Spice and Wolf - Volume 10 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Col sat ahead and Lawrence was the farthest back. Between them was Holo, and even so the horse atop whose back they all sat had strength to spare.

The long-haired steeds that pulled sleighs across the plains of Winfiel were every bit as big as the rumors claimed.

“Hmph…awfully arrogant for a mere horse.”

Such were the words that Holo let slip upon seeing the mounts that Piasky had made ready for them at their meeting place.

Of course, Holo’s true form was far larger than even this horse.

Holo’s grumbling was likely rooted in her frustration at her own ignorance—the limitations of her own knowledge compared with the vastness of the world.

On the continent, horses like this one were hardly a common sight.

“Are you all prepared?” Piasky asked, holding the reins while atop a more common horse.

Lawrence replied that they were. The only reason he, too, did not have reins in his hand was because the packhorse’s driver held them.

A horse of such size would be wasted if it were merely being ridden. Even a mule that looked like it would run short of breath carrying a child could haul the baggage of four people, as long as it was properly loaded.

Lawrence looked back and saw a cart piled high with goods. Among them was food and wine for the abbey’s merchant branch. Evidently once the roads were covered in snow, wagons were traded for sleighs.

Piasky’s role was to mediate between the abbey and the continental trade companies, facilitating the flow of information as well as goods such as these.

“Now, then, let us pray to God for safe travels.”

As befitted a trip to an abbey, they gave such prayers as the midday bell rang and then set off.

The weather was poor and temperatures very low.

Worse, the snow hadn’t quite covered the town and instead mixed with the road’s dirt, becoming mud that dirtied the cuffs of all who walked it.

But they left the town and continued on across the harvested plains, which were nearly entirely white.

It was scenery worthy of the “nation of plains,” for so it was called, and no matter the direction one looked, the white expanse stretched on and on, and they followed a path of dirt churned up by the feet of humans and horses that sliced through it.

Everyone was wearing many layers of clothing. Lawrence and his companions even wore thick leather overcoats they had borrowed from the inn, as well as gloves.

But sitting still atop a horse as they traveled over such land, the cold inevitably found its way past their coats. Eventually Holo enveloped Col within her own coat, and Lawrence drew Holo into his.

Silence reigned over their travel. The only sounds were the tik, tik of snowflakes hitting coats and the long, reluctant breaths of cold air they drew into their lungs, that sound magnified by the silence.

People of the north country spoke little, and what they did speak was uttered through lips barely parted, it was said—and Lawrence could easily understand why.

And of all the various restrictions that monks imposed on themselves during their pilgrimages, the rule of silence was the easiest to comprehend.

Thanks to the snow, darkness fell early, and though their travels had not been lengthy, Lawrence and his companions were exhausted by the time they reached the first inn.

A famous monk had once said that idle chatter was a pleasure, and the truth of those words was entirely clear.

And yet Lawrence, Col, and Holo were laypeople, not clergy.

The least clergy-like of them, Holo, seemed most affected by the monotonous silence, and upon reaching the room, she fell straight onto the bed, not even bothering to brush the snow from her hood.

For his part, Lawrence was in no mood to chastise her. He was sure his face looked no better than Col’s, who sat exhausted on a chair.

It was the face of one whose energy reserves were gone, but if told to stand and walk, he would struggle to his feet and continue trudging forward—the face of one whose spirit had given out ahead of his body.

In the northlands, there were many tales of the wandering dead, no doubt from people catching sight of travelers in such a state.

“Col.”

After Lawrence said the boy’s name, Col looked up at him with a corpse-like expression.

“If you smile, you’ll feel better.”

Col had traveled alone and was surely aware of that particular trick. He nodded and forced a smile.

“Now, then, let us go get dinner. I expect Piasky has arranged to have it served.”

“All right,” replied Col, standing.

As the boy obediently removed his snow-covered coat, Lawrence took Holo’s cloak as she continued to lie facedown and motionless on the bed.

“I’m sure you know this, but you won’t be able to sleep like that. You’ll feel better if you go someplace warm and drink some wine.”

Drowsiness and exhaustion were similar but different.

Holo’s drooping ears twitched, as though to say, “I know, I know.”

But despite knowing, she made no move to rise, like a person unwilling to leave their warm bed in the morning.

With no other option, Lawrence picked her up and saw that the expression on her face was like a girl cursed to sleep until some hero came to awaken her with a kiss.

Lawrence, of course, was no hero.

A different sort of magic would be required to break the curse on Holo.

“I hear the liquor here is such that a simple spark will set it aflame,” he whispered into her drooping ears, which pricked up into sharp triangles.

It was as though she were asking, “Truly?”

“Weak liquor soon freezes and becomes undrinkable, so they make it strong enough to store in ice and remain unfrozen. And though it’s colder than ice, drinking the burning stuff will warm you right up.”

A bit of sparkle returned to Holo’s eyes.

She gulped, the sound of her swallowing signaling the breaking of the curse.

Holo stood unsteadily, a bit of strength returning to her tail, which had drooped like the tail of a stray dog that had not eaten in three days.

“Still, we may only have pickled cabbage to go with it,” Lawrence made sure to say, hoping to head off her anger at discovering as much after the fact.

Holo seemed briefly unsteadied by this qualification, but the allure of the liquor was evidently enough for her to regain her vigor.

“’Tis better than nothing.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Their exchange as they left the room made Lawrence think of something. The strong liquor they had drunk at a town they had stopped at earlier in their journey had reminded Holo of her homeland’s wine.

If strong liquor reminded Holo of home, that would certainly be a singular flavor. What better nourishment could there be when one was so exhausted?

Evidently it would take roughly two more days to reach Brondel Abbey.

Lawrence counted the coins in his coin purse, careful not to let Holo notice him doing this.

A way station’s food is expensive, poor, and foul-smelling.

Even a piece of scripture fit for a child to memorize was not as easily remembered as that truism.

And as though trying to live up to those words, the smell of dishes on the table next to them wafted over, rank and garlic-smelling.

The smell of garlic was synonymous with poverty. Despite Lawrence being sure he and his companions tended to eat thriftily, it was times like this when the ill effects of extravagance were laid bare.

The only one whose stomach growled at the prospect of the food at the next table over was Col, who until recently had traveled by gnawing on meager turnips.

It had been a long time since Lawrence had encountered this scent, but he still could not muster much appetite at its prospect—to say nothing of the keen-nosed Holo.

But Lawrence and his companions were lucky, not because they had plenty of money and not because the way station’s kitchen had run out of garlic.

They were lucky because Piasky had anticipated this happening and taken matters into his own hands.

“Since I travel quite a lot in the northlands, I often wind up having to stop over because of the snow. Helping out with the cooking has gotten me not half bad at it,” he said, then placed a simple mutton stew in the center of the table—“simple” being a salt broth with onions, ginger, and turnips, along with some mutton jerky and leg bone all boiled together.

But of course, there was one special, crucial ingredient hidden among all that.

Piasky lowered his voice before revealing the secret ingredient, which turned out to be the very same thing that the people at the next table were so reluctantly eating: garlic.

Evidently a small amount of garlic was very important for this stew, with its thin skim of yellow oil covering the surface of the broth.

The stew was served in a well-used, old wooden bowl, garnished with a piece of oat bread that by itself looked like it would have been tough to chew—but it was meant to be soaked in the warm stew broth before eating. This allowed even the famously difficult-to-chew oat bread to be enjoyed.

Lawrence was deeply grateful to Piasky, not only because the food was delicious, but also because it distracted Holo from the liquor they had been discussing.

“In places where there are no rivers or ponds, the water you carry with you tends to turn rancid, but if you mix it with ingredients like these and boil the lot of it, even bad water is all right.”

Holo gnawed away on the mutton, wooden spoon in hand. She was already on her third bowl. Even the usually restrained Col went in for seconds—proof of how tasty the stew really was.

“It would be amazing if you could make stew this delicious from even rancid water…But this is only practical when you’re traveling in numbers, I would think. If you made this all the time while traveling alone, it would surely be a waste of money.”

“Right you are. When I was younger and traveling hither and yon with caravans, I often had cooking duties foisted upon me.”

Traveling with a large group of merchants was good for business and made for a safer journey. But Piasky’s affect had the keen edge of a man well accustomed to traveling alone. The impression Lawrence had immediately gotten from him was that of a solitary merchant scaling a steep cliff.

This was evidently something people often told Piasky. He explained, “Of course, that’s all in the past. A group of merchants is after all only a group. It’s not a family.”

“Whenever a crisis comes, they’ll only offer you a helping hand if they’ve decided there’s some profit in it for them.”

Piasky’s lips twisted. “Quite right,” he said with a helpless shrug.

Before he had begun sitting alone in the driver’s seat of his cart, Lawrence had occasionally traveled with other merchants, and when business was good, he had stayed with the same group for a while.

As to why he’d stopped doing it—it was probably overstatement to suggest that relationships formed solely for profit were doomed to distort into resentment, but his reason was likely the same as Piasky’s.

When his group had been attacked by wolves, they all fled, each praying to God that it would be one of the others who was caught.

And when one of them finally drew the losing lot, Lawrence wondered just how much God’s heart was stirred by their desperate cries for help.

“Also, I was well aware that even a group of traveling merchants have no hope against the merchants of a town. So in the end I decided to become the hand of one of those town merchants. I’m less free than I was, but in every town where we have influence, I’m greeted with smiles. It’s worthy compensation.”

Holo had started drinking her liquor, but surely not because she was full.

