Spice and Wolf - Volume 10 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

A bit of wine still remained in Lawrence’s head, and he rolled it to and fro experimentally to make sure it wouldn’t fall off.

Feeling as though he would be a pathetic merchant indeed to be affected by liquor the next day, Lawrence lightly slapped his cheeks and told himself it was because of his shortage of sleep.

In any case, he had woken up and had not even as much time for early-morning dazedness as it would take for the flickering charcoal fire to brighten.

On top of that, this was neither an inn next to a busy town marketplace nor a mountain hut without a soul around. A certain amount of sound was audible from outside—the voices of humans and dogs and sheep—but they merely emphasized the room’s quietness and made an excellent lullaby.

The crackling firewood and the crumbling ashes were even better.

Lawrence yawned hugely and looked up with bleary eyes and saw that the drying meat there had hardened and darkened, and above a string of onions and garlic, he could see preserving yeast.

One could live without much coin after all. This room was a model for such a life.

Lawrence stirred up the fire in the hearth, yawning again.

“Good morning,” said Col, not yawning even a single time in the process.

The boy’s threadbare clothes and tousled hair were the very image of poverty, and his slender wrists and ankles belied the many dinners he had missed.

But his bright, clever eyes made it clear he was no beggar, but a wandering student. That strong, clear gaze was the single attribute that forever separated him from any pauper.

“It’s cold again today, isn’t it?”

“If it were truly cold, it would be nigh impossible to get out of bed.”

“Then I suppose it’s just cold enough to manage.”

There was a strange sense of camaraderie between those who relied on Holo’s tail for warmth. Since the first thing they did upon rising and gathering around the fire was to brush her fur off of themselves, it was only natural that a certain affinity would bloom.

“Is Holo still sleeping, then?”

“She was curled up into a ball, so I don’t think she’ll wake for a time.”

Lawrence only chuckled at this, then gave Col some bread and jerky and ate some himself.

“Once the morning church bells ring, we’ll go visit the alliance’s inn.”

“Er…shall I wake up Miss Holo, then?” Col looked thoughtfully out the window, no doubt calculating the angle of light with the calendar day to estimate the hour.

“No, no need. If she isn’t already up by then, we’ll leave her be.”

“…Might she not be angry?”

While his words were chosen and pronounced well, proof of his good education, he ate his bread the way a dog or cat would. He stuffed the entire piece in his mouth, not wasting a single crumb, and it was gone.

“She won’t. If she turns truly serious about wanting to discover whether or not the bones are there, she’ll find out right away.”

“Huh? Er…you mean…”

Col was naturally aware of Holo’s true form and power, so he would have long since realized that possibility. He probably refrained from mentioning it out of a sense of tact.

But after being momentarily taken aback by Lawrence’s comment, the expression he showed and words he spoke next were far outside of Lawrence’s expectations.

“She must trust us. We’ll have to do our very best.”

It was now Lawrence’s turn to be taken aback.

“Uh—er?” Col said, Lawrence’s surprise being enough to make him wonder if he had said something strange.

“Nothing,” Lawrence said with a wave of his hand, wiping his own face roughly with his other hand, as though trying to re-form clay.

The boy was far outside the ordinary.

“I was just wondering if I was that clever when I was your age.”

“Er…no, I didn’t mean…”

“Or maybe I’m just a fool?” The thought came to him unbidden, but the plain fact was that naturally gifted people did exist in the world. The important thing was not to be envious of them, but to work harder so as not to lose out to them. “Ah, well, I’ve already shown you how pathetic I can be, so it’s too late to worry about that.”

Lawrence brushed bread crumbs off of himself and stood.

Things were as they were. What he had to work out was not how to change his circumstances, but how to conduct himself within them.

“Mr. Lawrence.”

“Hmm?”

Col stood and took his coat in hand as he gave Lawrence a reproachful look. “I’m not at all confident that I’ll ever be able to be like you, Mr. Lawrence.”

This was probably the highest compliment a man of Lawrence’s age could be paid, but the simple truth was that Lawrence was still too young to accept it.

“That’d be a problem if you were my apprentice.” Lawrence tousled the boy’s hair and continued, “But when traveling, there’s no use in having two of the same kind of person. When you complement one another, though—that’s the best sort of traveling companion to have.”

It was the sort of line that would probably make Holo smile wryly beneath the covers, if she were awake. But Col’s face lit up as though he had received holy scripture, and he nodded energetically.

“I’ll do my best!”

“I’m counting on it,” Lawrence said, and just then the sound of the morning bell came through the window.

The two faced the direction of the sound and, after listening intently, took action.

Lawrence could see why Holo was so fond of Col. Seeing that for himself had a calming effect, he could tell.

Outside it was so bright it hurt the eyes.

“The first thing is to get a look at the list of holy relics. If it’s been accidentally listed there, then we’ll be in luck.”

