a lesson. After all, given that Kieman had no qualms playing Lawrence as a pawn, it would hardly be surprising if the powers above him would take a similar opportunity to legally crush a troublesome subordinate.
But if it came to that, Lawrence would suffer, too, and whether or not he could borrow Holo's power to escape, his place in the guild would be gone.
The messenger only made a pained face at Lawrence's desperate words and ran off without replying. He had probably been ordered not to accept anything other than letters from Lawrence, in order to prevent Lawrence from making any decisions on his own.
But the situation required immediate action.
| Lawrence waited anxiously in the tavern.
Since Kieman's replies had been so much quicker than Eve's, this was the first time Lawrence had felt impatient at having to wait for one. And really, it didn't seem as though he had to wait so very long—yet he couldn't help thinking, Finally! to himself upon the return of the messenger.
The messenger brought the same thing he had brought before—just a letter.
"Please deliver this."
***
Lawrence was stunned into silence, and for a moment he didn't know what to say. "Did you not tell him?" he said, grabbing the man by his shoulders.
The man looked aside, his mouth closed.
He hadn't told him.
But rather than become angry, Lawrence felt only urgency. "I'm not saying this for no reason. And I know why your orders are so strict. But they're not all-knowing gods, and no human can draw a picture of a town they've never been to. They say seeing is believing, and that's the truth. There's still time. You have to tell them—"
"Enough!" said the small man, who was so perfectly suited to his job. His voice was low and thick.
Lawrence released his shoulders in spite of himself. This wasn't the voice of someone who walked the straight and narrow path.
His pronunciation had a whiff of blood and dirt to it.
It was hardly surprising that Kieman would employ a former criminal.
"We just have to do as we're told, you and me."
For the first time, Lawrence understood the meaning of the word loyalty—a word that had no place in the world of the traveling merchant.
It was a foolish concept, and there were countless stories where it caused the death of many a knight and mercenary. Merchants were among the few people who were supposed to be able to avoid such problems using logic and reasoning.
Unafraid, Lawrence replied, "Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes there are things you have to be there to see. It's the duty of the people on the bottom to fix those mistakes, isn't it?"
The messenger frowned at Lawrence's words and looked down. Surely even this loyal man would regret that loyalty if it caused his master's death.
Lawrence had to convince him. He had to.
The moment he found the nerve to continue, the man looked up and pretended to spit. "You forget yourself, merchant. We're just tools. We don't think. Arms and legs don't have their own heads. Do you get that?"
The man's quiet voice was nonetheless rough, the harsh tone of someone well used to threatening others from the shadows. But that wasn't what stole Lawrence's breath.
It was the man's words that stopped Lawrence dead.
"If you understand, then take this letter. I have orders from the boss. And so do you," said the man, slapping Lawrence's shoulder, then running off as though trying to regain wasted time.
Not a single person nearby betrayed any evidence of having noticed their exchange—the conversation had seemed brief and unimportant, and indeed it was unimportant.
Lawrence was Kieman's tool. That much was certain, and as such, thinking about the situation or coming to conclusions was not his duty.
He knew that, and he knew he had to tolerate this until the right chance came. But as a lonely, independent traveling merchant, he had his pride, so such tolerance was terrible to endure.
Though he knew he was insignificant, he couldn't admit to himself he was a mere cog.
Though small, he had his own name, he had his own thoughts, and he was a merchant who could take his own actions. The more he thought about it, the more agonizing it became to deny himself this way.
He knew he was just a small part of a complicated machine. But the reality of that felt like a physical blow to his head. But then, the moment after the flames of rage welled up within his chest and he felt nearly compelled to cry out from it, he suddenly understood—he understood the reason why Eve insisted on acting so childishly selfish, why despite the situation that presented itself to her, she still wanted to keep all the profit.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence waited anxiously in the tavern.
Since Kieman's replies had been so much quicker than Eve's, this was the first time Lawrence had felt impatient at having to wait for one. And really, it didn't seem as though he had to wait so very long—yet he couldn't help thinking, Finally! to himself upon the return of the messenger.
The messenger brought the same thing he had brought before—just a letter.
"Please deliver this."
***
Lawrence was stunned into silence, and for a moment he didn't know what to say. "Did you not tell him?" he said, grabbing the man by his shoulders.
The man looked aside, his mouth closed.
He hadn't told him.
But rather than become angry, Lawrence felt only urgency. "I'm not saying this for no reason. And I know why your orders are so strict. But they're not all-knowing gods, and no human can draw a picture of a town they've never been to. They say seeing is believing, and that's the truth. There's still time. You have to tell them—"
"Enough!" said the small man, who was so perfectly suited to his job. His voice was low and thick.
Lawrence released his shoulders in spite of himself. This wasn't the voice of someone who walked the straight and narrow path.
His pronunciation had a whiff of blood and dirt to it.
It was hardly surprising that Kieman would employ a former criminal.
"We just have to do as we're told, you and me."
For the first time, Lawrence understood the meaning of the word loyalty—a word that had no place in the world of the traveling merchant.
It was a foolish concept, and there were countless stories where it caused the death of many a knight and mercenary. Merchants were among the few people who were supposed to be able to avoid such problems using logic and reasoning.
Unafraid, Lawrence replied, "Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes there are things you have to be there to see. It's the duty of the people on the bottom to fix those mistakes, isn't it?"
The messenger frowned at Lawrence's words and looked down. Surely even this loyal man would regret that loyalty if it caused his master's death.
Lawrence had to convince him. He had to.
The moment he found the nerve to continue, the man looked up and pretended to spit. "You forget yourself, merchant. We're just tools. We don't think. Arms and legs don't have their own heads. Do you get that?"
The man's quiet voice was nonetheless rough, the harsh tone of someone well used to threatening others from the shadows. But that wasn't what stole Lawrence's breath.
It was the man's words that stopped Lawrence dead.
"If you understand, then take this letter. I have orders from the boss. And so do you," said the man, slapping Lawrence's shoulder, then running off as though trying to regain wasted time.
Not a single person nearby betrayed any evidence of having noticed their exchange—the conversation had seemed brief and unimportant, and indeed it was unimportant.
Lawrence was Kieman's tool. That much was certain, and as such, thinking about the situation or coming to conclusions was not his duty.
He knew that, and he knew he had to tolerate this until the right chance came. But as a lonely, independent traveling merchant, he had his pride, so such tolerance was terrible to endure.
Though he knew he was insignificant, he couldn't admit to himself he was a mere cog.
Though small, he had his own name, he had his own thoughts, and he was a merchant who could take his own actions. The more he thought about it, the more agonizing it became to deny himself this way.
He knew he was just a small part of a complicated machine. But the reality of that felt like a physical blow to his head. But then, the moment after the flames of rage welled up within his chest and he felt nearly compelled to cry out from it, he suddenly understood—he understood the reason why Eve insisted on acting so childishly selfish, why despite the situation that presented itself to her, she still wanted to keep all the profit.
| Lawrence was certain of that.
If this was a trap, he might as well raise his hand and surrender on the spot.
There was no logic to Lawrence's conviction; it was entirely emotional.
When he arrived at Eve's room again, for some reason he was allowed inside and found himself staring her right in the face.
It was possible to know a person's plans from the actions they took and from the expressions they wore.
Eve had an elbow on her desk and a pleasant, innocent smile on her face.
"You seem pleased," said Lawrence.
But the wolves that lived along the Roam River did not smile with their faces.
Lawrence produced the letter from his breast pocket and spoke. "You truly are planning to keep all the profit from the narwhal, aren't you?"
Eve's smile vanished, and the corners of her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It seemed like a sort of frown.
But for a wolf who could laugh the whole world off, it was the perfect smile.
Her family had been sold for money, her fate tossed to the winds, and she had to use everything she had just to swim through a sea of sulfur and acid. And all the while she had no doubt been used in other ways, too.
When she was recognized by others, was it because she was the head of the Bolan family, or was it simply because she was a beautiful woman? There was certainly no one who would say her name with any sort of affection or familiarity.
Perhaps that was the real reason why she no longer used the name "Fleur Bolan." If those around her could see her only as a tool to be used, then she would create a mask to protect her true self.
Even if it was a sentimental notion, Lawrence guessed it wasn't far from the truth.
Eve looked over the paper Lawrence gave her and slowly closed her eyes. She then smiled slightly and spoke.
"You're really not cut out to be a merchant."
"And I doubt you're cut out to be a wolf."
The abbreviated conversation seemed like something between a priest and his God.
Eve turned her gaze to the fireplace and narrowed her eyes before continuing. "I had planned to survive, no matter who I had to use to do so, but it seems I won't be able to ignore reality for much longer." She put her finger to the left corner of her mouth, as though she were about to make a joke. "When the trouble in this city first started, the furs I'd put most of my worth into were confiscated. Arold, who'd fled Lenos with me, was arrested. Under circumstances like these, I haven't the courage to be a wolf any longer."
It was clear that the northerners were having a difficult negotiation. When cornered, people would try to shift the threat to those weaker than them. It seemed all too likely, Lawrence thought to himself.
Eve had probably been thus used all along. But this time they were making a mistake, for her forbearance was reaching its limit.
"My name has always been a convenient tool. Only my grandfather and a few eccentrics have ever called me by it. Of them, probably the only one still alive is Arold."
Lawrence couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to live one's entire life as a tool, valuable only so long as one was useful. It made him feel as though people were both more complicated than he had guessed, yet also simpler.
With but a few signs, a person who had lived a life he could scarcely imagine would be able to know exactly which hill she had reached.
Lawrence slowly spoke. "So you're saying that you wish to be called by your name?"
The hill was a lonely one and surrounded by enemies.
"...When you put it so plainly, it's embarrassing. No, please don't be angry. I'm happy. I'm pleased we're friendly enough now we don't have to fight with knives and hatchets. I'm surprised myself, truly. I had thought it wouldn't be so very difficult to manipulate you. You're an awfully soft touch, after all. And yet..."
There were many details in Eve's rapid banter that Lawrence didn't want to forgive, but to merchants the tongue could bring both riches and calamity.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence was certain of that.
If this was a trap, he might as well raise his hand and surrender on the spot.
There was no logic to Lawrence's conviction; it was entirely emotional.
When he arrived at Eve's room again, for some reason he was allowed inside and found himself staring her right in the face.
It was possible to know a person's plans from the actions they took and from the expressions they wore.
Eve had an elbow on her desk and a pleasant, innocent smile on her face.
"You seem pleased," said Lawrence.
But the wolves that lived along the Roam River did not smile with their faces.
Lawrence produced the letter from his breast pocket and spoke. "You truly are planning to keep all the profit from the narwhal, aren't you?"
Eve's smile vanished, and the corners of her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It seemed like a sort of frown.
But for a wolf who could laugh the whole world off, it was the perfect smile.
Her family had been sold for money, her fate tossed to the winds, and she had to use everything she had just to swim through a sea of sulfur and acid. And all the while she had no doubt been used in other ways, too.
When she was recognized by others, was it because she was the head of the Bolan family, or was it simply because she was a beautiful woman? There was certainly no one who would say her name with any sort of affection or familiarity.
Perhaps that was the real reason why she no longer used the name "Fleur Bolan." If those around her could see her only as a tool to be used, then she would create a mask to protect her true self.
Even if it was a sentimental notion, Lawrence guessed it wasn't far from the truth.
Eve looked over the paper Lawrence gave her and slowly closed her eyes. She then smiled slightly and spoke.
"You're really not cut out to be a merchant."
"And I doubt you're cut out to be a wolf."
The abbreviated conversation seemed like something between a priest and his God.
Eve turned her gaze to the fireplace and narrowed her eyes before continuing. "I had planned to survive, no matter who I had to use to do so, but it seems I won't be able to ignore reality for much longer." She put her finger to the left corner of her mouth, as though she were about to make a joke. "When the trouble in this city first started, the furs I'd put most of my worth into were confiscated. Arold, who'd fled Lenos with me, was arrested. Under circumstances like these, I haven't the courage to be a wolf any longer."
It was clear that the northerners were having a difficult negotiation. When cornered, people would try to shift the threat to those weaker than them. It seemed all too likely, Lawrence thought to himself.
Eve had probably been thus used all along. But this time they were making a mistake, for her forbearance was reaching its limit.
"My name has always been a convenient tool. Only my grandfather and a few eccentrics have ever called me by it. Of them, probably the only one still alive is Arold."
Lawrence couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to live one's entire life as a tool, valuable only so long as one was useful. It made him feel as though people were both more complicated than he had guessed, yet also simpler.