Piasky’s words had undoubtedly given her much to consider. Anyone who lived a life of travel, even Col, could understand what he was talking about.

“On that count, if you’re with the Ruvik Alliance, the compensation would be great indeed.”

“Exactly so. And the scale of my business has expanded as well.”

“I see. Though it doesn’t seem to have dulled your cooking skills a bit…ah, apologies. Your life as a traveler doesn’t match your great skill at cooking.”

“Ha-ha-ha. I hear that a lot. The truth is I still prepare meals for groups of people while traveling. As I’m doing right now, in fact.”

It was said that sightseers flocked to Brondel Abbey. But Piasky’s manner didn’t suggest that his side business of guiding visitors to the abbey was exactly flourishing. He had introduced himself as a messenger and courier in the employ of the Ruvik Alliance.

Which meant the remaining possibilities were few.

“Heh-heh. Every merchant worth his salt ends up asking me that question, Mr. Lawrence. And I always answer the same way.” He smiled cheerfully and then swept his gaze across Holo and Col before continuing theatrically, “My journey’s only just begun! I still have plenty of time to think.”

A merchant without curiosity was like a clergyman without faith, so such a statement, despite its triviality, was guaranteed to fan Lawrence’s interest.

At the very least, thinking it over would be a good way to kill time while on the back of a horse in the freezing silence.

“Incidentally, it’s not as though I’m always going to Brondel Abbey.”

No doubt these mealtime guessing games were part of Piasky’s appeal on the long, boring journeys. His expression made it look as though he was proudly showing off a piece of merchandise, and the audience was certainly taking the bait.

Holo pretended to continue eating as though having no interest in such frivolity, but in actuality the meat on her plate was not decreasing at all, while the more honest Col gripped his spoon and stared intently at the grain of the table’s wood.

No doubt this all made Piasky the entertainer very happy.

In contrast to that, it seemed only Lawrence was troubled.

If only an experienced merchant would look at Piasky and ask the same questions Lawrence had, then it would take the same kind of person to be able to answer those questions.

And even if the answer was something that would incite a smile, Piasky would not know what part of it would do so. So for Lawrence, the answer was a bit troubling.

“Well, I can’t have you up all night trying to work out the answer. I’ll be happy to give it to you whenever you like.”

Piasky’s insistence was more than enough to deepen the furrows on the brows of Lawrence’s two companions.

If Lawrence didn’t say something, then there was no telling how long the two of them would be agonizing over it.

“Besides, thinking it over will only empty your stomach, and finding the answer won’t fill it back up again.”

The prospect of a hungry journey worked quite well to snap them out of their reverie, and the two resumed eating.

Lawrence met Piasky’s eyes and smiled slightly. After all, a pleasant meal was always welcome.

“Would that Brondel Abbey were at the edge of the world.”

“Even I don’t have that many riddles.”

That evening, they laughed, ate, and drank into the night.

The next day saw large puffs of snowflakes falling.

Mercifully there was no wind, but with heavy snowfall of flakes as big as a thumbnail, visibility was extremely poor.

With their hoods pulled down nearly over their eyes, their white breath fogged up what little was left of their fields of view.

And yet it was far from rare to find a crusty old merchant with failing eyes who nonetheless had a perfect grasp of the complicated web of trade routes he used. So it was with their packhorse driver, a man who had been plying these roads for forty years, and for whom the current poor visibility was barely worthy of mention. The taciturn horseman led the cart horse out of the way station and out across the white plains, his gait sure.

As even a brief stop would result in them becoming quickly covered by snow, there was no rest in the march.

But the white scenery was so ceaselessly monotonous that after taking a brief lunch atop the horse, Col dozed off.

A horse’s back was still a good distance from the ground. If Col fell, he risked serious injury, so Lawrence took out some hemp rope he had prepared just in case and started to loop it around Holo and Col both when he noticed something.

Holo, who he had assumed was long since asleep, was actually awake and holding Col securely in her arms.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

The snow deadened sound as well as hurting visibility. Despite the silence, Lawrence could barely hear his own voice. Their conversation would be inaudible to Piasky, who was behind them on another horse.

“I am not,” came the hazy reply, which Lawrence very nearly laughed at in spite of himself.

But he knew perfectly well that her answer came from her irritation at Piasky’s riddle the previous evening.

It was not something one could simply reason their way through, and even a merchant might not have been able to guess it, depending on the circumstances.

Col had quickly given up and gone to bed, but Holo the Wisewolf seemed to feel obligated to think about it longer.

Yet it was ridiculous to spend all night agonizing over even a great riddle, to say nothing of such a trivial dinnertime puzzle. And not finding the answer was only more frustrating.

Holo’s childish irritation would usually drive her to steal meaningful glances in Lawrence’s direction, of which he was well aware.

“What? You don’t see the answer?” He would laugh, and a pouting Holo would hastily tell him what it was.

That was their usual routine.

But Lawrence had not done that.

He had hoped that Holo would forget about the question entirely. The riddle’s answer made him a bit anxious.

Even Lawrence thought he was worrying about it too much, but he ignored Holo’s first glance, and then her second. And the third and fourth. At which point Holo was obviously upset as she continued to mull it over. Having gotten to this point, even a solution with a hilarious twist would only serve to further anger her.

It was harder than ever to tell her the answer.

And so it had gone, right up until the present moment.

Lawrence should have told her the answer right away, but it was too late for such regrets.

“So that’s how it is.”

The second time Holo spoke that day, what came out of her mouth was a lengthy, irritated sigh of a long and rambling speech, which she wrapped up with these final words.

Col listened, his face blank with astonishment, as he busied himself by hanging their traveling clothes up to dry on a leather cord.

After dinner, just when they’d noticed that Holo had disappeared for a while, she returned to the room and immediately dove into her speech, so Col’s reaction was entirely understandable.

For Lawrence’s part, he was simply impressed that she’d managed to work it out.

“You’re exactly right.”

“You fool!”

Lawrence had no excuse to give and could only reply honestly, which earned him an equally honest curse from Holo.

And yet seeing Lawrence look so foolish seemed to take the wind out of Holo’s anger’s sails.

She sat and asked Col to bring her wine, rudely pulled the cork out with her teeth, and put the contents to her lips.

“Your strange manner made me want to know the answer that much more. And to think…”

“So you went and asked?” Not long ago, Col would have trembled in terror at Holo’s anger, but now he was bold enough to venture the question.

“Aye. I went and told him it had kept me up and got laughed at for my trouble. Me—Holo the Wisewolf!”

“I learned at school that there are things you can’t learn without asking. But what was the answer?”

Col continued to hang their clothes as he asked the question. Holo did not answer immediately, instead directing her gaze at Lawrence.

“It’s too much trouble to explain. You do it,” her gaze seemed to say.

Which was probably true.

With a bottle of strong wine in one hand, Holo bit into a piece of jerky.

“A man like Piasky, who’s used to traveling alone but also skilled at cooking meals for many people, is quite rare. He must be involved in establishing new towns or marketplaces. When he talked about guiding large groups of people, those people are probably on their way to start new lives in a new place.”

“Ooh…”

Despite listening to Lawrence with an impressed expression, Col adroitly finished attending to the drying and then checked in on the sunken hearth in the middle of the room.

There was no fireplace, nor did the room have good circulation, so managing the fire was quite difficult.

“Essentially, the people he’s guiding aren’t used to traveling. So without the ability to fully equip them all, as well as quickly solve whatever problems arise, he wouldn’t be able to do his job.”

“In truth, I’ve led a pack myself, and he looks to be a fine, reliable male. He speaks his mind and speaks it cleverly.” Holo glared at Lawrence with half-lidded eyes.

Lawrence coughed. Col smiled nervously and continued.

“So he does a rather uncommon job, then. But then…”

Why was Mr. Lawrence trying to hide the answer to the riddle from Miss Holo?

The question in his eyes was obvious as he looked at Lawrence.

There was nothing so embarrassing as having to admit he had been too worried. But if he didn’t accept his punishment, it seemed unlikely that Holo would forgive him.

Of course, he begged forgiveness every single time Holo was angry at him. He could hardly call himself a proper merchant, but here in this room, where the fire had to be kept small lest it fill the space with smoke, the warmth of Holo’s tail would be very important during the night.

A merchant had to be able to weigh profit and loss.

“Piasky’s job is helping colonists. If he’s being helped by a king or the nobility, it’s to increase the land they control. If he’s backed by the Church, it’s to spread their faith. In any case, there are many reasons, but they all have one thing in common. If the colonists arrive at their new land and manage to become established there, it will become their new homeland.”

“Ah…”

“The work is difficult but profitable, and if successful will earn the gratitude of many people. I’ve even heard of such leaders becoming minor nobility themselves, at the request of the villagers or townspeople they aided. But many of those who set out for new lands have lost their homes to war, famine, or disease. So—”

Lawrence looked at Holo before continuing.

“—That’s why I was hoping you’d forget the matter.”

“Hmph.” Holo turned away in irritation, tossing a piece of skin she had torn free of the jerky into the fire. This sent a puff of ash up, which Col followed with his eyes as though witnessing something magical. “’Tis not our way to find a new homeland. Our home is our home. What’s important is not who’s there, but where the land itself is. And anyway, I’ll bet you were just worried I’d say something like this, aye?”

They had argued countless times.

She had seen right through Lawrence’s thinking.

“Could you please find a homeland for me, as well?” she finished, her eyes coquettishly upturned.

Surprised, Col watched the entire exchange.

Lawrence could tell she was angry.