“So I’ll play a student on pilgrimage, then?”

“And if anyone asks, tell them of your interest in church management. Did you learn anything about that at school?”

Beneath the eaves of the deserted shepherds’ dormitory, Lawrence put the question to Col as the boy wrapped his legs in cloth. The wrappings served to keep his feet warm, despite his still wearing straw sandals.

“We weren’t taught anything about money.”

“I see. Perfect, then.”

Col snuggled his wrappings up and looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. “I haven’t learned a thing, so if you could teach me, sir—”

“An excellent performance.” Lawrence patted Col’s head and started to walk.

The sky was clear and bright, and the ground was coated in such silvery snow that it reflected the sunlight painfully back up.

Merchants who detoured over the snowy mountains in winter to win some advantage over their competition would emerge darkly tanned; Lawrence now understood why.

Col emerged just behind Lawrence and narrowed his eyes at the brightness. “I hope we can find what we’re looking for on the lists.”

“That’s your job,” said Lawrence, which stunned Col for a moment.

“Huh?!” he replied with exaggerated surprise.

“Your knowledge of the Church is far greater than mine. The patron saints of the shepherds, the saints that were once pagan gods, the strange superstitions that surround wolves and sheep. Only you can tell them from one another.”

Col’s charming manners were not the only thing about him that Holo liked. She also respected his steadfast will.

“…Understood.” Despite his surprise, Col nodded solemnly.

Lawrence took on the tone of a teacher in response. “I’m counting on you.” Then, thrusting his chest out, he pushed open the door of the Ruvik Alliance’s inn.

“Hmm? Oh, welcome. It was a fine time we had last night.”

Opening the door, there were already several merchants there, idly conversing over their meal. One of them spoke up, jug in hand, as Lawrence opened the door.

He wondered if they had started drinking in the morning, but such activity wasn’t uncommon when one was held up in an inn because of snow.

“Good morning. I just wanted to find Piasky and thank him for last night’s feast.”

“If you’re looking for Lag, he’s in the sanctuary. Part of a regular negotiation. He’s quite a merchant for one so young.”

Given the man’s tone, it was clear that Piasky was no mere messenger. It was possible that once the Ruvik Alliance obtained the abbey’s land, they planned to immigrate and establish a town or marketplace there. It seemed unlikely that someone with the unusual job of aiding settlers would be relegated to a mere courier.

“The sanctuary, you say? Thank you very much.”

“Sure. Let’s drink again sometime. Bring your master along this time, eh?”

The man was referring to the fictional “master” Lawrence had made up in the course of his information gathering.

It was a bit coarse of the man to say so, but if he was willing to lay his own motives so bare, Lawrence could reply without worry. In actuality, it was always worse to be suspected than to have one’s plans fully known, since doubt and imagination could give rise to speculation that exceeded any reality.

“Shouldn’t they be holding a prayer service at the sanctuary now?” Col asked as they put the inn behind them.

“I doubt the abbey is able to refuse. Their position seems weaker than I’d have guessed.”

Illuminated by snow and sky, the church gleamed like a beautiful, polished gem. But the ones offering their prayers and praises to God were not within the sanctuary but outside it, which proved just how much the Church’s own authority was being trampled.

Outside the tightly shut doors was a group of devout merchants standing in prayer.

Just as Lawrence was wondering what to do, the sanctuary doors opened. There emerged a procession led by the high-ranking merchants and their attendants, followed by experienced-looking traders bearing parchments and sheaves of paper.

Piasky was at the head of that second group. He noticed Lawrence standing at the side of the road and stepped out of the procession to greet him.

“Good morning, Mr. Lawrence. Are you recovered from last night?”

“My companion’s something of a drinker, so I got quite an earful.”

“Ha-ha. Well, bring her along next time, eh?”

As they exchanged casual greetings, Lawrence briefly sized up Piasky’s position. He did not seem to be in a particularly low position.

“Mr. Piasky, do you have a moment?”

At Lawrence’s invitation, Piasky waved to his fellows and answered, “A bit, yes.”

What surprised Lawrence was not the fact that Piasky was willing to spare him some time—rather it seemed from Piasky’s words and bearing that he felt he was doing Lawrence a small favor.

If so, he would expect it to be returned.

Lawrence flashed his best merchant’s smile. “My thanks. Where shall we go?”

“I’ve work to do, so perhaps the library?”

“The library?”

“Ah, apologies. It’s that building there. There’s a theology scholar who acts as a sort of clerk on the first floor. Just give him my name.” Piasky indicated a stone building nestled behind another building by the street.

Its windows had wooden shutters rather than glass, and it did not give the impression that it was heavily used.

“I have to make a report, so if you’ll give me a bit of time…”

“Understood. I’ll see you at the library.”

After the two men made their excuses, Piasky headed off for the inn.

It wasn’t very long before a familiar figure slowly came walking up to Lawrence and Col—it was Holo.