With but a few signs, a person who had lived a life he could scarcely imagine would be able to know exactly which hill she had reached.
Lawrence slowly spoke. "So you're saying that you wish to be called by your name?"
The hill was a lonely one and surrounded by enemies.
"...When you put it so plainly, it's embarrassing. No, please don't be angry. I'm happy. I'm pleased we're friendly enough now we don't have to fight with knives and hatchets. I'm surprised myself, truly. I had thought it wouldn't be so very difficult to manipulate you. You're an awfully soft touch, after all. And yet..."
There were many details in Eve's rapid banter that Lawrence didn't want to forgive, but to merchants the tongue could bring both riches and calamity.
| "But I couldn't stand you not knowing. Of course, I won't mind if you don't believe me."
Lawrence didn't know how to answer. It seemed like no matter how he replied, Eve would wind up being hurt.
"When this is all over, I'm leaving this rotten place. So in the end...," she said, smiling an amazing smile.
Lawrence wanted to keep the memory of how beautiful he found this in his heart forever.
"In the end, you're going to make sure they say your name. Is that it?"
Eve's lips curled. Just like a wolf's. Her fangs bared, she smiled a sad smile. "That's right. In the end, I'm going to betray them magnificently, and I shall make them call my name."
Lawrence could only reply in the soft tones of someone seeing a knight off to a battlefield where he would surely die. "Even if they cry out 'Eve Bolan' in rage?"
"Even so." In that moment, Eve's face was back to the woman he knew. "Now then, let me ask this of Kraft Lawrence, who so kindly calls me by name."
Kings speak to only a few chosen people within their palaces, but not because they have been chosen by God to govern nations with only a few words. It is because they, too, are mere humans and can trust only those close to them.
When she had first met Col, Eve told him that it was a kind of fate to be liked by others. And this was surely what she meant.
"Will you betray them with me?"
Eve had a painful-looking bruise at the corner of her mouth, and in that moment her face was worthy of the wolf.
***
Lawrence waited in the tavern after passing Eve's message to Kieman's messenger. The reply was late in coming.
There were fewer merchants in the tavern, and the place was much less lively than it had been. Looking over those who remained, Lawrence reckoned they were all merchants who had been given similar duties to his own, and when he happened to meet their eyes, they would look away uncomfortably.
It was late afternoon, with sunset not far off, but going by the chatter of the already red-faced and drunken merchants, the meeting's conclusion was nearly solidified, the day's negotiations having come to an end.
Evidently the outcome was the most straightforward, boring one possible—the northern landlords would give up on recapturing the narwhal, and the southerners would compensate them with an appropriate amount of money.
Given that the southerners could use their immense wealth to buy out the northern fishermen, thereby gaining possession of the narwhal, the northerners would then have no choice but to compromise.
If they wanted to get it back, their only options were to take it by force of arms or to purchase it—either of which would be extremely expensive.
If the town was plunged into war, it wouldn't simply be a matter of business; the only ones who stood to gain anything were people in other towns. The people of Kerube would all lose. And they simply didn't have the money to purchase the narwhal outright.
It was easy to feel sympathetic for the northerners, who would be unarmed if the unreasonable happened and fighting actually broke out. But unreasonable situations were like pebbles scattered across the road. If you stumbled and fell on one, hardly anyone would help you back to your feet.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
The messenger finally arrived with the reply as the pungent smells of wine and meat were beginning to seep into Lawrence's body. Lawrence hadn't looked at Eve's last message to Kieman, but he could tell this missive was a significant one.
The reply he'd just been handed was sealed with red wax.
"This is the last one, but you must bring her response."
It would have been easy to assume the small-framed messenger was faint of heart, but in truth he was the kind of man who might well be carrying a poisoned dagger in his breast pocket. Lawrence was well aware that his saying "must" wasn't simply for emphasis.
The seal to the letter was to ensure that Eve need not doubt its contents. Whatever it was, it contained Kieman's final conclusion.
"Understood. I will."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "But I couldn't stand you not knowing. Of course, I won't mind if you don't believe me."
Lawrence didn't know how to answer. It seemed like no matter how he replied, Eve would wind up being hurt.
"When this is all over, I'm leaving this rotten place. So in the end...," she said, smiling an amazing smile.
Lawrence wanted to keep the memory of how beautiful he found this in his heart forever.
"In the end, you're going to make sure they say your name. Is that it?"
Eve's lips curled. Just like a wolf's. Her fangs bared, she smiled a sad smile. "That's right. In the end, I'm going to betray them magnificently, and I shall make them call my name."
Lawrence could only reply in the soft tones of someone seeing a knight off to a battlefield where he would surely die. "Even if they cry out 'Eve Bolan' in rage?"
"Even so." In that moment, Eve's face was back to the woman he knew. "Now then, let me ask this of Kraft Lawrence, who so kindly calls me by name."
Kings speak to only a few chosen people within their palaces, but not because they have been chosen by God to govern nations with only a few words. It is because they, too, are mere humans and can trust only those close to them.
When she had first met Col, Eve told him that it was a kind of fate to be liked by others. And this was surely what she meant.
"Will you betray them with me?"
Eve had a painful-looking bruise at the corner of her mouth, and in that moment her face was worthy of the wolf.
***
Lawrence waited in the tavern after passing Eve's message to Kieman's messenger. The reply was late in coming.
There were fewer merchants in the tavern, and the place was much less lively than it had been. Looking over those who remained, Lawrence reckoned they were all merchants who had been given similar duties to his own, and when he happened to meet their eyes, they would look away uncomfortably.
It was late afternoon, with sunset not far off, but going by the chatter of the already red-faced and drunken merchants, the meeting's conclusion was nearly solidified, the day's negotiations having come to an end.
Evidently the outcome was the most straightforward, boring one possible—the northern landlords would give up on recapturing the narwhal, and the southerners would compensate them with an appropriate amount of money.
Given that the southerners could use their immense wealth to buy out the northern fishermen, thereby gaining possession of the narwhal, the northerners would then have no choice but to compromise.
If they wanted to get it back, their only options were to take it by force of arms or to purchase it—either of which would be extremely expensive.
If the town was plunged into war, it wouldn't simply be a matter of business; the only ones who stood to gain anything were people in other towns. The people of Kerube would all lose. And they simply didn't have the money to purchase the narwhal outright.
It was easy to feel sympathetic for the northerners, who would be unarmed if the unreasonable happened and fighting actually broke out. But unreasonable situations were like pebbles scattered across the road. If you stumbled and fell on one, hardly anyone would help you back to your feet.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
The messenger finally arrived with the reply as the pungent smells of wine and meat were beginning to seep into Lawrence's body. Lawrence hadn't looked at Eve's last message to Kieman, but he could tell this missive was a significant one.
The reply he'd just been handed was sealed with red wax.
"This is the last one, but you must bring her response."
It would have been easy to assume the small-framed messenger was faint of heart, but in truth he was the kind of man who might well be carrying a poisoned dagger in his breast pocket. Lawrence was well aware that his saying "must" wasn't simply for emphasis.
The seal to the letter was to ensure that Eve need not doubt its contents. Whatever it was, it contained Kieman's final conclusion.
"Understood. I will."
| The man gave a satisfied nod at Lawrence's reply. Lawrence started walking, and the man watched him go. With this meeting concluded, his job must have been finished.
Or maybe, Lawrence wondered to himself as he headed out again into the ever-crowded streets, looking up at the sky, the only clear thing he could see.
Maybe they doubted him.
For some reason the idea made Lawrence smile.
"Early tomorrow morning, we'll make a show of formally bringing the narwhal out. On the river we'll exchange the narwhal and the ship it's on for the deed of land. After that, get lost. Signed, Lud Kieman."
Lawrence was sure that last sentence was a joke. Once Eve had finished reading the letter aloud, she didn't hesitate to hand it over. It showed just what she had read, with Kieman's signature at the bottom.
If Eve was to take this to a trading house, Kieman's position would quickly become a bad one. That he had seen fit to give her such a document meant that he had decided it was safe to do so.
There was no telling what that meant.
He couldn't possibly have decided to unconditionally trust Eve, so he had to have some sort of contingency ready if she decided to publicly expose him.
"It's a simple, naive exchange. What do you think?"
"If things go poorly, we can always capsize the boat to obscure the truth, so it doesn't seem like such a very bad idea."
The plan didn't differ much from what Holo had proposed to Lawrence, and Eve raised an eyebrow at it. "I see," she murmured, amused. "So perhaps I should write something like this, eh?"
As she spoke, she playfully wrote with her pen upon a sheet of parchment. It was hardly the sort of paper a mere merchant would scribble upon for fun. It was more suited to having the wisdom of God recorded upon it by a grim-faced monk in a stone monastery somewhere, but Eve's handwriting was as beautiful as any monk's.
"Understood. I, Eve Bolan, shall ride upon the boat for the exchange. Aboard your boat shall be the creature of legend, as well as—"
She looked at Lawrence.
"—Kraft Lawrence."
Lawrence didn't respond to this, but Eve did not seem to care.
She smoothly signed the letter and casually tossed it over to the old man who was still stirring the wax. Once sealed and tied with a strand of horsehair, it was ready.
And now Lawrence would have to be on the boat for the exchange.
"I haven't given you my response."
From behind him, on the other side of the door, Lawrence heard the faint sound of the two guards laughing.
He'd heard that they had been spared their death sentences by Eve. Amazingly, she had gained their trust by telling them her plans and convincing them to cooperate. All to get Lawrence to stand here as he was.
Rough looking though they might be, they were no fools.
"Response? You say the strangest things sometimes. Of what value are words to liar merchants like us?" said Eve, amused.
Lawrence could not hide his wry smile. Of course, facial expressions held no great meaning for merchants. He held his smile, making no other movements.
"Trading is a dangerous business. Only God can see the mind of another, but God has no desires. Only humans stained by their greed, trade, and nothing is more dangerous than trusting the greedy. I've written my reply to Kieman, and you'll take it to him. As far as the outcome goes, we might pray or threaten, but all we can do is wait. I've played my whole hand. So all I can do is give you this letter."
Taking the letter from the old man, she immediately thrust it at Lawrence. How easily she turned it over—it was not an overstatement to say the letter would decide her very fate. It seemed less out of courage than a sheer lack of value for her own life.
If things went poorly, her worth would vanish, and anything so worthless was likewise useless.
Lawrence took the letter and remembered the words of a famous, reckless hero.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The man gave a satisfied nod at Lawrence's reply. Lawrence started walking, and the man watched him go. With this meeting concluded, his job must have been finished.
Or maybe, Lawrence wondered to himself as he headed out again into the ever-crowded streets, looking up at the sky, the only clear thing he could see.
Maybe they doubted him.
For some reason the idea made Lawrence smile.
"Early tomorrow morning, we'll make a show of formally bringing the narwhal out. On the river we'll exchange the narwhal and the ship it's on for the deed of land. After that, get lost. Signed, Lud Kieman."
Lawrence was sure that last sentence was a joke. Once Eve had finished reading the letter aloud, she didn't hesitate to hand it over. It showed just what she had read, with Kieman's signature at the bottom.
If Eve was to take this to a trading house, Kieman's position would quickly become a bad one. That he had seen fit to give her such a document meant that he had decided it was safe to do so.
There was no telling what that meant.
He couldn't possibly have decided to unconditionally trust Eve, so he had to have some sort of contingency ready if she decided to publicly expose him.
"It's a simple, naive exchange. What do you think?"
"If things go poorly, we can always capsize the boat to obscure the truth, so it doesn't seem like such a very bad idea."
The plan didn't differ much from what Holo had proposed to Lawrence, and Eve raised an eyebrow at it. "I see," she murmured, amused. "So perhaps I should write something like this, eh?"
As she spoke, she playfully wrote with her pen upon a sheet of parchment. It was hardly the sort of paper a mere merchant would scribble upon for fun. It was more suited to having the wisdom of God recorded upon it by a grim-faced monk in a stone monastery somewhere, but Eve's handwriting was as beautiful as any monk's.
"Understood. I, Eve Bolan, shall ride upon the boat for the exchange. Aboard your boat shall be the creature of legend, as well as—"
She looked at Lawrence.
"—Kraft Lawrence."
Lawrence didn't respond to this, but Eve did not seem to care.
She smoothly signed the letter and casually tossed it over to the old man who was still stirring the wax. Once sealed and tied with a strand of horsehair, it was ready.
And now Lawrence would have to be on the boat for the exchange.
"I haven't given you my response."