But he also knew her anger was that of a cat who had been fussed over too much and was now holding out a threatening claw.

“Males are such fools!”

“…I cannot argue with that.”

“Honestly,” Holo spat and then drank her wine.

At a loss, Lawrence brushed his hair aside—this, too, was just as it always was.

Once Col laughed at them in amusement, the ritual was complete.

Holo’s tail swished to and fro. Tomorrow would be another early morning.

“I grow weary from anger. To bed with me.”

Her skill as a pack leader was impressive, indeed.

In the end, they arrived at Brondel Abbey around midday of the third day.

Perhaps by the grace of God, only the second day had seen heavy snowfall. They passed easily through the checkpoint into the merchants’ quarter, which was not necessarily something to be pleased about.

The high walls that enclosed the space were what one would expect of an abbey, but upon entering the gate, the atmosphere was that of a town inhabited only by merchants.

It was enough to make Holo quip, “You should drop a copper coin and see what happens,” from atop their horse.

No doubt it would immediately bring all eyes upon them, like a sneeze during the prayer in a church service.

“It’s quite possible there’s nothing that can’t be bought here,” said Piasky mischievously, riding his horse alongside them.

Lawrence smiled at that but wondered privately if it might not actually be true.

The center of the street had been somehow cleared of snow, but it was flanked on both sides by piles of the stuff, and unsurprisingly the air around them was as cold as an ice cave. There were even parts of the horse’s mane that had frozen.

Despite the cold, merchants were everywhere, arms crossed across their bodies as they each talked up their businesses. Somehow they seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves, even stomping their feet to ward off the cold, unable to resist smiling like children.

“Now, then, if you’ll wait here, I’ll make arrangements for your room.”

“I shall leave it to you.”

Piasky tied Lawrence’s horse up at a public stable, then dismounted his own steed and trotted off.

Mounting and dismounting a horse took a certain amount of skill, and all the more so when one’s body was stiff from cold. Lawrence was the first to climb down, and then he took Holo and then Col in his arms as he helped them off.

Once everyone was on the ground, Lawrence thanked the driver for a safe journey.

The man remained as silent and taciturn as ever, but crossed his arms lightly over his chest and gave a bow in a polite gesture of parting, every bit the image of a devout northerner.

“Still, this place is rather large, is it not? From what you were saying, I thought ’twould be smaller and at more of a remove.”

“I only knew it by reputation. But I know it’s the place where it’s said enough wool to fill the straits of Winfiel is traded. Look there—they even have glass windows.”

There, under a lead-gray sky, from which a snowflake occasionally fell as though it had suddenly remembered to fall, were grand three-story buildings of stone with top-floor windows that reflected the sky’s color.

Not every building had windows of glass, but each of them seemed sturdy enough to shrug off a few flaming arrows at least. There were five in total on one side of the street or the other, each with wide paths leading from their entrances.

But they were not the only things at the site. There were large public stables, and across from them was a great barn exclusively for sheep. It seemed fully large enough, but Piasky had said there were many more like it.

“Mm. ’Tis quite a feat to build such things out here in the snow.” Holo grinned boldly and looked ahead.

There lay the merchant annex to the great abbey of Brondel. While it might well have been merely an annex situated a horse’s ride away from the abbey proper, it in no way hurt the majesty of the latter.

At the end of the road that led from the annex’s entrance stood a building with a weighty majesty that was greater than any of the others nearby.

Hanging within a steeple so tall it seemed to reach to the heavens themselves was a great bell, larger than even ten horses could hope to move. This was a sanctuary that had been built to bring peace to the souls of merchants. And doubtless it did exactly that.

Although that did come with a sense of overwhelming pressure.

“There’s something that I learned in school.”

“Oh?”

“That clergy from the northlands are the best at questioning heretics.”

Lawrence understood Col all too well. Inquisitors had no mercy. A place like this was indeed well suited to the bearded servants of God, with their eyes as cold and pitiless as hawks’.

“Still, that was long ago, was it not?” Holo’s gaze was fixed upon a monk wrapped in more wool than the sheep, chatting happily with a group of merchants as he led them out of the building.

His face was ruddy and his cheeks plump—a far cry from the virtues of obedience, purity, and honorable poverty.

Holo looked at Lawrence and spoke. “Certainly—we live in a time when even you can come on pilgrimage.”

Holo smiled a bold, fearless smile that teetered right on the edge of outright laughter.

“…Still, I’m a bit worried,” Lawrence said as he looked at the breath that rose whitely as he exhaled, then cast his gaze across their surroundings.

A kick from Holo brought him back to himself, and looking at her angry eyes, he realized he had been misunderstood.

“Ah, sorry, I should’ve explained better. I wasn’t talking about you.” She continued to regard him with suspicion so Lawrence elaborated. “I’m a bit worried that there are too many people here.”

“Er, do you mean…” It was Col who spoke up.

Given the way he had been gazing curiously around at the scene, it was quite possible he had come to the same conclusion as Lawrence.

“There are too many people for grounds of this size. No matter how grand the buildings might be, a bunch of arrogant merchants and monks with no patience for cramped conditions will never be satisfied with such confined space.”

“Do you mean to say there may be no lodging for us?”

If this was meant to be a place to conduct business negotiations, it would have to have places to store contracts, as well as places to discuss the contents of those contracts. This meant office space and workers to maintain the upkeep of such space. Cooks and food staff would be necessary, too, and the higher the status of the merchants that visited, the larger their entourage would be.

Lawrence doubted that his bad feeling was merely pessimism inspired by the poor weather. It was all too easy to think such things before a monastery devoted to prayer to God.

Lawrence and his companions continued to look around dubiously, and soon there appeared Piasky, trotting out of one of the buildings with—just as Lawrence expected—a concerned expression on his face.

Just as one would expect of a merchant whose swiftness of foot outstripped his skill at negotiation, Piasky immediately cut to the heart of the matter. “I’m very sorry. There are too many people, and I was unable to secure a room.”

Despite having anticipated this, Lawrence was not immediately sure how to respond. As he struggled for an answer, Piasky continued.

“You might be able to sleep alongside others in one of the larger rooms…” His words trailed off as his gaze fell upon Holo.

What would happen if Holo were to sleep in a room crowded with merchants? It would be like tossing meat to a pack of wild dogs.

“Alternatively, we might be able to find you an earthen-floor room to rent…but in weather like this, that wouldn’t be terribly different from making camp. Ah, what a bother. Apparently over the last couple of days, there’s been a surge of people.”

“What about stables?”

“They’re full all the way to the haylofts. In this time of year, they’re even warmer than the inn rooms, after all. And I don’t even have to mention the wool storehouses.”

Piasky’s face fell into deep contemplation, as though he were leading travelers along a road that had been blocked by a landslide and was now impassable.

His concern seemed to be genuine rather than for show. Lawrence could see why Holo had approved of him.

But that did not mean he would be able to fix their situation.

If they were to end up staying in a stone building with an earthen floor, they would need to secure bedding.

Lawrence was about to say so, but before he could, the surroundings seemed to erupt in a great commotion—although upon a second look, it was coming from a particular direction.

“Ho, the White Army returns!” shouted one of the merchants among the many in the street. Lawrence looked in the direction of the noise, and as his line of sight fell upon the entrance to the annex, he understood what the shout meant.

With a low rumble that seemed to shake the ground, a wave of sheep flowed in. Not even a fully armed mercenary band could hold its ground against such a flood.

As the sheep passed through the flung-open gates, they were soon herded by dog and spear into the many barns set aside for them.

Shortly thereafter, there could be heard the bells that so often rang out across the plains as a quartet of shepherds passed through the gates and entered the town. Here they were not loathed as in Ruvinheigen, and the merchants who knew them greeted them happily, petting the heads of the sheepdogs and thanking them for a day’s work well done.

The shepherds were certainly a scruffy group. And yet looking at their nonetheless dignified forms, Lawrence couldn’t help but think if Norah the shepherdess could find employ in a place like this, she might not suffer so.

“’Tis all too clear what you’re thinking about.”

At Holo’s sudden words, Lawrence snapped back to reality. As he flinched and looked over at her, it was all too clear just who the sheep was.

But Holo seemed to be satisfied with his pathetic reaction, so rather than press her advantage, she spoke with a quiet expression. “Fate is truly a force in the world. The world is too complicated for all to come easily.”

“…You’re right about that.” Any number of their adventures thus far served as evidence.

As they spoke quietly, Lawrence suddenly felt someone’s gaze upon him, and he looked up. His eyes fell upon the gates through which the flood of sheep had just finished passing.

With the sheep now inside, the gates were being closed, and calm was beginning to return.

But the shepherds remained.

Lawrence got the feeling that one of them, an old man, was looking at them.

“Scriveners’ rooms…no, no…perhaps the storage room at the far end of the hall…or—hmm?” Piasky continued to mull over the problem of Lawrence and his companions’ lodgings, but he saw Lawrence’s curious look, at which he stopped.

After looking toward the shepherds briefly, he clapped his hands. “That’s it. There might be some vacancies in the shepherds’ quarters. I’ve heard they’re less busy in the winter—just let me go ask and see.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Piasky ran off.

It was possible that the shepherd Lawrence thought was looking at them had instead been looking past them at the sanctuary. Just as he revised his thinking, Holo glared suspiciously at the shepherds.

“One of those had his eye on us just now.”

“I wondered.”

Only Col seemed surprised by this, and he looked around nervously.

It was not surprising for unfriendly towns or villages to treat travelers with hostility, but that was not what Lawrence sensed.