From behind him, on the other side of the door, Lawrence heard the faint sound of the two guards laughing.
He'd heard that they had been spared their death sentences by Eve. Amazingly, she had gained their trust by telling them her plans and convincing them to cooperate. All to get Lawrence to stand here as he was.
Rough looking though they might be, they were no fools.
"Response? You say the strangest things sometimes. Of what value are words to liar merchants like us?" said Eve, amused.
Lawrence could not hide his wry smile. Of course, facial expressions held no great meaning for merchants. He held his smile, making no other movements.
"Trading is a dangerous business. Only God can see the mind of another, but God has no desires. Only humans stained by their greed, trade, and nothing is more dangerous than trusting the greedy. I've written my reply to Kieman, and you'll take it to him. As far as the outcome goes, we might pray or threaten, but all we can do is wait. I've played my whole hand. So all I can do is give you this letter."
Taking the letter from the old man, she immediately thrust it at Lawrence. How easily she turned it over—it was not an overstatement to say the letter would decide her very fate. It seemed less out of courage than a sheer lack of value for her own life.
If things went poorly, her worth would vanish, and anything so worthless was likewise useless.
Lawrence took the letter and remembered the words of a famous, reckless hero.
| She paused, placed the hand with which she'd given Lawrence the letter on her desk, looked down, and took a deep breath. She had to be nervous.
She continued, stressing her words.
"So when next we meet, it will be upon that lonely river amid the morning mists."
As the wolf of the Roam River, Eve did indeed share some qualities with Holo.
Lawrence took in the sight of her hand on the desk. It was as though she wanted to be held, but couldn't let that show—as though she wanted to trust in others, but couldn't bring herself to.
"May I ask one thing?" Lawrence asked, which made Eve's hand twitch slightly.
"What?"
"I have my companions."
If Lawrence betrayed his guild during the exchange on the river, then he and Eve would have to move the narwhal to another boat, and from there head out to the open ocean. But that would leave Holo and Col on land, which complicated things.
That had to be one of the reasons Kieman had chosen this simple plan. Holo and Col functioned as hostages.
Her expression unchanging, Eve removed her hand from the desk. "Yes, and I have Arold."
The name pierced Lawrence's heart.
"I've given you my reply. Go," Eve finished, looking irritated and waving Lawrence off dismissively.
Lawrence got the feeling that if he contradicted her, she would start yelling.
And I have Arold.
Eve's words were heavy with implication. If they could be trusted, Arold was one of the few things she held dearer than money.
Of course, Lawrence was aware of the power of Holo's true form, so there was nothing to fear. She could certainly keep them safe and save Arold, too
The problem was Eve's readiness to invite danger. She knew nothing of Holo's power.
She trusted Arold enough to bring him along with the fur from Lenos and even pay his travel expenses, but now she was prepared to leave him behind.
Lawrence wanted to imagine that this was because she now trusted him even more than Arold, but he knew how foolish such a notion was.
It made far more sense to assume that Eve was simply prepared to abandon everything for her own profit, as though she had sworn to turn everything she touched into gold.
Unfortunately, as in the old legend, the fool who wished to turn everything into gold was unable to eat, and thus starved to death.
That was what Lawrence found so shocking about her words. He asked himself whether he could so easily toss her aside were she to choose a path from which he could see no salvation.
If she could discard Arold, then she could just as easily kill Lawrence on the boat or betray him again later.
And if he could imagine that she'd be laughing afterward, that would have been one thing. But he didn't think she would laugh.
Do I feel sympathy for her? Lawrence asked himself and could not answer.
Was this just empty speculation? The likelihood was very high.
But there was little in the world that didn't amount to speculation. There were even those who doubted the existence of God.
So what should he do?
How could he grasp his own profit in one hand while holding on to Eve's hand with the other? Lawrence agonized over the question as he gave the letter to the messenger in the tavern.
"...Thanks for all your hard work. The boss'll tell you the rest once you're back at the inn," said the messenger, giving Lawrence a pat on the shoulder before leaving. There hadn't even been time to wonder what sort of misunderstanding might have taken place.
The meeting seemed to have ended without much evidence of trouble, and when Lawrence wandered around the spring of gold, he saw many groups of people conversing excitedly. A bonfire had been lit in anticipation of nightfall, and soldiers stood proudly around the meeting table, trying to look as though they were guarding a holy throne.
Suffice it to say it was a feast of money, power, and honor.
And yet the participants were a small-minded, miserable lot. Perhaps there was a reason why God was said not to care for merchants.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | She paused, placed the hand with which she'd given Lawrence the letter on her desk, looked down, and took a deep breath. She had to be nervous.
She continued, stressing her words.
"So when next we meet, it will be upon that lonely river amid the morning mists."
As the wolf of the Roam River, Eve did indeed share some qualities with Holo.
Lawrence took in the sight of her hand on the desk. It was as though she wanted to be held, but couldn't let that show—as though she wanted to trust in others, but couldn't bring herself to.
"May I ask one thing?" Lawrence asked, which made Eve's hand twitch slightly.
"What?"
"I have my companions."
If Lawrence betrayed his guild during the exchange on the river, then he and Eve would have to move the narwhal to another boat, and from there head out to the open ocean. But that would leave Holo and Col on land, which complicated things.
That had to be one of the reasons Kieman had chosen this simple plan. Holo and Col functioned as hostages.
Her expression unchanging, Eve removed her hand from the desk. "Yes, and I have Arold."
The name pierced Lawrence's heart.
"I've given you my reply. Go," Eve finished, looking irritated and waving Lawrence off dismissively.
Lawrence got the feeling that if he contradicted her, she would start yelling.
And I have Arold.
Eve's words were heavy with implication. If they could be trusted, Arold was one of the few things she held dearer than money.
Of course, Lawrence was aware of the power of Holo's true form, so there was nothing to fear. She could certainly keep them safe and save Arold, too
The problem was Eve's readiness to invite danger. She knew nothing of Holo's power.
She trusted Arold enough to bring him along with the fur from Lenos and even pay his travel expenses, but now she was prepared to leave him behind.
Lawrence wanted to imagine that this was because she now trusted him even more than Arold, but he knew how foolish such a notion was.
It made far more sense to assume that Eve was simply prepared to abandon everything for her own profit, as though she had sworn to turn everything she touched into gold.
Unfortunately, as in the old legend, the fool who wished to turn everything into gold was unable to eat, and thus starved to death.
That was what Lawrence found so shocking about her words. He asked himself whether he could so easily toss her aside were she to choose a path from which he could see no salvation.
If she could discard Arold, then she could just as easily kill Lawrence on the boat or betray him again later.
And if he could imagine that she'd be laughing afterward, that would have been one thing. But he didn't think she would laugh.
Do I feel sympathy for her? Lawrence asked himself and could not answer.
Was this just empty speculation? The likelihood was very high.
But there was little in the world that didn't amount to speculation. There were even those who doubted the existence of God.
So what should he do?
How could he grasp his own profit in one hand while holding on to Eve's hand with the other? Lawrence agonized over the question as he gave the letter to the messenger in the tavern.
"...Thanks for all your hard work. The boss'll tell you the rest once you're back at the inn," said the messenger, giving Lawrence a pat on the shoulder before leaving. There hadn't even been time to wonder what sort of misunderstanding might have taken place.
The meeting seemed to have ended without much evidence of trouble, and when Lawrence wandered around the spring of gold, he saw many groups of people conversing excitedly. A bonfire had been lit in anticipation of nightfall, and soldiers stood proudly around the meeting table, trying to look as though they were guarding a holy throne.
Suffice it to say it was a feast of money, power, and honor.
And yet the participants were a small-minded, miserable lot. Perhaps there was a reason why God was said not to care for merchants.
| Lawrence had thought trading and the earning of money to be a more elegant, noble pursuit.
He watched the lamplights of the town flicker to life one by one as he swayed in the ferry from the delta to the south side of the river.
Eve certainly wouldn't back down now, nor would Kieman have proposed a careless plan. What his side would fear most would be losing the narwhal in exchange for a fake deed. That would be an even more disastrous outcome than his plan being revealed.
And if Lawrence pulled out, the situation would not be improved. The plan was like kneaded bread that had risen and been put in the oven. All they could do was wait for it to bake.
Lawrence's options were either to pray or to run. There was nothing else. If persuading either Eve or Kieman was impossible, then what could he do to ensure a good outcome?
The ferry reached the docks, and Lawrence blended into the crowd and came ashore. Most of the people were merchants watching the meeting on the delta, and they chattered freely and happily.
Lawrence found it intensely irritating, but he knew the crowd wasn't the real problem.
And yet he felt a nauseous desire to scream and rail, like he had been chasing a cloud he couldn't possibly grasp.
A drunken merchant stumbled into him. Lawrence clenched his fists and was about to fly at the man when something else caught his eye.
"Hey...don'cha go bumpin' inta me...," slurred the drunken man with suspicious eyes, but he was literally out of Lawrence's sight.
Because past him—
Amid the throng of people disembarking from the steady stream of boats that arrived at the docks was a figure he knew well. She faced him, and from under the scarf that was wrapped around her head, she looked at him with eyes he'd never seen before.
"Hey, are you listenin' ta—"
"Excuse me." His gaze never wavering from the figure, Lawrence pressed a tarnished silver coin into the drunken man's hand, then started walking.
What he didn't understand was why she would be here on the south side of town now that the meeting was over.
And something about the way she was just standing there made her seem cornered.
What had happened? Lawrence wasn't even sure whether to ask, but she settled the question for him.
"Things have gone bad." From beneath the scarf, her husky voice was downright hoarse. "It's too late for me...but I wanted to at least..."
***
Eve staggered as though her last strength had given out. Lawrence held her up but then immediately pulled back. This was no joke.
She was eerily light, and her body was hot.
Beneath her scarf, her breathing was shallow and an oily sweat had broken out on her forehead. In her right hand she held tight to a single piece of parchment.
"What happened?"
Eve was mostly supported by Lawrence now, and she bit her lip and looked at him desperately.
Whatever had happened, it wasn't good.
He looked at her right hand and the parchment it held. It had to be regarding something important.
"We stick out too much here. We should find an alley somewhere—" Lawrence said to Eve and started to pull her along.
Just then, the church bell rang high and loud, and the people coming and going around the docks all stopped, and each of them looked at the church bell tower, before joining their hands and offering prayers.
Ding-dong. The bell continued to toll as Lawrence helped Eve through the crowds. It must have been God's will.
Coming out of the crowd, it didn't take long for them to find an alley to duck into. The precise moment they stopped, the bell's ringing ended, with naught but its echoes lingering on—as though God's protection over them had ended right then.
"Where are you going?"
It wasn't impossible. This was a crowded port.
The meeting had just ended, and people were leaving the delta.
But it couldn't be a coincidence, given that right next to Kieman was that little messenger. If he had eyes sharp enough to deliver his master's messages no matter how wild the crowds, he could certainly spot Eve.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence had thought trading and the earning of money to be a more elegant, noble pursuit.
He watched the lamplights of the town flicker to life one by one as he swayed in the ferry from the delta to the south side of the river.
Eve certainly wouldn't back down now, nor would Kieman have proposed a careless plan. What his side would fear most would be losing the narwhal in exchange for a fake deed. That would be an even more disastrous outcome than his plan being revealed.
And if Lawrence pulled out, the situation would not be improved. The plan was like kneaded bread that had risen and been put in the oven. All they could do was wait for it to bake.
Lawrence's options were either to pray or to run. There was nothing else. If persuading either Eve or Kieman was impossible, then what could he do to ensure a good outcome?
The ferry reached the docks, and Lawrence blended into the crowd and came ashore. Most of the people were merchants watching the meeting on the delta, and they chattered freely and happily.
Lawrence found it intensely irritating, but he knew the crowd wasn't the real problem.
And yet he felt a nauseous desire to scream and rail, like he had been chasing a cloud he couldn't possibly grasp.
A drunken merchant stumbled into him. Lawrence clenched his fists and was about to fly at the man when something else caught his eye.
"Hey...don'cha go bumpin' inta me...," slurred the drunken man with suspicious eyes, but he was literally out of Lawrence's sight.
Because past him—
Amid the throng of people disembarking from the steady stream of boats that arrived at the docks was a figure he knew well. She faced him, and from under the scarf that was wrapped around her head, she looked at him with eyes he'd never seen before.
"Hey, are you listenin' ta—"
"Excuse me." His gaze never wavering from the figure, Lawrence pressed a tarnished silver coin into the drunken man's hand, then started walking.
What he didn't understand was why she would be here on the south side of town now that the meeting was over.
And something about the way she was just standing there made her seem cornered.
What had happened? Lawrence wasn't even sure whether to ask, but she settled the question for him.
"Things have gone bad." From beneath the scarf, her husky voice was downright hoarse. "It's too late for me...but I wanted to at least..."
***
Eve staggered as though her last strength had given out. Lawrence held her up but then immediately pulled back. This was no joke.
She was eerily light, and her body was hot.
Beneath her scarf, her breathing was shallow and an oily sweat had broken out on her forehead. In her right hand she held tight to a single piece of parchment.
"What happened?"
Eve was mostly supported by Lawrence now, and she bit her lip and looked at him desperately.
Whatever had happened, it wasn't good.
He looked at her right hand and the parchment it held. It had to be regarding something important.
"We stick out too much here. We should find an alley somewhere—" Lawrence said to Eve and started to pull her along.
Just then, the church bell rang high and loud, and the people coming and going around the docks all stopped, and each of them looked at the church bell tower, before joining their hands and offering prayers.
Ding-dong. The bell continued to toll as Lawrence helped Eve through the crowds. It must have been God's will.
Coming out of the crowd, it didn't take long for them to find an alley to duck into. The precise moment they stopped, the bell's ringing ended, with naught but its echoes lingering on—as though God's protection over them had ended right then.
"Where are you going?"
It wasn't impossible. This was a crowded port.
The meeting had just ended, and people were leaving the delta.
But it couldn't be a coincidence, given that right next to Kieman was that little messenger. If he had eyes sharp enough to deliver his master's messages no matter how wild the crowds, he could certainly spot Eve.
| It wouldn't be possible to escape with Eve.
"Given the state my friend's in, I was taking her to the inn."
"Is that so?" Kieman smiled, as though they really were just making idle chitchat. But the messenger—along with another man who seemed to be a subordinate—took a quiet step forward. "How truly fortunate for us to encounter you here."
Lawrence moved to protect Eve, and the two approaching men shifted.
Being attacked by bandits was hardly uncommon. And both humans and beasts would change their stances just before attacking.
So what should I do? Lawrence asked himself.
It wasn't in his best interest to let Kieman know he'd allied himself with Eve, and in any case Kieman might not have realized that himself yet. In which case, he could bet on that chance and hand her over.
That was certainly possible, but could he really do it? Now that she was sweating and weak and seemed desperate to tell him something? Could he abandon her, even as she flinched at Kieman's words?"
"No, I—"
"...You do indeed seem to be carrying a letter. May I assume the sender is Ted Reynolds?"
Eve shook her head weakly.
Kieman's tone had changed from that of a merchant to something like a coy nobleman's. But Lawrence's mind was on other matters.
A letter from Reynolds?
"Well, we'll hear all about it. Although we don't have terribly much time." As he spoke, Kieman gave a light wave of his hand, and the two men pulled Eve away from Lawrence with ease.
Lawrence reached out to her without thinking, almost reflexively, but froze when the small messenger pointed a dagger at his side.
"The wolf tried to set us up. Quite thoroughly, I should add." Sometimes a smile revealed anger. When a long-distance merchant like Kieman smiled like that, what would the fate be of those hauled off by his henchmen?
Kieman looked at Eve as she was taken away and spoke as though addressing a worthy adversary. "The possibility had occurred to me, of course, but the method—my goodness."
"You're wrong...I had no intention of selling the narwhal to Reynolds—"
Kidnappers had strange ways of restraining people. Eve was plainly trying to free herself from their grasp, but a passerby would see only a drunkard who needed help to stand. Her mouth was covered, but her eyes flicked to and fro wildly.
Eve was dragged off by the two men, and just before they vanished into the crowds, Kieman spoke to Lawrence. "Mr. Lawrence, if you speak of this to anyone else, you'll regret it."
It was a first-rate joke on Kieman's part, but his next words were terrifyingly cold.
"I'm quite desperate myself, you see."
Then, as though following after Eve, who had melted into the crowds and been washed away, Kieman disappeared into the throng.
Lawrence realized the messenger was no longer holding a knife to his ribs. He had been left alone.
For a while he was unable to move, the afterimage of what he had just witnessed burned into his mind.
From within the horrible writhing organism that was the crowd, a hand had reached out, compelled by a single desperate hope.
And Lawrence had been unable to reach it.
A hundred coins could sink beneath the waves in a single moment.
So in this whirlpool of goods like the narwhal, whose value truly defied imagination, where would one misstep land him? Surely a priest would go pale at the thought of the place.
And Eve had already made a misstep.
After crossing so many dangerous bridges, she had finally lost her footing.
Kieman's words echoed in his ears. "...If you speak of this to anyone else, you'll regret it. I'm quite desperate myself, you see."
Their plan had utterly failed somewhere. Ted Reynolds's name had come up, and Eve said she had no intention of selling him the narwhal.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It wouldn't be possible to escape with Eve.
"Given the state my friend's in, I was taking her to the inn."
"Is that so?" Kieman smiled, as though they really were just making idle chitchat. But the messenger—along with another man who seemed to be a subordinate—took a quiet step forward. "How truly fortunate for us to encounter you here."
Lawrence moved to protect Eve, and the two approaching men shifted.
Being attacked by bandits was hardly uncommon. And both humans and beasts would change their stances just before attacking.
So what should I do? Lawrence asked himself.
It wasn't in his best interest to let Kieman know he'd allied himself with Eve, and in any case Kieman might not have realized that himself yet. In which case, he could bet on that chance and hand her over.
That was certainly possible, but could he really do it? Now that she was sweating and weak and seemed desperate to tell him something? Could he abandon her, even as she flinched at Kieman's words?"
"No, I—"
"...You do indeed seem to be carrying a letter. May I assume the sender is Ted Reynolds?"
Eve shook her head weakly.
Kieman's tone had changed from that of a merchant to something like a coy nobleman's. But Lawrence's mind was on other matters.
A letter from Reynolds?
"Well, we'll hear all about it. Although we don't have terribly much time." As he spoke, Kieman gave a light wave of his hand, and the two men pulled Eve away from Lawrence with ease.
Lawrence reached out to her without thinking, almost reflexively, but froze when the small messenger pointed a dagger at his side.
"The wolf tried to set us up. Quite thoroughly, I should add." Sometimes a smile revealed anger. When a long-distance merchant like Kieman smiled like that, what would the fate be of those hauled off by his henchmen?
Kieman looked at Eve as she was taken away and spoke as though addressing a worthy adversary. "The possibility had occurred to me, of course, but the method—my goodness."
"You're wrong...I had no intention of selling the narwhal to Reynolds—"
Kidnappers had strange ways of restraining people. Eve was plainly trying to free herself from their grasp, but a passerby would see only a drunkard who needed help to stand. Her mouth was covered, but her eyes flicked to and fro wildly.
Eve was dragged off by the two men, and just before they vanished into the crowds, Kieman spoke to Lawrence. "Mr. Lawrence, if you speak of this to anyone else, you'll regret it."
It was a first-rate joke on Kieman's part, but his next words were terrifyingly cold.
"I'm quite desperate myself, you see."
Then, as though following after Eve, who had melted into the crowds and been washed away, Kieman disappeared into the throng.
Lawrence realized the messenger was no longer holding a knife to his ribs. He had been left alone.
For a while he was unable to move, the afterimage of what he had just witnessed burned into his mind.
From within the horrible writhing organism that was the crowd, a hand had reached out, compelled by a single desperate hope.
And Lawrence had been unable to reach it.
A hundred coins could sink beneath the waves in a single moment.
So in this whirlpool of goods like the narwhal, whose value truly defied imagination, where would one misstep land him? Surely a priest would go pale at the thought of the place.
And Eve had already made a misstep.
After crossing so many dangerous bridges, she had finally lost her footing.
Kieman's words echoed in his ears. "...If you speak of this to anyone else, you'll regret it. I'm quite desperate myself, you see."
Their plan had utterly failed somewhere. Ted Reynolds's name had come up, and Eve said she had no intention of selling him the narwhal.
| Lawrence sighed, then felt suddenly nauseated. He hurriedly ducked into the alley into which he had tried to bring Eve before emptying the contents of his stomach.
It wasn't the feeling of powerlessness that he couldn't stand—it was this unbelievable sense of self-loathing.
Lawrence had been relieved.
He had been so relieved that Kieman hadn't taken him away.
He was so sure he could prove his strength to Holo and defeat Kieman, and then after his exchanges with Eve, he had believed there was still a chance to somehow recover the situation.
And now this.
If he'd felt powerless, there would at least have been some chance to recover. Merchants were always chasing what they didn't have, after all.
Lawrence continued to heave long after there was nothing left to come up. Finally he spat.
He'd been able to save Holo and escape many dangerous situations. If that had merely given him a false sense of superiority that would have been one thing, but now that his thin skin was torn away, it revealed his insides to be even more rotten than before.
His vision was blurry, and it wasn't only because of the vomiting.
Eve's actions hadn't made sense.
Reynolds's letter had led to the collapse of their plan, but she'd come to the south side to warn him, regardless of the danger it posed to her.
Which meant Eve hadn't been thinking of him as a mere pawn. Perhaps when she'd asked him to join her in her betrayal, she had been trying to gain something else, something besides the narwhal.
And in spite of all that, he'd been relieved that Eve was the only one taken away.
He was no courageous protagonist. What better proof of that could there possibly be?
"Shit!" Lawrence cursed and slammed his fist into the wall.
If this had been only a question of profit or loss, he could have accepted it or given up on it. But that no longer held true when a person was involved. It was true that the wagon-borne life of a traveling merchant had been very lonely, but having to worry only about one's self was worth something, he understood.
The truth was, even traveling merchants could settle down in a town they visited if they really wanted to. The reason he hadn't—the reason he couldn't—was because he knew he was a coward and too kind for his own good.
The life of a traveling merchant was one of constant meetings and partings. How could they be satisfied with the goods in front of them when the next town might have better goods?
It was true that he had such thoughts, but it was also true that he'd put quite a sum of money into the high-priced item known as Holo.
But that didn't mean that he cared about nothing as long as Holo was safe.
The traveling merchant's curse was a kind of excuse. One couldn't measure the value of human relationships with money. If everything could be decided with money, then he wouldn't have found himself so torn between Eve and Kieman, because the amount of money involved with the narwhal made his lifetime earnings look piddling by comparison.
Thus by thinking of his relationships with others as being more valuable than money, he could keep them at arms' length, like a precious flower of great price.
But just as his cart could hold only so much, the same was true of his heart. And he knew how much that was.
Lawrence straightened, his fist still against the stone wall, and he looked up at the purple sky, wiping his tears away.
Things were so much simpler when Holo was with him.
New things were always getting in the cart, pushing even precious things aside. That was a perfectly healthy state of affairs for those curious figures called merchants, but without the ironclad will of a monk, normal people could hardly handle it.
And yet now that his cart was so full and he constantly had to be careful not to leave anything important behind, his travels were far more enjoyable than when he'd been a single, lonely merchant. He no longer plied the roads alone, with only the rear end of his horse to stare at.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence sighed, then felt suddenly nauseated. He hurriedly ducked into the alley into which he had tried to bring Eve before emptying the contents of his stomach.
It wasn't the feeling of powerlessness that he couldn't stand—it was this unbelievable sense of self-loathing.
Lawrence had been relieved.
He had been so relieved that Kieman hadn't taken him away.
He was so sure he could prove his strength to Holo and defeat Kieman, and then after his exchanges with Eve, he had believed there was still a chance to somehow recover the situation.
And now this.
If he'd felt powerless, there would at least have been some chance to recover. Merchants were always chasing what they didn't have, after all.
Lawrence continued to heave long after there was nothing left to come up. Finally he spat.
He'd been able to save Holo and escape many dangerous situations. If that had merely given him a false sense of superiority that would have been one thing, but now that his thin skin was torn away, it revealed his insides to be even more rotten than before.
His vision was blurry, and it wasn't only because of the vomiting.
Eve's actions hadn't made sense.
Reynolds's letter had led to the collapse of their plan, but she'd come to the south side to warn him, regardless of the danger it posed to her.
Which meant Eve hadn't been thinking of him as a mere pawn. Perhaps when she'd asked him to join her in her betrayal, she had been trying to gain something else, something besides the narwhal.
And in spite of all that, he'd been relieved that Eve was the only one taken away.
He was no courageous protagonist. What better proof of that could there possibly be?