“Well, perhaps he simply found you a bit unusual. There are plenty of abbeys with both nuns and monks, but there aren’t any nuns here.”

“Aye…he was indeed surprised.”

“I assume you didn’t show your ears or tail,” Lawrence said jokingly.

At this Holo drew her chin in and replied with eyes half lidded from boredom. “’Tis not as though there’s aught here to make my heart race. My ears and tail are lifeless beneath my robe.”

“That’s good. I prefer a modest girl.”

Holo stomped on Lawrence’s foot, and Col turned away, trying to hide his laughter.

Piasky seemed to have successfully negotiated something during the trio’s third-rate sideshow. He turned toward them and waved happily in their direction.

“Will you be all right staying in the shepherds’ quarters?” Lawrence asked Holo.

“You said you preferred a modest girl, didn’t you?”

Lawrence was not worried that she would wither in front of the shepherds as much as he was concerned that her dislike of them would spoil her mood, but she coolly brushed the question off.

And no doubt she would be fine as promised. Holo was not a child after all.

“Well, then, I’d say that’s our best choice,” said Lawrence, returning Piasky’s wave.

But then, to Lawrence’s surprise, Piasky exchanged a handshake with the very same old shepherd they had been discussing before.

Evidently the shepherds of the great abbey of Brondel, who still told tales of the golden sheep, would be sharing their lodgings with the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, guardian of the wheat harvest.

Perhaps the world was a more peaceful place than it seemed after all.

“Huskins.”

Owing to the sound of their bags hitting the floor, Lawrence nearly missed the man’s introduction. Once he realized what it was, he hastily extended his right hand in greeting.

“Kraft Lawrence.”

“…”

As he shook hands with Huskins, who stood in the doorway, he noticed the man’s hands were as tough as sheep hooves.

“This is Holo. And that’s Col. Strange circumstances have led to them traveling with me.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Holo.

“And I’m very pleased to meet you, as well,” said Col.

As he shook hands with each of them, Huskins the shepherd ultimately said nothing more than his own name.

His hair was the color of hay and snow, with long eyebrows and a beard that nearly reached his chest. He was built solidly, his back not hunched nor his body underfed. The corners of his eyes were deeply wrinkled, and his gray eyes shone as though gazing at a far-off horizon. While surely past his agile years, his movements had a peculiar strength to them and made one think of a wily old ram.

A true herdsman who wandered the plains. A keen-eyed shepherd. There were any number of ways to describe him.

Huskins was such a man, a venerable shepherd whose age gave him a certain aura.

“Thank you so much for this. You’ve truly helped us.”

As Piasky would have it, the shepherds that lived here with Huskins only returned once every few years. As long as Lawrence and his companions were willing to attend to their own meals, they could use the vacant rooms.

Of course, not being an inn, each room did not have its own fireplace—there was a sunken brick hearth shared among the rooms, but even that was far better than sleeping alongside strangers or on a dirt floor in a stone building.

“I’ll tend the fire. Aside from that, you’re free to do as you will.”

It was said that after tending to their vast flocks, enduring harsh conditions day in and day out, shepherds were saintlier than actual saints—and Huskins certainly seemed so.

He did not seem inclined to respond to small talk, nor did he evidently wish to.

Lawrence nodded at what he was told and asked no further questions.

Huskins wordlessly looked the trio over for a moment, gave a brief nod, and then walked back to the room with the hearth.

“Is he a Church scholar?” Col asked quietly as Huskins’s footsteps faded away.

It was not unreasonable to think so. Even Lawrence found it easy to imagine himself asking Huskins’s advice in times of trouble.

“He does seem like a sort of wilderness wise man, doesn’t he?”

“Am I the butt of that joke?” Holo popped a dried raspberry in her mouth as soon as Lawrence opened their bags. Lawrence gave her a mild glance and shrugged purposefully.

“We’ve more leftovers than I thought. With this much, it should last us a while, even counting for Huskins’s portion. And if we run low, we’re surrounded by merchants, so it’ll hardly be a problem.”

“Yes, only the well was very crowded, so water might be a problem.”

That was Col—always keeping his eyes open.

When traveling without money, finding water was the highest priority.

Even a little food could be stretched to last a week, but it was not so with water.

“Should we go draw some now maybe?” Col asked.

“Perhaps…yes, go ahead and do that. We’ll need it at dinner, and it’s possible the well will freeze during the night.”

“Right!”

Col seemed to feel most at ease when he had been given a task to complete. He gave his cheerful reply and then took a bucket and water skin before going back out into the cold.

Lawrence next addressed Holo, who quite unlike the industrious Col was lying back on a straw bed, popping dried raspberries into her mouth.

“It wasn’t long ago that I would’ve greeted the sight of you there with sarcasm and gotten your rage in return,” said Lawrence.

Holo also needed to feel useful, but unlike Col, she did not show it outwardly. She did such a good job of disguising this, in fact, that Lawrence sometimes forgot it was true.

“…Seems you’ve managed to learn something, then.”

“Even I learn eventually.”

“Heh. Still, if we resort to staying here long enough, our food supplies become a concern. That will be a bit of a bother.” Popping the final morsel into her mouth, Holo sat up.

“Mm, yes, true. And if the snow piles up too much, we could well end up trapped in here. I agree with you that if we’re to be trapped, I’d rather have it be in a town.”

“There’s that, but I’ve another reason.”

“Another?”

“Aye. You might well find yourself buried alive under the wool left behind by the sheep I’d devour.”

“That’s an eventuality I’m keen to avoid.”

Holo was not necessarily joking. Even seen from a distance, it was clear the flock’s wool was very fine. No doubt its meat would be likewise.

“Yet with that lot outside stuck here as well, they’ll have naught to do but trade rumors. As we’re seeking information, that could be rather convenient for us.”

“That’s a double-edged sword. Rumors spread in the blink of an eye in a place like this. We need to find out about the wolf bones while drawing as little attention as possible, that’s the problem.”

Lawrence stroked his beard as he thought this over, and it did not take very long for him to consider what few possibilities there were.

It was very difficult to keep the mouths of others closed.

What they needed was someone in whom they could safely place their trust, and at the moment, there was only one person like that.

But Lawrence hesitated to fully trust Piasky.

There was no doubt he was an excellent individual—so much so that Lawrence did not want to have to stand beside him in front of Holo.

“’Twill be well. Just as a pack with two heads will often quarrel among itself, so too will its two leaders not become terribly close friends. ’Tis nothing to worry over.”

Holo’s words had cut so perfectly to the core of Lawrence’s concern that it was almost frustrating. But even he found it difficult to admit that he was hesitant to ask Piasky’s aid because he was worried about how well Piasky and Holo might get along.

And yet if he remained resolute in his pride, he would be playing right into the wolf’s paws. And his lack of faith could even be construed as lack of faith in Holo.

So Lawrence bluffed as though the biggest business deal of his life were riding on it. “After all we’ve been through, I’m not particularly concerned with whom you choose to be friends with,” he declared.

Even Holo’s ears should not be able to catch the lie, he reckoned.

And yet the moment he thought as much, Holo made a face as though she had just watched a rabbit hop into a snare. “Oh? Aren’t you the leader of this pack?”

It took only a brief instant.

“You were keeping your guard up even as you got along with that other male, aye? Well, I suppose it’s common for the new leader of a pack to try a bit too hard. I surely don’t fail to understand your concerns…”

Lawrence thought back over Holo’s words. She was a genius at obscuring the subject of her sentences. Worse, she understood all too well how others would interpret them.

“I thought as much, but—so ’tis true, then, that you were worried about such a thing? Not only do you count me the pack’s leader, but you’re hoping I won’t give my favor to another?” Holo grinned. “Such an adorable pup.”

She had gotten him again after all this time.

Lawrence did not so much as grunt.

The way she looked up at him with her chin in her hands was maddeningly cheeky. He wanted to grab her cheek, wrap her in a blanket, and toss her outside.

But if he lost his temper here, it would be like throwing oil on the fire of his shame. Like tossing money after a thief.

Lawrence reminded himself that gracefully accepting his defeat, while allowing a little frustration to show through, was the best response—the response most worthy of a merchant.

He heard the sound of rustling fabric; it was the sound of Holo turning over in her bed, annoyed by Lawrence’s unexpectedly calm reaction.

“Hmph, look at you, playing at being such a reasonable male.”

It was a terrible thing to say, but he could not rise to the bait.

“It’s easy enough to do if I just think back to my childhood.”

“Oh, aye?”

Lawrence held up his index finger and placed his other arm behind him at his waist, as though delivering a lecture. “When trying to attract the attention of the one you care for, what’s the most charming method?”

Holo was dumbfounded.

“Why it’s to harass her a little bit and make her notice you.”

So don’t get upset over every little thing. Lawrence walked over to the bed and poked Holo’s nose with his index finger.

Naturally there were any number of comebacks she could have hurled at him. Lawrence was well aware of this, given how many times he had been sure he had her cornered only to have her turn the tables.

So he was fully prepared to have the finger he had thrust at her nose bitten, but for some reason, Holo seemed to find that fact itself amusing.

As Lawrence waited, wondering when she would counter-attack, she simply sat there looking up at him.

At length, with his finger still on her nose, she spoke in a slightly nasal tone. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

One did not always prefer what was objectively best. Piasky, for example.

Such was the signal of Holo’s surrender. But her words had been chosen specifically to avoid flattering Lawrence.

“I-I’ll take that as a compliment.”