"Shit!" Lawrence cursed and slammed his fist into the wall.
If this had been only a question of profit or loss, he could have accepted it or given up on it. But that no longer held true when a person was involved. It was true that the wagon-borne life of a traveling merchant had been very lonely, but having to worry only about one's self was worth something, he understood.
The truth was, even traveling merchants could settle down in a town they visited if they really wanted to. The reason he hadn't—the reason he couldn't—was because he knew he was a coward and too kind for his own good.
The life of a traveling merchant was one of constant meetings and partings. How could they be satisfied with the goods in front of them when the next town might have better goods?
It was true that he had such thoughts, but it was also true that he'd put quite a sum of money into the high-priced item known as Holo.
But that didn't mean that he cared about nothing as long as Holo was safe.
The traveling merchant's curse was a kind of excuse. One couldn't measure the value of human relationships with money. If everything could be decided with money, then he wouldn't have found himself so torn between Eve and Kieman, because the amount of money involved with the narwhal made his lifetime earnings look piddling by comparison.
Thus by thinking of his relationships with others as being more valuable than money, he could keep them at arms' length, like a precious flower of great price.
But just as his cart could hold only so much, the same was true of his heart. And he knew how much that was.
Lawrence straightened, his fist still against the stone wall, and he looked up at the purple sky, wiping his tears away.
Things were so much simpler when Holo was with him.
New things were always getting in the cart, pushing even precious things aside. That was a perfectly healthy state of affairs for those curious figures called merchants, but without the ironclad will of a monk, normal people could hardly handle it.
And yet now that his cart was so full and he constantly had to be careful not to leave anything important behind, his travels were far more enjoyable than when he'd been a single, lonely merchant. He no longer plied the roads alone, with only the rear end of his horse to stare at.
| A traveling merchant always brought his cargo to the next town, though he might have to crawl through the mud to do it.
He wouldn't leave any cargo behind.
"So, then," Lawrence murmured, forcing his frozen mind into motion.
He had to admit that he'd been lucky to see Eve taken before his very eyes. If they were resorting to such violence, then they had to be genuinely cornered and hadn't been able to come up with a subtler, more complicated plot.
Even being unused to making long-term plans, maneuvering people behind the scenes, and avoiding those dangers he could anticipate, Lawrence was quite good at buying and selling goods right in front of him.
There was a chance he could win.
"There has to be," Lawrence murmured to himself.
Something he could see, something visible only to him as an outside observer watching the flow of goods in the marketplace.
And he wasn't alone.
Lawrence didn't bother wondering when she had arrived or why she was there. He knew perfectly well that she wouldn't have been able to just sit in the inn, and when one didn't know what was happening, the most basic approach was to go someplace with a lot of people and listen very closely—and for that purpose, the port was the best place.
And his traveling companion had ears of unparalleled sensitivity.
With her wolf ears capable of hearing a pin drop half a world away, she stood a short distance from him, leaning against the wall, her arms folded in displeasure.
She had probably seen everything. And even if she hadn't, it would be easy for her to guess what had happened.
Lawrence gave a pained smile and shrugged, as though acting like his usual self would be some sort of charm.
"Should you need wisdom, I'll lend it," said Holo, her small chin the only thing visible beneath her hood.
"That's fine."
"I do wonder just how many times you'll borrow my wisdom to save another female, though."
Lawrence wondered if she was being so straightforward because there wasn't time for their normal roundabout banter. Or perhaps her patience had simply run out.
He smiled naturally and replied, "Yet you're the only one I travel with."
Holo did not answer, but with a little hop pushed herself away from the wall, cracking her neck audibly. It was clear that she was tired of these ticklish conversations as well, though if he were to say so she would probably bite his head clean off.
"I sent Col to follow them."
"What did you find out at the port?"
"I know not. But before you came ashore, I did see a group of people turning angry. I'd set myself up on the third floor of the baker's shop over there. 'Twas so easy to see, it was to laugh."
Which meant that Kieman and Eve weren't the only group who felt pressed into open action. In a current this strong, Kieman's smuggling ship could be affected as well.
Before being taken away, Eve had said she had no intention of selling the narwhal to Reynolds. That suggested that the letter she held had been an approach from him. If there was more to this than a secret agreement between Eve and Kieman, what would happen if a wider perspective were taken?
Reynolds was on the side of the northern landlords, which meant that there was a limited number of possibilities.
Was Reynolds both openly and secretly trying to buy the narwhal?
"I imagine that's probably because the northerners are trying to find a way to buy the narwhal."
"Hmm..."
"But if that were all, Kieman would have panicked, and Eve wouldn't have taken the risk of coming to see me. Something totally outside of their expectations must have happened to cause this."
Holo took Lawrence's hand and began to walk. "'Tis a shabby town, this is. It doesn't seem to have much coin."
"That's right. And Reynolds is supposed to be at the center of this."
Reynolds might be able to use box-packing tricks to make a little money, but it wouldn't get him any great wealth.
"If he doesn't have it, he would have to borrow."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | A traveling merchant always brought his cargo to the next town, though he might have to crawl through the mud to do it.
He wouldn't leave any cargo behind.
"So, then," Lawrence murmured, forcing his frozen mind into motion.
He had to admit that he'd been lucky to see Eve taken before his very eyes. If they were resorting to such violence, then they had to be genuinely cornered and hadn't been able to come up with a subtler, more complicated plot.
Even being unused to making long-term plans, maneuvering people behind the scenes, and avoiding those dangers he could anticipate, Lawrence was quite good at buying and selling goods right in front of him.
There was a chance he could win.
"There has to be," Lawrence murmured to himself.
Something he could see, something visible only to him as an outside observer watching the flow of goods in the marketplace.
And he wasn't alone.
Lawrence didn't bother wondering when she had arrived or why she was there. He knew perfectly well that she wouldn't have been able to just sit in the inn, and when one didn't know what was happening, the most basic approach was to go someplace with a lot of people and listen very closely—and for that purpose, the port was the best place.
And his traveling companion had ears of unparalleled sensitivity.
With her wolf ears capable of hearing a pin drop half a world away, she stood a short distance from him, leaning against the wall, her arms folded in displeasure.
She had probably seen everything. And even if she hadn't, it would be easy for her to guess what had happened.
Lawrence gave a pained smile and shrugged, as though acting like his usual self would be some sort of charm.
"Should you need wisdom, I'll lend it," said Holo, her small chin the only thing visible beneath her hood.
"That's fine."
"I do wonder just how many times you'll borrow my wisdom to save another female, though."
Lawrence wondered if she was being so straightforward because there wasn't time for their normal roundabout banter. Or perhaps her patience had simply run out.
He smiled naturally and replied, "Yet you're the only one I travel with."
Holo did not answer, but with a little hop pushed herself away from the wall, cracking her neck audibly. It was clear that she was tired of these ticklish conversations as well, though if he were to say so she would probably bite his head clean off.
"I sent Col to follow them."
"What did you find out at the port?"
"I know not. But before you came ashore, I did see a group of people turning angry. I'd set myself up on the third floor of the baker's shop over there. 'Twas so easy to see, it was to laugh."
Which meant that Kieman and Eve weren't the only group who felt pressed into open action. In a current this strong, Kieman's smuggling ship could be affected as well.
Before being taken away, Eve had said she had no intention of selling the narwhal to Reynolds. That suggested that the letter she held had been an approach from him. If there was more to this than a secret agreement between Eve and Kieman, what would happen if a wider perspective were taken?
Reynolds was on the side of the northern landlords, which meant that there was a limited number of possibilities.
Was Reynolds both openly and secretly trying to buy the narwhal?
"I imagine that's probably because the northerners are trying to find a way to buy the narwhal."
"Hmm..."
"But if that were all, Kieman would have panicked, and Eve wouldn't have taken the risk of coming to see me. Something totally outside of their expectations must have happened to cause this."
Holo took Lawrence's hand and began to walk. "'Tis a shabby town, this is. It doesn't seem to have much coin."
"That's right. And Reynolds is supposed to be at the center of this."
Reynolds might be able to use box-packing tricks to make a little money, but it wouldn't get him any great wealth.
"If he doesn't have it, he would have to borrow."
| From under her hood, Holo finally showed her eyes. Lawrence could see the faint remnants left over from her previously furrowed brow. If she had seen the entire sequence of events, from when he arrived on shore to his meeting with Eve, to their encounter with Kieman and what happened after, she had probably been frowning the entire time.
Just as Holo did for Col, Lawrence knew that once this was all over, he would have to do something to erase those creases.
"Money and power are close partners. If the narwhal trade is connected to someone wealthy and powerful, the matter becomes much more complicated. Do you see?"
Through the ages it was ever thus.
Holo sneered, as though warning Lawrence not to test her. "...If the food you ordered never arrives, you have but to demand your money returned."
Her mind was as quick as ever.
Lawrence recalled the sight of Eve being dragged away by force. That had happened because things could no longer be settled by record of profit and loss in a ledger.
"If their meal doesn't arrive, it's their practice to demand compensation in money or blood. Which means...if this speculation is correct, there's only one place Kieman would take Eve."
He would fight power with power.
Reynolds had come to Eve asking to buy the narwhal because he'd suspected the secret agreement she had with Kieman. Which meant there was no telling how much power was poised to strike at Kieman.
When the time came, having one or two thugs around Kieman wasn't going to help him.
Lawrence pulled on Holo's hand and started walking in the opposite direction. Holo had probably arranged to meet up with Col somewhere, but if Lawrence was right, he knew exactly where that was.
On they went, through the throngs, and before long they arrived.
The number of guards had increased since they'd been there the previous day.
"The church?" Holo murmured, but then her eyes were immediately drawn to something, and there at the end of her gaze was the surprised face of Col.
"Uh, er, why are you here?" Col asked, having covered himself in a ratty coat to pose as a beggar boy.
Lawrence was now sure his guess was right.
"Kieman's in there, eh? Well, if I'm going to save her I'm going to have to get in and speak to him face-to-face. So how do you think we should attack?" said Lawrence.
Holo showed her fangs and smiled.
"What's your business?"
As they walked up the stone steps and arrived at the entrance of the church, two guards crossed their spears to bar the way.
Lawrence had brought Holo and Col (who had changed his clothes) along with him and smiled. "We have business with Lud Kieman of the Rowen Trade Guild."
Those were God's gift, the magic words, but there was no guarantee that the same God still sat on the throne. Unlike the previous day, one of the dour-faced soldiers opened the door and went inside, while the other remained behind, his spear pointed unhesitatingly at Lawrence.
The plan Holo had proposed was simplicity itself, and the only unusual thing about it was that Col, not Holo, would be at Lawrence's side.
"...Inside," said the soldier, who had gone into the church, once he reemerged.
Lawrence smiled at the soldiers when they briefly pulled their spears aside and slipped through the only slightly opened door. Once Col followed him, the door was closed, and they were again greeted with spears.
***
Forward, they meant.
Lawrence started walking, and motivated by spearpoint, they continued on through the hall that encircled the sanctuary.
The church's interior was so quiet it was eerie, and he felt like he could hear even the candles' flames. The ceiling was high and the carvings on the wall were intricate, each one beautiful. But each one of them was an otherworldly demon designed to convey the fear and terror of the world, which seemed like some sort of omen.
Midway through the hallway, the soldiers ordered them to stop in front of a door.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | From under her hood, Holo finally showed her eyes. Lawrence could see the faint remnants left over from her previously furrowed brow. If she had seen the entire sequence of events, from when he arrived on shore to his meeting with Eve, to their encounter with Kieman and what happened after, she had probably been frowning the entire time.
Just as Holo did for Col, Lawrence knew that once this was all over, he would have to do something to erase those creases.
"Money and power are close partners. If the narwhal trade is connected to someone wealthy and powerful, the matter becomes much more complicated. Do you see?"
Through the ages it was ever thus.
Holo sneered, as though warning Lawrence not to test her. "...If the food you ordered never arrives, you have but to demand your money returned."
Her mind was as quick as ever.
Lawrence recalled the sight of Eve being dragged away by force. That had happened because things could no longer be settled by record of profit and loss in a ledger.
"If their meal doesn't arrive, it's their practice to demand compensation in money or blood. Which means...if this speculation is correct, there's only one place Kieman would take Eve."
He would fight power with power.
Reynolds had come to Eve asking to buy the narwhal because he'd suspected the secret agreement she had with Kieman. Which meant there was no telling how much power was poised to strike at Kieman.
When the time came, having one or two thugs around Kieman wasn't going to help him.
Lawrence pulled on Holo's hand and started walking in the opposite direction. Holo had probably arranged to meet up with Col somewhere, but if Lawrence was right, he knew exactly where that was.
On they went, through the throngs, and before long they arrived.
The number of guards had increased since they'd been there the previous day.
"The church?" Holo murmured, but then her eyes were immediately drawn to something, and there at the end of her gaze was the surprised face of Col.
"Uh, er, why are you here?" Col asked, having covered himself in a ratty coat to pose as a beggar boy.
Lawrence was now sure his guess was right.
"Kieman's in there, eh? Well, if I'm going to save her I'm going to have to get in and speak to him face-to-face. So how do you think we should attack?" said Lawrence.
Holo showed her fangs and smiled.
"What's your business?"
As they walked up the stone steps and arrived at the entrance of the church, two guards crossed their spears to bar the way.
Lawrence had brought Holo and Col (who had changed his clothes) along with him and smiled. "We have business with Lud Kieman of the Rowen Trade Guild."
Those were God's gift, the magic words, but there was no guarantee that the same God still sat on the throne. Unlike the previous day, one of the dour-faced soldiers opened the door and went inside, while the other remained behind, his spear pointed unhesitatingly at Lawrence.
The plan Holo had proposed was simplicity itself, and the only unusual thing about it was that Col, not Holo, would be at Lawrence's side.
"...Inside," said the soldier, who had gone into the church, once he reemerged.
Lawrence smiled at the soldiers when they briefly pulled their spears aside and slipped through the only slightly opened door. Once Col followed him, the door was closed, and they were again greeted with spears.
***
Forward, they meant.
Lawrence started walking, and motivated by spearpoint, they continued on through the hall that encircled the sanctuary.
The church's interior was so quiet it was eerie, and he felt like he could hear even the candles' flames. The ceiling was high and the carvings on the wall were intricate, each one beautiful. But each one of them was an otherworldly demon designed to convey the fear and terror of the world, which seemed like some sort of omen.
Midway through the hallway, the soldiers ordered them to stop in front of a door.
| There appeared the face of Kieman's messenger. Looking Lawrence over, he was clearly not pleased.
"I would speak with Mr. Kieman." Lawrence flashed his finest smile.
He was well aware that this would be dismissed as empty merchants' charm, so his goal was to irritate the man. For Holo's simple plan, this was the most effective approach.
"Do you not get that you were deliberately spared?"
Threats were best employed suddenly, like a snake striking from the brush. Lawrence was prepared, his counterattack ready.
"We merchants love to snatch chestnuts from the fire, after all."
The instant Lawrence answered, the man reddened and reached for Lawrence's collar. But Lawrence knew he was coming and was thus unsurprised.
As the man came at him, Lawrence stepped back and took the opportunity to grab his opponent by the collar, hauling him back out of the room. "And do you not understand that I am here deliberately to negotiate?"
Lawrence's smile was unmoved. The soldier hastily tried to separate them, but just then another voice echoed out.
"Is there a problem?"
At this Lawrence immediately released the man's collar, and the other man did likewise.
Kieman's calm, elegant voice was irritatingly well suited to the majestic atmosphere of the church. And yet his hair was slightly mussed as he stood in the entrance to the room.
"I'd like to speak with my acquaintance."
"That's very direct of you. Do you think I will allow that?"
Kieman's messenger stood next to him, his dark eyes staring at Lawrence.
Next to Lawrence, Col straightened himself and stood tall. Lawrence didn't know whether that was in response to the messenger's posturing or not, but it gave him a bit of courage nonetheless.
"I don't expect it will be easy, no."
"How about this? I haven't the luxury of wasting time on you. Fortunately, this church has many other rooms." He looked at Lawrence with cold eyes. He had the advantage of numbers.
But that he was resorting to threats proved he was out of room to maneuver.
"Of course you do. But I'm surprised you would assume I came here unprepared."
"Oh?"
"No, perhaps I should put it this way—I truly thought you spared me because it would be too much trouble to bring me in."
Kieman's handsome face wrinkled in a frown.
Lawrence continued rapidly. "Miss Eve tried all sorts of things to bring me over to her side. She even helped me ensure my own safety. For example—" He coughed deliberately. "She sold me several parchments with your signature on them."
Kieman's messenger started to move, but Kieman stopped him. His lips curled into an unpleasant half smile. "I notice your companion isn't that girl."
"She's the quicker one, after all. And even a girl can carry a few papers in her breast pocket."
***
If his dealings with Eve were exposed, Kieman would suffer. Regardless of what actions he took, given the volatility of the situation, there was no telling whether they would be effective or not.
He surely didn't want to risk further danger. And what harm could come of letting Lawrence meet with Eve? Little, he would no doubt conclude.
"Understood." At these words, Kieman's messenger looked up at his master's face. "Escort them in."
The faithful messenger chewed his lip in frustration but did as he was told with admirable loyalty. He shot Lawrence a resentful look, but Lawrence knew that it was the masterless stray that was to be feared, not the trained guard dog.
"If you've anything I need, I'll pay you a fair price for it." Kieman was a merchant, after all. Lawrence looked at him over his shoulder and nodded with a smile.
"This way." The messenger led them to a staircase that led underground from the hallway into what might have been a vault, or perhaps a dungeon from the days when this had been at the front lines of the wars with the pagans.
As they descended the dark, damp stairs, they encountered an iron door. The messenger knocked in a strange rhythm, and the door was unlocked from the inside.
"Don't even consider trying to escape."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | There appeared the face of Kieman's messenger. Looking Lawrence over, he was clearly not pleased.
"I would speak with Mr. Kieman." Lawrence flashed his finest smile.
He was well aware that this would be dismissed as empty merchants' charm, so his goal was to irritate the man. For Holo's simple plan, this was the most effective approach.
"Do you not get that you were deliberately spared?"
Threats were best employed suddenly, like a snake striking from the brush. Lawrence was prepared, his counterattack ready.
"We merchants love to snatch chestnuts from the fire, after all."
The instant Lawrence answered, the man reddened and reached for Lawrence's collar. But Lawrence knew he was coming and was thus unsurprised.
As the man came at him, Lawrence stepped back and took the opportunity to grab his opponent by the collar, hauling him back out of the room. "And do you not understand that I am here deliberately to negotiate?"
Lawrence's smile was unmoved. The soldier hastily tried to separate them, but just then another voice echoed out.
"Is there a problem?"
At this Lawrence immediately released the man's collar, and the other man did likewise.
Kieman's calm, elegant voice was irritatingly well suited to the majestic atmosphere of the church. And yet his hair was slightly mussed as he stood in the entrance to the room.
"I'd like to speak with my acquaintance."
"That's very direct of you. Do you think I will allow that?"
Kieman's messenger stood next to him, his dark eyes staring at Lawrence.
Next to Lawrence, Col straightened himself and stood tall. Lawrence didn't know whether that was in response to the messenger's posturing or not, but it gave him a bit of courage nonetheless.
"I don't expect it will be easy, no."
"How about this? I haven't the luxury of wasting time on you. Fortunately, this church has many other rooms." He looked at Lawrence with cold eyes. He had the advantage of numbers.
But that he was resorting to threats proved he was out of room to maneuver.
"Of course you do. But I'm surprised you would assume I came here unprepared."
"Oh?"
"No, perhaps I should put it this way—I truly thought you spared me because it would be too much trouble to bring me in."
Kieman's handsome face wrinkled in a frown.
Lawrence continued rapidly. "Miss Eve tried all sorts of things to bring me over to her side. She even helped me ensure my own safety. For example—" He coughed deliberately. "She sold me several parchments with your signature on them."
Kieman's messenger started to move, but Kieman stopped him. His lips curled into an unpleasant half smile. "I notice your companion isn't that girl."
"She's the quicker one, after all. And even a girl can carry a few papers in her breast pocket."
***
If his dealings with Eve were exposed, Kieman would suffer. Regardless of what actions he took, given the volatility of the situation, there was no telling whether they would be effective or not.
He surely didn't want to risk further danger. And what harm could come of letting Lawrence meet with Eve? Little, he would no doubt conclude.
"Understood." At these words, Kieman's messenger looked up at his master's face. "Escort them in."
The faithful messenger chewed his lip in frustration but did as he was told with admirable loyalty. He shot Lawrence a resentful look, but Lawrence knew that it was the masterless stray that was to be feared, not the trained guard dog.
"If you've anything I need, I'll pay you a fair price for it." Kieman was a merchant, after all. Lawrence looked at him over his shoulder and nodded with a smile.
"This way." The messenger led them to a staircase that led underground from the hallway into what might have been a vault, or perhaps a dungeon from the days when this had been at the front lines of the wars with the pagans.
As they descended the dark, damp stairs, they encountered an iron door. The messenger knocked in a strange rhythm, and the door was unlocked from the inside.
"Don't even consider trying to escape."
| Lawrence pushed the door open himself and entered the room. Col followed him, and by the time the door closed behind them, Lawrence had a sense of the individuals in and the circumstances of the room.
Lit by flickering candlelight and sitting on a tuft of hay was Eve, like some sort of captured princess. She grinned as though having heard some great joke. After a few moments, she seemed to regain her composure. The huge smile had surely been her own way of hiding her embarrassment.
"I've come to talk with you."
"And what...joke would you care to hear?"
Lawrence turned his dagger over to the guard, who checked to make sure neither he nor Col were carrying any weapons. Meanwhile Lawrence looked openly around the room, which indeed seemed to be a cellar of some kind. There were goods stacked here and there, with the open places in the floor covered by blankets or hay. Both food and water had been left, and Eve's hands weren't bound.
He had prepared himself for worse circumstances, so on that count he was genuinely relieved.
Eve was in fine shape. But whips and clubs weren't the only ways of making someone talk.
"The first thing a merchant does in a new town is gather information."
"Indeed. I'm surprised he let you in...Ah, the boy's with you. I see." Eve had gained enough practical wisdom to guess how Lawrence had gotten in. "Flowers won't be enough of a gift to give that girl now that you've made her wait alone for your return."
"...I got a fist in the face the last time."
"Ha-ha. She's a stout one, it's true."
Such conversation would have made for a lovely idle day had it been taking place under sun-dappled eaves. Unfortunately, there was a guard watching them with a sword at his belt. Outside the door was the messenger, and it was even possible that Kieman himself was listening in.
"Well, I'm just relieved you haven't been reduced to tearing your bread into small pieces to eat it."
"Hmph. Kieman doesn't have the nerve to hurt me. Reynolds is dirt-poor, so he must've found some rich northern backer. And around here, there are only a few rich men. And they've no idea how I'm connected to this. About all they can do is yell at me."
There was no doubt her ire was directed at the sword-armed guard.
But given Eve's style, if he were truly beneath her contempt, she wouldn't even bother insulting him, so she was probably being considerate of him for having brought her food and water.
"I've told all this to Kieman, but Reynolds's letter might as well have pulled the ladder out from under me. If he's trying to use my agreement with Kieman to control me...it's because I'm useful."
Her tone of voice hadn't changed, but the mood had. Lawrence could swear he heard Col gulp.
"So it's true that he has a wealthy, powerful backer?"
"Kieman suspects as much, but look at Reynolds's situation—he's the most successful trader on the north side, and that's all he can manage. It's hard to think of a familiar figure who has such money. Of course, it's possible that Reynolds is using someone's knowledge to make a purchase order without actually having the money."
"What's his goal?"
Eve grinned a toothy grin. "To take money from people like us, who are caught up in a secret narwhal deal."
Lawrence found himself smiling; Eve was the one who'd taught him that there were people in the world who could think of anything.
"By saying, 'If you don't want us interfering in your carefully arranged, once-in-a-lifetime gamble, pay up.'"
"The northerners are fighting a losing battle. It's hardly surprising some of them are starting to suggest they grab what profit can be had. There are probably others who are mad enough to try to convince the people around them of that, and if they push it, it'll work. They'll panic and pay. Of course, we're probably the only ones bold enough to just sell off the narwhal itself."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence pushed the door open himself and entered the room. Col followed him, and by the time the door closed behind them, Lawrence had a sense of the individuals in and the circumstances of the room.
Lit by flickering candlelight and sitting on a tuft of hay was Eve, like some sort of captured princess. She grinned as though having heard some great joke. After a few moments, she seemed to regain her composure. The huge smile had surely been her own way of hiding her embarrassment.
"I've come to talk with you."
"And what...joke would you care to hear?"