It was pathetic of him to stutter at such a crucial moment, though Her Wisewolfness seemed pleased.

“Hmph.” Holo laughed through her nose.

Shortly thereafter, Col returned breathlessly to the room, carrying water with him.

While they were not particularly trying to obscure their identities, Lawrence and his companions only entered the sanctuary once the sun had begun to set.

Even with candles, the hour seemed somehow darker than true night.

As the snow continued to fall outside, the prospect of sitting in a pew and offering prayers of devotion had started to seem rather attractive.

The abbey’s day was offset from the regular business day by about 25 percent, so the evening sermon was long since over, and the only ones in the sanctuary were Lawrence, his companions, and Piasky, along with a monk carrying a sheepskin satchel of very fine quality.

When he saw that Lawrence and the others had finished their prayers, he wordlessly approached them and opened his bag.

Piasky, Lawrence, and his two companions all dropped silver coins from across the sea into it.

“The blessings of God be upon you,” said the monk gruffly and then quickly retreated.

No doubt he had candle lighting and nocturne to prepare for, but such treatment would hardly inspire average believers to come here on pilgrimage.

“Now, then, shall we?” murmured Piasky, and the words left his mouth in a puff of white vapor.

It was cold and well past the time to be enjoying wine, mutton, and merrymaking.

Unlike Lawrence, Piasky had many friends here, and it was his busiest time of day.

Lawrence nodded. Col was still silently praying, as was Holo; Lawrence nudged him, and they stood.

The sanctuary’s high ceiling, from its entrance to the altar, gave the space a sense of grandeur, along with the august, divine majesty thanks to wealth accumulated over many years. If the embroidered curtain that hung down from the ceiling, faded by candle soot and cold winters alike, were pulled back, it felt very much that the past could be glimpsed as a golden, glittering land.

“Brondel Abbey…the house of our almighty God…,” Col murmured, looking back after they’d passed the cloister and gone through a set of iron-barred, heavily fortified doors.

Though they would call Col a pagan, he did not seem to particularly hate the Church.

Perhaps he was struck by the majesty of this building that had been constructed here in the land of falling snow and had decided to let such small details slide, or perhaps he was simply fond of that verse.

Under normal circumstances Holo would have made sport of him, but she continued to hold his hand when he stopped and joined him in looking back. After a moment like that, they both followed after Lawrence.

“In truth, I would’ve liked to be able to invite you and your companions along as well, Mr. Lawrence…”

“Not at all. I understand entirely. Though if this were a business negotiation, I’d have a seat at the table even if I had to invite myself.”

“Ha-ha-ha, I appreciate your saying so. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Indeed. Enjoy your wining!”

Lawrence and company took their leave of Piasky there in the torch-lit sanctuary and then proceeded to the shepherds’ dormitories. At this late hour the streets were empty, even those around the sanctuary, and the only light came from the lanterns beside each building’s door.

“I’ll just bet he’ll have good wining, I will,” said Holo.

They had not prayed within the sanctuary very long, but the footprints they had left on their way in had been buried under the falling snow.

“The wine in our wineskins is good enough,” said Lawrence.

“Aye, but good wining means good food and good company as well.”

“Just what are you getting at…?” Lawrence immediately assumed she was talking about him, but then realized otherwise. “Look, you—don’t say anything like that at dinner, understand?”

Beneath her hood, Holo heaved a heavy sigh. Lawrence was certain that the whump sound of a foot stomping on snow was not his imagination.

“Just how is one meant to enjoy their drink around one so scruffy and gloomy? Not only would he not give me a proper greeting, just when I wondered where he’d gone, he returned with a basket full of raw mutton. Just what is he thinking, drying it above the hearth like that? Is he making sport of me?”

Shepherds departed early in the morning and returned only when the sun went down, so aside from dinner, most of their eating was done out of doors. To make matters worse, this was a place where snow was the norm. If the snow was too severe, a shepherd could be forced to find somewhere to stay at through the night. There certainly was no room in the dormitory for all the sheep. Preparing food for his comrades in the many stables here and there was part of his job.

Rather than being deliberately unsociable, Huskins’s lack of grace was probably due to his being simply busy with preparations for the next day.

Of course, it was less that and more the fact that he had the nerve to make mutton jerky right in front of her that bothered Holo so much. Worse, next to the string of jerky were links of mutton sausage.

“If it’s jerky you want, there should still be some in the bag.”

“That tough stuff suits my taste not,” said Holo, turning away in displeasure.

It was enough to make Lawrence laugh. She was like an unreasonable child. But he knew he needed to be prepared for when she decided to truly press him. She had only given him trouble because the meat had been right before her eyes.

“If we do as Piasky did and put it in stew, it’ll turn nice and tender,” said Lawrence, which Holo looked up at, her lips curled in a derisive sneer.

“Why don’t you just use the stewpot for a pillow from now on, hmm?”

Lawrence replied with a sigh. “Are you saying it’ll soften my head?”

Holo faced forward and did not deign to reply.

Such was their conversation as they returned to the dormitory, the sounds of laughter and the scents of delicious food emanating from the rooms they passed. Holo was not the only one licking her lips at the smell of mutton.

The rickety doors of each building would be easily broken with a kick. Holo peered through each one as they passed, trying to catch a glimpse of what was being eaten within.

There were five rooms in the dormitory, with Lawrence and his companions occupying one of two rooms on the second floor.

In total, fifteen shepherds were housed there, and there was even a kennel dedicated for the sheepdogs. Counting the barns that dotted the surrounding countryside, Lawrence guessed there were around thirty shepherds in total. Not all of them would know each other, as they alternated sleeping out in the barns and here in the dormitory.

Of them, Huskins was the oldest, and he supposedly knew more about sheep than God.

“We’ve returned.”

It was not uncommon for travelers to rent rooms in the others’ homes while journeying. A good way to ensure a pleasant time for all was to greet the home’s occupants warmly.

“It’s a magnificent sanctuary you have here.”

Huskins gave only a minute nod, silently trimming tendons and fat from raw meat. Holo’s look of pleasure was no doubt thanks to his removal of the fat, her favorite part.

Once Lawrence had seen Holo and Col back to the room, he immediately set about preparing for dinner. They were only allowed to stay there on the condition that they look after Huskins’s meals.

Just as Lawrence picked up a stewpot, Huskins suddenly spoke.

“…A fitting place for God to live.”

Understanding that this was in reference to the sanctuary, Lawrence smiled and nodded.

Lawrence borrowed some tools from Huskins to make a support for the pot, and then filled it with water, along with the ingredients in the proportions he had learned from Piasky.

He knew Holo liked a slightly stronger flavor, so he put in a little extra salt. Likewise he had heard that shepherds, like their sheep, preferred their food salty. He added some of the tough jerky, along with the bread that had been reduced to crumbs in its bag, making what would be a very nutritious meal.

Normally this would have been a good opportunity for some idle conversation, but Huskins was as quiet as ever as he continued his work. It was often said that those who spent their years with animals would soon become unable to speak with anyone else, and Lawrence could understand why someone would say so.

“Dinner’s on.”

Lawrence went over to the next room to call Holo and Col in, whereupon he saw that they had pulled a few pieces of straw out of the bed and were playing a childish guessing game with them, trying to guess the shortest one.

Given the smile on his face, it seemed likely that Col was winning.

Lawrence patted Holo’s head as he walked by them, and she very distinctly leaned toward him flirtatiously.

She didn’t seem to be in very good spirits.

“Thanks be to God for this meal.”

As befit an abbey, they recited the traditional prayer—something they did not normally do.

With a smile on his face, Col started eating immediately, but Holo’s expression was a sour one, as though she really were a nun.

This was partially because the stew had only jerky for meat, but also because her distilled grape wine did not taste good with the hot broth.

Travel notwithstanding, now that they had reached their destination, Lawrence did not mind if she got drunk. He was sure he would hear her complaints on the subject, except that before them sat Huskins, like some sort of hermit.

In order to keep up appearances, Lawrence had decided it was best for them to appear to be pious pilgrims.

Their only acquaintance here was Piasky, and with the Ruvik Alliance lingering in the area, it was doubtful how much weight the Rowen Trade Guild’s name would carry.

It would be best to seize the opportunity that staying with Huskins provided, given that although he was merely a shepherd, he had still lived in the abbey for a very long time. Like a jug filled with water, a taciturn person’s mind was filled with knowledge. The problem was figuring out how to remove the lid.

Huskins continued to eat his meal, silent, offering neither comments nor thanks.

Given that the dinner was a contractually obligated one, expressing any criticism would likely lead to a conflict, so his silence was undoubtedly the correct approach.

Unfortunately, this also meant that Lawrence had no opportunity to begin to pry the lid off. He would have to wait for a chance to present itself.

Lawrence thought it over as he continued to eat, and finally Huskins stood.

The contents of the pot were nearly gone—all that was left was to divvy up the remaining thick broth.

Holo grinned openly at the prospect of having one less person to have to share with, but her grin disappeared as he sat back down.

Huskins casually took a piece of jerky that had been drying on a strap and dropped it into the pot.

“…It’s nice, eating with a group for once.”

His voice was like a burned-out log collapsing in a campfire, but to Lawrence and his companions, each of whom had often eaten alone, it was a warm and friendly greeting.

Holo’s mood immediately improved, and she was already eating some of the meat, which had not yet had a chance to properly boil.

Just as Lawrence was going to thank Huskins, he saw the old man offering him a small bottle.

As far as he could tell from the whitish substance around the lid, it seemed to be some sort of liquor made from sheep’s milk.