Lawrence turned his dagger over to the guard, who checked to make sure neither he nor Col were carrying any weapons. Meanwhile Lawrence looked openly around the room, which indeed seemed to be a cellar of some kind. There were goods stacked here and there, with the open places in the floor covered by blankets or hay. Both food and water had been left, and Eve's hands weren't bound.
He had prepared himself for worse circumstances, so on that count he was genuinely relieved.
Eve was in fine shape. But whips and clubs weren't the only ways of making someone talk.
"The first thing a merchant does in a new town is gather information."
"Indeed. I'm surprised he let you in...Ah, the boy's with you. I see." Eve had gained enough practical wisdom to guess how Lawrence had gotten in. "Flowers won't be enough of a gift to give that girl now that you've made her wait alone for your return."
"...I got a fist in the face the last time."
"Ha-ha. She's a stout one, it's true."
Such conversation would have made for a lovely idle day had it been taking place under sun-dappled eaves. Unfortunately, there was a guard watching them with a sword at his belt. Outside the door was the messenger, and it was even possible that Kieman himself was listening in.
"Well, I'm just relieved you haven't been reduced to tearing your bread into small pieces to eat it."
"Hmph. Kieman doesn't have the nerve to hurt me. Reynolds is dirt-poor, so he must've found some rich northern backer. And around here, there are only a few rich men. And they've no idea how I'm connected to this. About all they can do is yell at me."
There was no doubt her ire was directed at the sword-armed guard.
But given Eve's style, if he were truly beneath her contempt, she wouldn't even bother insulting him, so she was probably being considerate of him for having brought her food and water.
"I've told all this to Kieman, but Reynolds's letter might as well have pulled the ladder out from under me. If he's trying to use my agreement with Kieman to control me...it's because I'm useful."
Her tone of voice hadn't changed, but the mood had. Lawrence could swear he heard Col gulp.
"So it's true that he has a wealthy, powerful backer?"
"Kieman suspects as much, but look at Reynolds's situation—he's the most successful trader on the north side, and that's all he can manage. It's hard to think of a familiar figure who has such money. Of course, it's possible that Reynolds is using someone's knowledge to make a purchase order without actually having the money."
"What's his goal?"
Eve grinned a toothy grin. "To take money from people like us, who are caught up in a secret narwhal deal."
Lawrence found himself smiling; Eve was the one who'd taught him that there were people in the world who could think of anything.
"By saying, 'If you don't want us interfering in your carefully arranged, once-in-a-lifetime gamble, pay up.'"
"The northerners are fighting a losing battle. It's hardly surprising some of them are starting to suggest they grab what profit can be had. There are probably others who are mad enough to try to convince the people around them of that, and if they push it, it'll work. They'll panic and pay. Of course, we're probably the only ones bold enough to just sell off the narwhal itself."
| If it was all going to go up in smoke, Kieman might as well pay off Reynolds and try to back out of the purchase, rather than lose everything.
"Of course, given that Kieman's holding me here, that means the odds that Reynolds placed a buy order despite not having any money are low. Kieman fears me being taken in by the northerners more than anything else, so him keeping me here means he's decided Reynolds does have a powerful backer. And as for me...that's why I came to see you, since there were too many clues along those lines."
Eve was former nobility from the kingdom of Winfiel, a half-day's journey across the channel. To make a chart of all the powerful figures she had once been connected to, it would turn the parchment black with ink.
Such figures couldn't act without good cause, but once they had such cause, they could accomplish nearly anything. A secret deal for the narwhal would be an easy target.
Moreover, if they made Eve out as the villain, they could boost their profits and kill two birds with one stone. It would no longer be a question of whether she would survive the tumult—she might not even be recognizable as a human by then.
Taking the narwhal and escaping to the south was probably Eve's greatest wish.
"I didn't think it would come to this," said Eve helplessly, resting her elbow on a rolled-up blanket and leaning back. "If you've figured out this much, you should be able to learn the rest by watching the town for a few days. But whether Reynolds has the money or not or has managed to somehow raise it, this will probably be the last time we meet."
Her sudden talkativeness must have been a reaction to the broken tension. But now she was either tired or simply satisfied with her words, as she covered her eyes and yawned.
She still gave off a somehow unflappable, regal aura. The only reason it didn't seem genuinely divine to Lawrence was because of the short statement she uttered next.
"They're all quite skilled here. I'll be happy if I can die without much pain."
Col cried out a bit, and Eve looked up at him with a little smile.
"D-do you mean they'll destroy the evidence?"
"I've got a mouth, after all."
How many people in the world could shrug so casually as they said such things?
Lawrence began to say something, but Eve smiled like a young maiden and continued. "And in the end, you went along with my childish selfishness. Such fun..."
She turned aside, her eyes fixed on some far-off point. Her profile was truly lovely.
"No matter how terrible the feast, if the last dish is tasty, then it wasn't for naught," she said.
Lawrence felt a pang in his heart, but not out of pity for Eve.
That reasoning was precisely why he had decided to continue traveling with Holo. As long as he could keep laughing with her, that was all that mattered.
But if he could ignore everything else, then he wouldn't be standing in this very situation.
"What can I do to save you?" Lawrence asked. The guard standing next to him was shocked, but not as much as Eve herself.
"Is he serious?" said Eve, looking not at Lawrence but at the guard.
"...I've no idea. Unfortunately, I'm no merchant."
If things went poorly, she would lose her head and he would be the one chopping it off, but there they were, talking like old friends.
"But I can say one thing..."
"You don't have to. He already knows," said Eve, interrupting the guard.
The man looked at Eve for a few moments, then did as he was told and kept silent.
Lawrence did indeed know what he was going to say.
Complete despair brought with it a certain calm. But if a single ray of hope pierced that calm, it could bring with it unbearable suffering.
"If there's a chance for my salvation, it can be only this," said Eve, her expression calm, but not because she had a heart of iron. "That Reynolds has raised the money on his own," she said, closing her eyes. "I'm tired of talking. I haven't slept in two days."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | If it was all going to go up in smoke, Kieman might as well pay off Reynolds and try to back out of the purchase, rather than lose everything.
"Of course, given that Kieman's holding me here, that means the odds that Reynolds placed a buy order despite not having any money are low. Kieman fears me being taken in by the northerners more than anything else, so him keeping me here means he's decided Reynolds does have a powerful backer. And as for me...that's why I came to see you, since there were too many clues along those lines."
Eve was former nobility from the kingdom of Winfiel, a half-day's journey across the channel. To make a chart of all the powerful figures she had once been connected to, it would turn the parchment black with ink.
Such figures couldn't act without good cause, but once they had such cause, they could accomplish nearly anything. A secret deal for the narwhal would be an easy target.
Moreover, if they made Eve out as the villain, they could boost their profits and kill two birds with one stone. It would no longer be a question of whether she would survive the tumult—she might not even be recognizable as a human by then.
Taking the narwhal and escaping to the south was probably Eve's greatest wish.
"I didn't think it would come to this," said Eve helplessly, resting her elbow on a rolled-up blanket and leaning back. "If you've figured out this much, you should be able to learn the rest by watching the town for a few days. But whether Reynolds has the money or not or has managed to somehow raise it, this will probably be the last time we meet."
Her sudden talkativeness must have been a reaction to the broken tension. But now she was either tired or simply satisfied with her words, as she covered her eyes and yawned.
She still gave off a somehow unflappable, regal aura. The only reason it didn't seem genuinely divine to Lawrence was because of the short statement she uttered next.
"They're all quite skilled here. I'll be happy if I can die without much pain."
Col cried out a bit, and Eve looked up at him with a little smile.
"D-do you mean they'll destroy the evidence?"
"I've got a mouth, after all."
How many people in the world could shrug so casually as they said such things?
Lawrence began to say something, but Eve smiled like a young maiden and continued. "And in the end, you went along with my childish selfishness. Such fun..."
She turned aside, her eyes fixed on some far-off point. Her profile was truly lovely.
"No matter how terrible the feast, if the last dish is tasty, then it wasn't for naught," she said.
Lawrence felt a pang in his heart, but not out of pity for Eve.
That reasoning was precisely why he had decided to continue traveling with Holo. As long as he could keep laughing with her, that was all that mattered.
But if he could ignore everything else, then he wouldn't be standing in this very situation.
"What can I do to save you?" Lawrence asked. The guard standing next to him was shocked, but not as much as Eve herself.
"Is he serious?" said Eve, looking not at Lawrence but at the guard.
"...I've no idea. Unfortunately, I'm no merchant."
If things went poorly, she would lose her head and he would be the one chopping it off, but there they were, talking like old friends.
"But I can say one thing..."
"You don't have to. He already knows," said Eve, interrupting the guard.
The man looked at Eve for a few moments, then did as he was told and kept silent.
Lawrence did indeed know what he was going to say.
Complete despair brought with it a certain calm. But if a single ray of hope pierced that calm, it could bring with it unbearable suffering.
"If there's a chance for my salvation, it can be only this," said Eve, her expression calm, but not because she had a heart of iron. "That Reynolds has raised the money on his own," she said, closing her eyes. "I'm tired of talking. I haven't slept in two days."
| And yet she lay down, as though she truly intended to sleep. She didn't seem to want to talk anymore, and Lawrence had heard enough.
Whether the guard was one of Kieman's men or had been newly hired, he seemed to have a strong sense of professionalism, and with a quick nod, he patted Lawrence down.
As Lawrence was receiving his dagger from the man, Col stared hard at Lawrence, either unable or unwilling to understand the exchange they had just had.
Lawrence put his hand on the boy's head and said nothing.
Then, as they left the room, he turned and left Eve with one final statement.
"Sleep well."
Eve raised her hand casually in response, but the gesture was strangely memorable.
When they emerged from underground, Lawrence and Col met with the messenger's glare. He had probably heard their entire conversation and would report everything to Kieman, but Lawrence doubted any of it would be of any use to him.
Both Eve and Lawrence were merchants, and nothing was less trustworthy than the words of merchants.
Merchants did not need words to convey their true intentions.
"Did you have a worthwhile conversation?" Kieman asked upon their return to his room, where he did not look up from the parchment over which he leaned. His cheek had traces of ink on it.
"Oh, indeed. Miss Eve is quite a conversationalist."
Kieman signed the paper with swiftness that was audible, then passed it off to his underling and turned to the next one. The missives surely ranged from information collection to negotiations, to threats and pleas.
The larger the scale of something, the vaster its power. But that was nothing to the havoc that could be wreaked when it changed direction.
"Will the trade I mediated be canceled?"
Kieman was at the utter limits of his ability as he read letters and prepared their replies, but his activity ceased at Lawrence's question. The question seemed to require him to use his head a bit.
"Suppose you lock a baker away in your own shop, but then you go to his to buy bread. Would you consider that a problem of theology?"
"So long as there are money and goods, you don't need another person there to conduct business."
"That's true, but we must discover whether there is actually bread waiting to bought. We can always let the baker return to his bakery, but by that point there's no way to be sure he doesn't hold a grudge. We heard he'd bought poison from another shop, you see, so in a panic we locked him away, and..."
"And you'll know whether the poison was bought to kill mice or mixed in with the bread only when you actually eat it."
Kieman's hand scratched over the parchment again, and he finally looked up at Lawrence. "Or when the mice die."
He had locked up a dangerous individual in order to keep a difficult situation from getting worse. That was the sort of idea that only Kieman, who controlled so many people, could come up with.
He couldn't try to torture the truth out of Eve, because depending on the circumstances, injuring her could mean danger for him. But in complicated situations, even Holo would agree that eliminating the source of the problem was the right choice.
"In any case, the wolf seems to like you, so do please mind your own safety. You seem to have taken certain precautions at least." He seemed to be wryly making reference to the threats Lawrence had made in order to see Eve.
He wondered what sort of face Kieman would make if he learned that Holo did not actually have possession of any inconvenient documents. The notion made him smile. "Thank you for your consideration," he answered.
"Now then, if you'll show our guests out," said Kieman to his messenger, ending the conversation and setting his pen into motion once more.
The man bowed politely and took Lawrence and Col back to the front entrance. All entering guests had to visibly leave. If the numbers didn't match up, it meant without question that something strange was happening.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | And yet she lay down, as though she truly intended to sleep. She didn't seem to want to talk anymore, and Lawrence had heard enough.
Whether the guard was one of Kieman's men or had been newly hired, he seemed to have a strong sense of professionalism, and with a quick nod, he patted Lawrence down.
As Lawrence was receiving his dagger from the man, Col stared hard at Lawrence, either unable or unwilling to understand the exchange they had just had.