Lawrence finished the wine in his own cup, then gratefully allowed Huskins to pour him some of the proffered drink.

“There’s a taste I’ve not had in some time.” It was a flavor one either loved or hated, and for his part Lawrence was none too fond of it.

And yet he understood that this was a gesture of friendship from Huskins, made in spite of their short stay.

Lawrence made a great show of savoring the stuff, such that Holo was surely laughing inwardly at him.

“So, Mr. Huskins…” Lawrence pretended at being prompted to speak out of drunkenness and stopped short to take in Huskins’s reaction.

Huskins was cutting a piece of the boiled meat with a knife, which he put in his mouth and chased down with a drink of the milk liquor before looking at Lawrence.

“…You’ve been here long, have you?”

“…A few dozen years now. Since the time of the abbot before last.”

“I see. I’ve been traveling since I was a boy, doing business all the while. I can barely imagine what it must be like to have spent so much time in one place.”

Huskins said nothing, and sensing that he was still listening, Lawrence continued.

“Incidentally, I’ve heard there are three things that never change in the Winfiel kingdom. What about you, Mr. Huskins—would you say that’s true?”

At these words, Huskins’s knife froze in midslice in his bowl. His eyes looked far into the distance, as anyone’s did when they were searching their memories.

“…The arrogant nobles, the beautiful plains…”

“And the flocks of sheep!”

As Lawrence finished the sentence, a faint smile flashed across Huskins’s face.

“…It doesn’t change much, this land.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“…You think so?” Huskins’s voice was quiet but clear, as though he had seen through all of Lawrence’s flattery.

Lawrence could feel Holo look up at him from under her hood, a bit of meat in her mouth.

His words were clear enough.

But Lawrence neither panicked nor cowered. He was a merchant and had no small amount of experience himself. “I use the same words any time I return somewhere after a year of travel and business.” Lawrence smiled and continued, “Things never change.”

“…”

From beneath the long, gray eyebrows, those animal yet human eyes focused on Lawrence. The powerful gaze felt somehow like Huskins was looking at him good and hard for the very first time.

The old shepherd then brought the cup of sheep’s milk to his lips and nodded. “This place doesn’t change, either. Reckon it’ll stay that way, too.”

“No doubt. This is Brondel Abbey after all.”

Huskins nodded; then after nodding, he wordlessly poured Lawrence some more liquor.

Lawrence got the feeling Huskins had taken a liking to him. He could not stop himself from wishing that the wine were actually tasty.

“Thought not even a stone wall can resist the changes of the passing days,” said Lawrence.

“…You mean those merchants? Are you lot any different?” This sarcastic manner of asking was particular to the region.

Lawrence swallowed more liquor and smiled, chagrined. “I am indeed a merchant, but my aim is a bit different from the others flocking here.”

“…Oh ho. Coming all the way out here and bringing God’s little lambs with you…”

“I’m here on pilgrimage to inquire about a holy relic here at the abbey.”

Lawrence did not mention the wolf bones.

An abbey as large as Brondel would certainly have a few holy relics, and many pilgrims would surely come to view them.

Huskins appeared momentarily surprised but soon seemed to accept the story. He worked his mouth as though murmuring something and then nodded. “…There are many reasons to travel. Such brings color to a drab world.”

Coming from the mouth of a minstrel, such words would have been mere affectation, but from Huskins they had the ring of truth.

Lawrence smiled and nodded, giving Huskins the greater portion of what delicious, savory broth remained in the bowl.

The next morning, Huskins left before dawn broke.

Through the window, the energetic barking of the sheepdogs could be heard as could chattering human voices, which suggested he always left around this hour.

Lawrence shivered at the frigid air that crept in under the blanket and clung to Holo’s tail—she was under the same blanket—trying to hold on to the happiness of warmth just a bit longer.

When he next awoke, a good amount of time had passed. The sun was already well in the sky, and several rays slipped through the cracks in the window.

No sooner had he mused upon how complacent he had grown, having done no business in a while, than he realized what it was that let him sleep so soundly.

It was very warm under the covers—and Holo had slept in the same bed all night.

“I surely am handy to have about.”

And surely it was pleasant to awaken to a beautiful maiden sleeping upon one’s chest—though not perhaps when her mouth was full of jerky.

And not when her breath stank of liquor.

No doubt she had wanted to avoid being scolded, and furthermore, she hated the notion of hunching over next to the fireplace to drink alone. Even Lawrence avoided drinking alone—and it was warmer under the blankets, as well.

“…Where’s Col?”

“I know not…He tended the hearth for a while, but once the sun rose he went off with the shepherds and their staves.”

A shred of jerky hanging from her mouth shook as she spoke, and from its color, Lawrence was sure it was part of the meat Huskins had been drying the previous day.

But criticizing her would be more trouble that it was worth. He would simply have to hope that Huskins didn’t notice.

“So it’s sunny outside, eh…?”

The winter often kept people shut up indoors for one reason or another.

If it was fine out, there would be more people out, with the blooms of their conversation more lively.

“Aye. Just a moment ago the dogs were scampering about. And it seems as though a certain someone seems to be thinking me one of them.”

“Better than drinking wine first thing in the morning. Come, move aside. I’ve got to go out and see what’s afoot.”

He nudged Holo’s shoulder, but she seemed completely disinclined to move. He heaved a heavy sigh and crawled out of the bed.

While the sun had been up for some time, cold was cold.

He wanted to return to the bed where Holo continued to gnaw on her jerky, but such was the devil’s temptation. Lawrence opened the window wide.

That moment the sunlight reflecting off the snow stabbed into his eyes, rendering his vision temporarily ineffective.

“…Whew. Still, what a sight.”

“’Tis cold.”

“It might not be the same as when you looked out over the ocean, but the view does make me want to run about a bit. Look, even Col is over there playing with the sheepdogs.”

The barn was just beyond and downhill from the well, and beside it was none other than Col, around whom four sheepdogs jumped and frolicked.

Lawrence then realized his error with an “ah.” Holo could hardly play with the sheepdogs the way Col could.

He laughed soundlessly at this, which earned him a suspicious glare from Holo.

“He’ll return soon enough, with lips white from cold. You can tease him all you like then.”

“…”

She did not seem interested, but her wagging tail suggested she did not find the idea altogether displeasing.

When he went into the next room, he found that there was still charcoal in the hearth and then understood that Col had made it ready before going out. It went without saying that he had also fetched water.

As Lawrence poured the water over the crusty rye bread, he looked at the meat that had dried overnight; it was darker in color now. Stroking his beard, he decided there was no harm in putting the question to Holo.

“Want to come along?”

He was referring, of course, to gathering information about the wolf bones that they were pursuing at Holo’s request.

But Holo only flopped over on the bed, her tail swishing lazily to and fro.

“Enjoy your rest,” Lawrence said and closed the door.

He wondered, though, if the slight waver in his voice had given him away.

The area was full of merchants working with the Ruvik Alliance. In the process of searching for talk of the wolf bones, he would surely come across all sorts of other news.

He went outside, where the sun’s reflection off the snow made it brighter than the brightest summer day. Hiding his confident smile behind both hands, he began to walk.

“Assaj vermilion, arol woad, vud oak, rocatta saffron.”

“Rocatta saffron is fine indeed. I hear the Duke of Milone donned magnificent yellow robes at a banquet recently.”

“You mean the banquet that terrified even the Bishop of Mirah? Thanks to that, one of the noblemen who’s a regular of mine went on an ordering tear, and I wound up turning a serious profit.”

“Oh? Must be nice. If you’re looking for spices, I’ll have some coming in on the next boat. What do you say? They’re from all over…”

If all he had to go by were the conversations he could overhear from across the street, Lawrence would have wondered just where he was.

Given that merchants’ friends were also merchants, it was probably possible to buy any good from anywhere in the world just by following the connections of the merchants in this town. With such promise before him, how could Lawrence’s heart fail to beat faster in his chest?

Unlike them, he was a mere traveling merchant, and while he could not match them for knowledge of well-known, high-priced goods, when it came to the obscure specialties of small villages, he would not be outdone.

Perhaps he should go join that circle there? No, no—maybe this one here. Temptation assailed him.

But Lawrence finally swallowed this all down and arrived at a building.

Above its entrance hung a green banner with a moon and a shield on it, identifying it as an inn used by the Ruvik Alliance.

“You needn’t knock,” said one of a group of merchants, who were having an energetic conversation about blacksmiths.

Lawrence smiled faintly, at which not just the merchant who had spoken up, but the entire group tipped their hats and acknowledged him with a bow.

This place is a merchants’ paradise, Lawrence thought to himself and then pushed the door open.

“Excuse me—does Mr. Piasky happen to be in?”

“Hmm…Piasky? Oh, you mean Lag. He’s in the back, writing—that fellow there.”

“My thanks.” Lawrence nodded to the man, then headed for the corner of the room, the like of which could be found on the first floor of any trading house or inn for relaxation and recreation.

There were about twenty round tables in the room, around which merchants played cards, discussed maps, and weighed coins on scales.

Among them was Piasky, who was furiously writing something.

Lawrence hesitated to disturb him, but the veteran traveling merchant was perceptive enough to spot mercenaries two hilltops away.

He looked up and fixed his gaze on Lawrence and then immediately smiled.

“Good morning, Mr. Lawrence. Did you sleep well last night?”

“I did, thank you. Though I doubt I will enjoy the same experience tonight.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Piasky’s voice rose in a carefully interrogative tone, playing along with Lawrence’s leading statement.

What an amiable young man, Lawrence thought to himself before pointed up at his own eyes. “I believe this is the first time I’ve seen a traveling merchant wearing spectacles. I’m so jealous I may lose sleep over it.”

“Oh, these? Ha-ha-ha! Well, we’re in an abbey, the home of writing, after all. You can find cast-off spectacles quite easily here. These don’t belong to me, naturally.”

It was hard enough to make transparent glass, but a master craftsman could grind and polish it into a lens.

While glasses were expensive and rare, they were practically a necessity for the monks who had to transcribe finely ornamented letters with only candlelight to work by.

“So, what news, then? Oh, do please sit down.”

Lawrence noticed a slate on the table, upon which the names and quantities of a variety of goods were written in chalk. Piasky seemed to be making a list of goods to bring here on his next visit.

“A single merchant can keep a list of goods to trade in his head, but when you join an organization, you need proof of your orders.”

“So figures over memories. Still, in a company like that, your name won’t just be recorded in the Church’s burial register—you’ll live on in the memories of your comrades.”

“Quite so, quite so, God willing.” Piasky smiled and continued writing, dipping his quill in an ink pot. “You’ll have to excuse my writing. I assume you’re here to inquire about our merry progress?”

“…Is it all right to be talking about it so openly?”

“Ha-ha-ha, yes, it’s fine. I know everyone here. Outsiders are always carefully observed.”

Still smiling, Lawrence was not so foolish as to try looking around.

And likewise still smiling, Piasky directed a startlingly keen gaze at Lawrence. “Indeed, Deutchmann’s trust in you bought you a ticket in here, so worry not. For my part, in return for furnishing you information, I’m tempted to ask how exactly you earned that trust…but I suppose that’s a trade secret.”

Piasky’s smile was full of mischief.

Lawrence was careful not to let his guard down, but his own smile was a natural one. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“I quite understand. So, about the circumstances here, it feels as though we’re grinding our teeth before the walls of a fortress that should fall soon. But our jaw is getting tired, so we’re taking a bit of a break.”

“…They’ve been able to endure, despite all being pressed by such numbers?”

“We’ve tried to engage in standard negotiations any number of times. But never to any avail, so now I hear we’re trying to reach the head abbot, assistant head abbot, another head abbot of a sister abbey who was once powerful here, and even going all the way down to the head archivist, trying to win someone, anyone over. With this many merchants, surely one of them knows someone who’s close to one of them. And yet they’ve flatly rejected everything. The head abbot must be in a terrible position, and yet…it’s rather impressive.”

Rather than speaking derisively, Piasky sounded genuinely impressed.

No doubt from the perspective of someone within the organization, the fact that the abbey had continued to weather the Ruvik Alliance’s assault was nigh miraculous.

“So…Mr. Lawrence, just what is it you’ve come to ask me?” He smiled pleasantly.

Lawrence was a veteran of many exchanges with Holo, who was a genius at tricking people into revealing the truth. He was perfectly capable of dealing with this sort of attack.

In the end, he did not play dumb, instead glancing away momentarily. Boasting now wouldn’t accomplish anything, he decided, since this inn was flying the banner of the Ruvik Alliance.

Even if he were able to manipulate Piasky, it was much more likely he would be seen as a cheeky upstart rather than a canny merchant.

“Actually, it’s a bit embarrassing to say out in the open like this.”

“Most of the talk being exchanged here in these abbey grounds is too embarrassing to be heard. Please, speak your mind.” He was like a priest hearing a confession.

“You truly think so?”

“Quite. I’m also personally rather interested. I don’t have the sense you’ve come just to witness this sad state of affairs. I’d assume you’re here to meet someone, but then you sought out me, not a monk. I’m a merchant, and so I can’t help being as curious as a cat. When the curtain stirs, I want to peek behind it.”

Lawrence had met very few people who he thought it would be amusing to do business with. He suddenly wished their back-and-forth could continue forever, but this was the moment to strike and triumph.

He felt a twinge of regret as he faked a smile and spoke. “I was hoping we’d be able to view the holy relics.”

Piasky’s expression instantly changed. He stroked his face as though trying to recover from a mistake. “Apologies. Ah…excuse me. I suppose I still have much to learn. I surely didn’t expect that to be your answer.”

“Do you not doubt me?”

“Please don’t tease me. This is a branch of the great Brondel Abbey. If I were to be more surprised at the notion of you coming to view holy relics than I would be at you coming for profit, I’d only invite the anger of God.” Piasky smiled, looked at the tip of his quill pen, and seemed to notice that the ink had nearly dried. He dipped it again in the ink pot and continued his writing. “I truly imagined you’d come for another reason.”

“Other reason?”

“Yes. Ah, but now I understand. It makes sense. You don’t let your guard down easily, Mr. Lawrence. For you to have gone to the trouble of visiting Mr. Deutchmann first before coming here, your aim is having a look at the asset records we completed?”

This was what Lawrence had discussed with Holo at the port inn.

If the Ruvik Alliance had come to acquire the abbey’s landholdings, he was sure they would have done a thorough investigation of the abbey’s assets.

True, it was something he had concluded in hindsight, but there was no need to humiliate himself by admitting as much. So Lawrence neither shook his head nor nodded it, merely smiling.

“Given how famous the abbey is, it seemed likely to have many holy relics. Naturally we haven’t recorded them all, but…what sort of thing are you searching for? I may be able to help you.”

And here was the crux. Lawrence decided to hedge his bets with his answer. “Something connected to the golden sheep.”

“The golden sheep…”

When a clever merchant repeated words that had just been spoken to him, it was practically certain he was thinking things over. In the time it took to repeat those words, he might consider a hundred different things.

But even having bought a bit of time, Piasky said nothing further. Instead, he showed the same sort of smile that Col had whenever Holo teased him.

No doubt the surrounding merchants that were listening in were now inwardly disappointed at his performance.

“As far as relics passed down from saints go, I know something about several such items, but if it’s the golden sheep…”

“So, it’s nonsense, you’re saying.”

“Well, I couldn’t be so certain,” said Piasky, glancing at the merchants one table over.

The two of them seemed to be playing cards. Their ears pricked up, but they only shrugged in response.

“The tale of the golden sheep’s circulated through the abbey for centuries. Or in other words…”

“…That shows that in all those centuries, it’s never been found.”

“More or less, yes,” said Piasky. His expression was full of regret, probably because he was trying to avoid looking simply shocked that Lawrence would go to such lengths on a fool’s errand.

There was no need for Lawrence to bother trying to preserve his dignity now, but if his reputation suffered too badly here, it could become a hindrance to further information gathering.

There was a very fine line between being humble and being looked down upon—and to that end, Lawrence needed to make a course correction.

“Truthfully, before I came here, I was told by many people it was a foolish notion. But it seems people like me aren’t the only ones who get the notion to chase after their dreams—those who spend their days staring at ledgers sometimes feel likewise. Which is how I came to be introduced to Mr. Deutchmann.”

“…Meaning?”

“The person who introduced me to Mr. Deutchmann must have seen what I was chasing and thought it interesting. He couldn’t very well chase such a tale himself, so he sent me on in his place. The more established one is, the more generous one can be to eccentrics.”

The best way to confidently lie was to use truth as a base and leave plenty of room for interpretation.

The pair of men playing cards behind Piasky nodded, as though believing the tale.

While it might be seen as unreasonable to abandon chasing a living in exchange for chasing a mad dream, it was not so very rare among wealthy men.

“So that’s how it is,” said Piasky quietly.

“Ah, you’re thinking you’ve learned another way to ingratiate yourself to the rich.”

“No, in my case, I’m quite serious.” Piasky’s self-conscious smile was strangely reassuring.

Lawrence did not want his reputation to either fall too low or soar too high. With this, he was confident he had established himself as a harmless merchant who had simply come to the town with a slightly odd goal.

Thus he felt emboldened to take a step forward.

“So this is why I’d like to learn as much as possible about the golden sheep. Is there anyone in the area who would know more?”

Any merchant who ignored the whims of a rich man was no merchant at all.

The surrounding traders who had been listening in all gathered round, smiling secretly into their wine cups.

Lawrence asked not after the wolf bones but instead the golden sheep, as he knew that wolves and sheep were always companions.

If there existed a relic that related to the golden sheep, it would lead him to more knowledge about the wolf bones. At the very least, he would be able to catch their scent.

Or so he had thought, but ultimately he learned less than he expected to.

Worse, as befitted the sort of talk that happened with wine in one hand, when he finally returned to the inn room in the evening, his footing was rather unsteady.

Holo was sitting on the bed, grooming her tail, and before she could move out of the way, Lawrence collapsed onto it.

She wriggled out from under his arm as Col hurried to bring water.

“Well, you’re in a fine state,” Holo said as she finally extracted herself, prompting Lawrence to muse that she was the last person who should be saying as much.

He took the bowl of water that Col offered him and drank, still lying on his side. If he had not mastered such tricks, he never would have been able to get by in cheap, crowded inn rooms.

After drinking the bowl dry, he gave it back to Col.

If he closed his eyes now, he would fall asleep on the spot.

“So, how much were you able to learn?” Holo glared at Lawrence with narrowed eyes, pulling on his ear as she asked.

Had he been sober, he would have gotten angry, but given that he was currently using Holo’s fluffy, warm tail as a pillow, her anger was entirely understandable as well.

“Surely you can tell whether or not I enjoyed my wine…can’t you?”