Lawrence put his hand on the boy's head and said nothing.
Then, as they left the room, he turned and left Eve with one final statement.
"Sleep well."
Eve raised her hand casually in response, but the gesture was strangely memorable.
When they emerged from underground, Lawrence and Col met with the messenger's glare. He had probably heard their entire conversation and would report everything to Kieman, but Lawrence doubted any of it would be of any use to him.
Both Eve and Lawrence were merchants, and nothing was less trustworthy than the words of merchants.
Merchants did not need words to convey their true intentions.
"Did you have a worthwhile conversation?" Kieman asked upon their return to his room, where he did not look up from the parchment over which he leaned. His cheek had traces of ink on it.
"Oh, indeed. Miss Eve is quite a conversationalist."
Kieman signed the paper with swiftness that was audible, then passed it off to his underling and turned to the next one. The missives surely ranged from information collection to negotiations, to threats and pleas.
The larger the scale of something, the vaster its power. But that was nothing to the havoc that could be wreaked when it changed direction.
"Will the trade I mediated be canceled?"
Kieman was at the utter limits of his ability as he read letters and prepared their replies, but his activity ceased at Lawrence's question. The question seemed to require him to use his head a bit.
"Suppose you lock a baker away in your own shop, but then you go to his to buy bread. Would you consider that a problem of theology?"
"So long as there are money and goods, you don't need another person there to conduct business."
"That's true, but we must discover whether there is actually bread waiting to bought. We can always let the baker return to his bakery, but by that point there's no way to be sure he doesn't hold a grudge. We heard he'd bought poison from another shop, you see, so in a panic we locked him away, and..."
"And you'll know whether the poison was bought to kill mice or mixed in with the bread only when you actually eat it."
Kieman's hand scratched over the parchment again, and he finally looked up at Lawrence. "Or when the mice die."
He had locked up a dangerous individual in order to keep a difficult situation from getting worse. That was the sort of idea that only Kieman, who controlled so many people, could come up with.
He couldn't try to torture the truth out of Eve, because depending on the circumstances, injuring her could mean danger for him. But in complicated situations, even Holo would agree that eliminating the source of the problem was the right choice.
"In any case, the wolf seems to like you, so do please mind your own safety. You seem to have taken certain precautions at least." He seemed to be wryly making reference to the threats Lawrence had made in order to see Eve.
He wondered what sort of face Kieman would make if he learned that Holo did not actually have possession of any inconvenient documents. The notion made him smile. "Thank you for your consideration," he answered.
"Now then, if you'll show our guests out," said Kieman to his messenger, ending the conversation and setting his pen into motion once more.
The man bowed politely and took Lawrence and Col back to the front entrance. All entering guests had to visibly leave. If the numbers didn't match up, it meant without question that something strange was happening.
| The two guards each looked furtively at Lawrence out of the corners of their eyes.
Lawrence made a show of straightening his collar. "Thank you for your fine work."
After putting the church behind them, Lawrence and Col did not return to the inn, instead making for a corner on a street in the smithing district, where blacksmiths made daggers and horseshoes. The shop there produced forty or fifty daggers per week, and even in towns some distance away, it was common to see blades with its name upon them.
Lawrence and Col entered the shop without a word. Lawrence was deep in thought, and Col seemed not to want to speak.
For travelers without money, death was unfortunately a common occurrence—from sickness, hunger, age, or even accidental injury. Whatever the reason, it was not rare for them to embark on the final, eternal journey.
And yet Col's hardened face told of his inability to accept that such a journey awaited Eve.
"Does it anger you?" Lawrence asked, which made Col hesitate, then shake his head—but after a few moments, he nodded.
"It's only because of Holo's and my selfishness that you're in this situation. No one will blame you if you leave." Lawrence explained the danger they were inviting.
But this time Col shook his head decisively. "If closing my eyes would make unfair things disappear, I would do that."
He represented a third point of view, different from either Lawrence's or Holo's.
Lawrence nodded and faced forward, and Col did likewise. And yet the boy still seemed to have trouble confronting reality.
"Miss Eve, she...she can still be saved, can't she?"
Many merchants loved to count their chickens before they hatched, but found it still difficult to make hasty promises. "At the very least, that's what I'm hoping and working for."
Lawrence wouldn't be surprised if his words sounded like a dodge, but they contained many shades of meaning.
Eve had said there was only one way for her to survive, and that was for Reynolds to gather sufficient funds to buy the narwhal outright, either for himself or for the northerners.
In that situation alone the deal would collapse into a simple exchange of goods, and like a burglar frightened into sudden silence by a sound, Kieman would gradually begin the work of cleaning up afterward.
But that path was not lit by as much as a single lamp, and the way through was cloaked in darkness.
The state of Reynolds's shop was the proof of that, and one didn't have to be from Kerube to guess at the condition of his coin purse.
The odds were one in a thousand. Maybe one in ten thousand.
"So his scheme with the copper coin boxes...it won't be enough?
Col had been the one to discover Reynolds's manipulation of the crates carrying the copper coins shipped down the Roam River. The number he received was different from the number he shipped—he sent out more than he received.
"About all we can imagine there is that he's avoiding paying taxes on the number of boxes he imports. It won't be enough to buy the narwhal."
***
Col looked down, as though stewing in a sea of thought.
Lawrence knew that fixating on one thing to the exclusion of all others was a bad habit of his, so when he saw such a perfect example of that very same trait right in front of him, it made it harder to correct.
"It's important to think hard about these things, but..."
"Huh?"
"First we have to protect ourselves. That's the predicament we're in now."
Lawrence nudged Col forward, urging him on, and once Col understood, he started running.
The boy was too honest. If Lawrence had explained everything to him, his trepidation at coming to this place would have been all too obvious.
For a craft district, the streets in the blacksmiths' quarter were quite wide, and being frequently used to transport heavy materials, their paving was of good quality. In the twisting, crowded streets elsewhere, locals could navigate much more quickly. But on fine pavement and easily traveled streets, it was travelers themselves who were swifter.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The two guards each looked furtively at Lawrence out of the corners of their eyes.
Lawrence made a show of straightening his collar. "Thank you for your fine work."
After putting the church behind them, Lawrence and Col did not return to the inn, instead making for a corner on a street in the smithing district, where blacksmiths made daggers and horseshoes. The shop there produced forty or fifty daggers per week, and even in towns some distance away, it was common to see blades with its name upon them.
Lawrence and Col entered the shop without a word. Lawrence was deep in thought, and Col seemed not to want to speak.
For travelers without money, death was unfortunately a common occurrence—from sickness, hunger, age, or even accidental injury. Whatever the reason, it was not rare for them to embark on the final, eternal journey.
And yet Col's hardened face told of his inability to accept that such a journey awaited Eve.
"Does it anger you?" Lawrence asked, which made Col hesitate, then shake his head—but after a few moments, he nodded.
"It's only because of Holo's and my selfishness that you're in this situation. No one will blame you if you leave." Lawrence explained the danger they were inviting.
But this time Col shook his head decisively. "If closing my eyes would make unfair things disappear, I would do that."
He represented a third point of view, different from either Lawrence's or Holo's.
Lawrence nodded and faced forward, and Col did likewise. And yet the boy still seemed to have trouble confronting reality.
"Miss Eve, she...she can still be saved, can't she?"
Many merchants loved to count their chickens before they hatched, but found it still difficult to make hasty promises. "At the very least, that's what I'm hoping and working for."
Lawrence wouldn't be surprised if his words sounded like a dodge, but they contained many shades of meaning.
Eve had said there was only one way for her to survive, and that was for Reynolds to gather sufficient funds to buy the narwhal outright, either for himself or for the northerners.
In that situation alone the deal would collapse into a simple exchange of goods, and like a burglar frightened into sudden silence by a sound, Kieman would gradually begin the work of cleaning up afterward.
But that path was not lit by as much as a single lamp, and the way through was cloaked in darkness.
The state of Reynolds's shop was the proof of that, and one didn't have to be from Kerube to guess at the condition of his coin purse.
The odds were one in a thousand. Maybe one in ten thousand.
"So his scheme with the copper coin boxes...it won't be enough?
Col had been the one to discover Reynolds's manipulation of the crates carrying the copper coins shipped down the Roam River. The number he received was different from the number he shipped—he sent out more than he received.
"About all we can imagine there is that he's avoiding paying taxes on the number of boxes he imports. It won't be enough to buy the narwhal."
***
Col looked down, as though stewing in a sea of thought.
Lawrence knew that fixating on one thing to the exclusion of all others was a bad habit of his, so when he saw such a perfect example of that very same trait right in front of him, it made it harder to correct.
"It's important to think hard about these things, but..."
"Huh?"
"First we have to protect ourselves. That's the predicament we're in now."
Lawrence nudged Col forward, urging him on, and once Col understood, he started running.
The boy was too honest. If Lawrence had explained everything to him, his trepidation at coming to this place would have been all too obvious.
For a craft district, the streets in the blacksmiths' quarter were quite wide, and being frequently used to transport heavy materials, their paving was of good quality. In the twisting, crowded streets elsewhere, locals could navigate much more quickly. But on fine pavement and easily traveled streets, it was travelers themselves who were swifter.
| "Wait! You bastards!"
It was common enough to see a merchant chasing after a thief—but quite rare to see a thug chasing after a merchant.
The smiths making knives, spoons, files and nails, spoons, and bowls looked up from their polishing and hammering in curiosity.
A kidnapping could hardly take place while others watched.
By the time Lawrence and Col dashed out of the smithing district, exhaling white puffs of breath, their pursuers were suddenly nowhere to be seen.
But that didn't mean they had given up. They were surely using their knowledge of the town to circle around and head Lawrence off.
Col looked up at Lawrence like a loyal sheepdog waiting for a command, but of course, he also anticipated what was coming.
"Soon, I'd think."
And just as Lawrence spoke, a short, thin beggar appeared from an alley ahead of them.
"Ah—"
No sooner did Col utter the sound than he and Lawrence ran after the beggar. Saying nothing, the beggar disappeared back into the alley.
Unlike the streets they had just been on, these were complicated and twisty and fairly difficult to navigate for those unfamiliar with them. The beggar made good, easy speed, and Lawrence and Col were pressed just keeping up.
They seemed to follow forever, and just as Lawrence began to break a sweat, the beggar stopped and looked back at them.
"'Tis far enough, aye?" Holo's breath was short, but under the ragged coat she'd borrowed from Col, her face was happy. No doubt such chases got her wolf's blood rushing. "So I take it you were able to see the vixen?"
"She seemed better than I'd guessed."
"My, my. Still—" said Holo, peering at Col, who had taken back his coat and promptly covered his head with it. "When you say she was well, was she like this one here?"
A tangled knot that was impossible to untie could cause problems, and there was no telling what its threads might be connected to. It made sense to simply dispose of it.
Holo pinched Col's right cheek, and he smiled.
"She was tenacious yet somehow upstanding, I'll bet."
"...You don't seem to hate Eve as much as you claim to."
At these words, Holo grinned meaningfully, and she gestured to the north with her chin. "'Twas a riot at the port, as though a bonfire had been kindled."
"Did someone make a move?" It was Col who asked the question, his cheek still midpinch.
Lawrence felt bad for thinking it, but having someone around who was more nervous than he was made him feel calmer. The situation was fluid, and no matter how wary they were, if they simply waited around, their chance to bring about the best outcome would vanish.
But if they saw their chance, they would have to take it. Lawrence nodded, prompting Holo to continue.
"Reynolds seemed so humble the other night, but he's quite the actor. Now he's full of boasting. The oppressed can be strong—they wish to pay back in full those who've made them suffer, after all."
"He was negotiating? With the southerners?"
"He kept railing that he was a customer, demanded to be shown what he was buying. I've no particular hatred for the people of this side, but I had to laugh at their nervousness."
Lawrence and Col shared a look. If Reynolds wanted to see the goods, it was clear where he would go next.
"Ah, I suppose your ears cannot hear them. They're three blocks away from us."
"But does that mean he's actually raised the money to buy it?" asked Lawrence.
Holo tilted her head, and despite what she was doing to him, Col's gaze was far away. Just as his face wrinkled in thought, something occurred to Lawrence.
"D-does he have the money?" Col was the first to speak up.
In the dark alley, Holo's ears swiveled as she answered. "'Twas a war of words. He demanded to see the goods, while they demanded to see the money. They were out of their seats in anger, and this Reynolds fellow matched them every time."
"Mr. Lawrence—"
"Yes, but...why? What could this mean?"
|
Subsets and Splits