“Aye. If you’d claimed to enjoy your drinking, I’d have bitten your ears off.”

“Had I known it would end this way, I would’ve brought you along…sadly, my lady the wisewolf had already taken to her drink.”

His wine-soaked mind could no longer exercise any sort of restraint. He spoke sarcastically in spite of himself, earning a slap to the face from Holo.

Honestly, it would have only made it harder to gather information had Holo been with him, and Holo was well aware of that, which was why she had not ventured to go along.

Holo’s hand made a sharp smack when it hit Lawrence’s cheek, after which she lightly pinched it. “Anything else you’d like to say, hmm?”

The stimulation was pleasant on his numbed face, and he closed his eyes and answered, “Just let me sleep.”

“Fool. Still, unlike you, I’m one who knows how to show her gratitude.”

Despite his rapidly fading consciousness, he could perceive the sensation of his cheek being stroked.

His very next memory was of opening his eyes not to the dim of twilight, but to the pitch-black of already fallen night.

He was unable to sit up in bed with any kind of speed. He was quite sure that he had fallen asleep in the precise position he had occupied when Holo stroked his cheek.

He did not have to move his head to know it was aching.

Closing his eyes briefly and regretting not at least assuming a more comfortable position before falling asleep, he slowly sat up.

His body felt like dry soil, and he was stiff and sore all over. The only saving grace was that he was still covered by a blanket.

No, not a blanket, he realized.

Having sat up, he noticed dark brown animal fur clinging to his clothing. Had Holo covered him with her tail the entire time? He brushed the fur free, and Holo’s sweet scent reached his nose.

“Ow—”

He straightened up, hand on his sleep-kinked neck. A faint stream of light made its way through the cracks in the room’s door, which slowly opened. Thanks to the liquor, even the light from the hearth hurt his eyes.

“You’re awake, are you?”

“…I think so.”

“Dinner’s still hot. Will you take some?”

“…Water.”

In place of a reply, Holo only shrugged and then fetched a pitcher.

“Where’s Col?”

“At the moment, he’s hearing a lecture from that shepherd on how to deal with snow. Our lad Col is quite the listener.” Faintly illuminated by the light through the door, Holo’s bold smile was rather terrifying. Col was such a good listener that he made it all too easy to prattle on proudly about all sorts of things, which seemed to be sitting even worse with Holo than Lawrence would have guessed.

She stood next to Lawrence, refusing to sit as she looked down at him, which corroborated his conclusion.

“I suppose I’ll have to ask someone to teach me the rules that apply when you’re angry with me.”

“Someone other than me?”

“You when you’re not angry. You’re a different person when you lose your temper.”

“Mm. This is only a temporary form, after all,” said the fierce wisewolf with a kind smile. “So, what of your results?”

They both knew perfectly well that the door was a thin one, so the conversation was low and whispered into the ear. It was not far from pillow talk, and Lawrence could not help but smile at the notion, still not quite free of the wine’s influence.

But the first reason for his smile was this: Even though Holo desperately wanted to know the results of his investigation, she had been considerate enough not to immediately grab him by the lapels and demand answers on the spot when he had come wobbling back.

Lawrence’s smile slowly shifted to a conciliatory one—if she was asking about results, he could only admit those had been meager.

“I heard nothing that will lead us to the truth.”

Holo’s expression shifted.

Lawrence wondered if she didn’t lose her temper because she knew that merchants were creatures who did not simply stay down when knocked over or because she had anticipated this outcome.

“…So?”

At Holo’s question, Lawrence’s mouth gave her its merchant’s answer. “As long as it’s not a private operation, there will definitely be records of purchases and assets. If what we’re looking for is here, there ought to be traces of it.”

Piasky’s writing in the commons was a good sign. Even if it was an item that needed to be hidden, it had to have been noted in writing somewhere. The merchants’ habit of writing everything down was what had led to the reversal of fortunes in Kerube.

“Hmm…” Holo sniffed her assent with a hand on her hip, looking hard at Lawrence. The moment he broke his gaze and looked down, the fur of her tail puffed up. “Did you think your misdirection would work on me?”

Even if he had been sober, Lawrence doubted he could have withstood the low, cold tone of her voice. He slowly raised both hands in surrender, trying to shift the blame of his glib merchant’s answer to the wine.

“I admit it. Until we can prove the bones don’t exist, I could simply pretend to be searching for them.”

And proving a negative was essentially impossible.

With her great beast ears, Holo listened, closing her eyes to hear all the more keenly.

There was something Lawrence had to say to her.

“I’m sorry…for making you endure this.”

In that moment, Holo’s shoulders froze in surprise. She looked like a child who had been caught doing something bad, and at the sight of this, Lawrence was so taken aback he ended up smiling.

“As a mere traveling merchant, all I can do is try to gather information in this roundabout manner. But you could—”

She could surely prove even the existence of the devil.

Wine had a way of loosening one’s inhibitions.

Normally Lawrence would have spoken more prudently, but his feverish head was letting his mouth run free.

Had Holo not covered that mouth with both hands, he most definitely would have continued to speak.

“…”

He had opened a box that should never have been opened, Holo’s expression said as her hands remained over his lips.

But there was not much force behind those hands.

Lawrence was still for a moment, but as Holo still had not said anything, he took her hands and slowly removed them.

“You learned as much from Kerube, didn’t you? If I thought to try to forcibly take something as valuable as a holy relic, that’s how it would turn out. It would be bad for me, but it would be just as bad for you.”

Holo’s hands were small, her fingers slender.

Given the great size of her true wolf form, this had to be a very inconvenient shape for her.

With those huge claws and fangs, she could easily take by force nearly anything she desired.

“You said it yourself back in Kerube. Your claws and fangs could set things right in an instant.”

The high walls of the abbey, its sturdy gates with heavy chains locked with an elaborately constructed lock—all of it would be smashed, their contents laid bare.

The abbey guards would pose no trouble at all. They had the authority to protect the abbey, but that meant nothing to Holo. She could scour the abbey and achieve her goal in the blink of an eye.

But the reason she did not do so was obvious.

“I can…” Holo opened her mouth. “If you wish to go far away, I can take you there on my back. If you desire something, I can hunt it down for you and bring it to you. If enemies attack you, I’ll drive them away, and if there’s something you wish to protect, I can come to your aid. But…”

She continued to hold onto Lawrence’s right hand, but she gently released it, then grasped it again with her own small hands.

“The only time I can do anything for you is when you’re in your human form.”

When Lawrence was in trouble, she could help him, but when she herself was in trouble, it would be faster for her to solve the problem on her own.

At first glance, this would seem to be an advantageous situation for Lawrence, but both Lawrence and Holo knew the truth. The relationship of a hen and her chick only worked if the hen was the hen and the chick the chick.

Now that they had a grasp of the whereabouts of Yoitsu, if Holo seized the wolf bones by her own power, Lawrence would have no further part to play.

Holo could solve everything on her own. Furthermore, doing so would be much more effective. Now that it had come to that, she was surely worrying about whether Lawrence would remain by her side.

Lawrence could not simply laugh it off and tell her she was worrying too much. A good business relationship only functioned when both parties benefited, and through her centuries spent in Pasloe, Holo had already experienced the breakdown that came when a relationship ceased to be mutually beneficial.

He pulled his right hand—which Holo had grasped—back toward himself and then put his left arm around her lower back. As he was still sitting, this put his face right up to her chest.

It was far from the case that he was not at all shy about this; it was in fact his shyness that propelled him.

Holo seemed a bit surprised, but evidently understood his intent and relaxed her body. She then placed her other hand on his head.

“I’m sorry. Just be patient a little longer, will you?”

Lawrence was in the wrong. He had to show her as much.

“…Mm.” Holo nodded slightly, the total opposite of her normal demeanor.

Her hand lay on his head as though she were a priest hearing the confession of a believer and forgiving his weakness. But somehow it seemed as though Holo was the one apologizing.

“Don’t apologize. If you do, all my effort will have been for nothing.”

Holo’s modest chest was not exactly something one could bury one’s face in, but perhaps that was for the best, he mused, once he had worked up the nerve to look at her.

Lawrence looked up and smiled, and Holo angrily pinched his cheek.

No doubt she was telling him not to underestimate her, although she certainly knew he had deliberately said that to make her angry.

After continuing to hold on to his cheeks for a while, she finally relaxed both her body and her expression and smiled a tired smile. “If we find they are indeed the bones of my pack mate, my patience may well be at an end.”

“And that is fine. I’ll have an important job once you’ve bared your fangs and run off.”

It was easy for him to imagine Holo’s frozen form as she stared at the bones of her comrade.

“You’re certainly a confident one.”

“As you’re so fond of saying, I’m a foolish male.”

Whenever Holo was truly happy, she would tuck her head down and smile almost ticklishly. That was all the motivation Lawrence needed to resolve to determine the truth of the wolf bones.

“Heh. If we speak like this too long, we may be suspected of mischief.”

Lawrence wondered if it would be too crude to ask what sort of mischief she meant. As he was mulling it over, Holo suddenly pulled away from him. But then she only smiled her malicious smile, as though having seen right through him.

There was no point in trying to keep up with her.

He evinced a chagrined smile, and Holo replied with a grin wide enough to bare her fangs. “I’ll bet dinner is still warm.”

Lawrence conceded and stood. “I could use a drink.”

“Aye, and help yourself,” came Holo’s enjoyably teasing reply.

Upon opening the thin wooden door, Lawrence counted himself lucky to see Col still listening earnestly to Huskins’s lecturing.