“I daresay I’ll come along, as well,” came her soft voice from beneath her hood.

The marks of sleep were still clear on her face, so Lawrence had to wonder if she had been debating whether or not to accompany him in her dreams.

Of course, neither Lawrence nor Col pointed that fact out. They simply nodded.

Half an hour later, they made for the building Piasky had indicated, where they were indeed met by a bearded, stern-faced man who seemed to be a Church scholar, and once he had heard Piasky’s name, he led them into the library.

As one would expect from the term, it was filled with all sorts of things.

But strangely, most of the documents seemed as though they would have been of little use to merchants. There were maps, rough outlines of towns, lists of craft guilds, and even family trees of noble houses.

Piasky seemed to have been given an office here, to which Lawrence and his companions were led, passing through a deserted document room.

When the door to his office was opened, it looked much the same as the rest of the library.

“My apologies for interrupting you while you’re so busy.”

“Not at all. My comrades were so rude last night, after all—not that this is an apology.”

Perhaps this explained why Piasky had seemed as though he was doing Lawrence a favor.

“Not at all. I learned all sorts of useful things, so I should be thanking you. Of course—” Lawrence continued jokingly, “that does make it harder for me to ask another favor of you.”

Ledgers would always be adjusted so the balance came to zero.

However, it was also true that a small loss could become a huge gain.

“Ha-ha-ha. Well, if it’s a difficult favor, I may have to ask for some compensation. What could it be, I wonder? If it’s something I can easily arrange, just name it.”

“Honestly, it’s what you were speaking of last night. I was hoping you could arrange for me to have a look at the list of holy relics within Brondel Abbey.”

“Oh, that? I was sure it would be something else. Well, I wasn’t lying, here—look,” said Piasky, picking up a stack of parchment from atop the stacks on his desk and handing it to Lawrence.

There upon it was indeed written a list of holy relics.

“I thought you might want to have a look at it, so I made it ready for you.”

Lawrence flipped through a few pages, then looked up with gratitude. “My deepest thanks to you. If someone like me were to knock upon the doors of the abbey myself, I’m quite sure I’d be turned away at once.”

“Not at all. I’m sure you’ve guessed as much, given how easily I handed it over to you, but there’s nothing of use there. Nearly everything written on it is worthless. You’ll smile to see it, I’m sure,” said Piasky, as though he were recommending a particularly tasty wine.

As Lawrence started to scan the parchment, he understood that Piasky was quite right. Even not knowing their exact market value, each entry in the long list of items was a famous relic that would have taken a truly unbelievable sum to purchase.

But famous relics were not necessarily famous for their miraculous properties.

Sometimes they were famous because you could see versions of them all over the countryside.

“I expect most of them were bought as part of bribes. They were bought from noblemen or royalty, despite being obvious fakes, as a way to give money without losing reputation. The noose Saint Emela used to hang herself when she was martyred is a perfect example. If you tied together all the ropes supposed to be her noose, they say it would be too long to stop her feet from touching the ground, even if she’d found the highest tree in the world.”

There was also the supposed right eye of a great sage that was said to be able to see into the future—and Lawrence knew of four churches that purported to house this mighty eye.

It was no more rare than finding a craftsman who claimed to make spears that could pierce anything with a shop next door to an armorer who claimed his armor could turn aside any blade. Such things were common the world over.

“But you may not find what you seek there, Mr. Lawrence. The golden sheep is a thing of legend, and it hasn’t left so much as a single concrete artifact behind. As far as tales go, there’s the story of the soldier who tried to pluck a piece of its golden wool, but…”

“No, chasing what we’re after is like trying to catch a cloud, so it’s nothing like that. But while a cloud might be impossible to grasp, its presence in the sky is still a fact. Essentially—”

“—You’re looking for the evidence.”

“Precisely. If there’s a patron saint revered by shepherds or something connected to them, it might serve as proof that the abbey is aware of the golden sheep. Thus, the golden sheep could be supposed to exist.”

Lawrence knew the reasoning was somewhat forced, but occasionally such pronouncements were necessary for persuading a customer. Piasky, whose job it was to lead settlers to a notional promised land that was little more than simple wilderness, seemed familiar with the concept.

He nodded significantly and then smiled a wry smile.

“Still, as you said, there seems to be little of interest here.” Lawrence looked the list over quickly and then handed it to Col and Holo. Both of them had waited patiently as they were well aware of the roles they were playing.

Piasky glanced at them and then spoke to Lawrence. “I’m sorry it wasn’t any use to you…though I suppose it’s strange for me to be apologizing.”

Lawrence couldn’t help but laugh at Piasky’s joke.

“We looked over that list countless times,” Piasky continued. “You can find the items on it all over the land. A few of them could be sold off straightaway for a good price, but…to be honest, I have my own reason for showing you the list.”

“You do?” asked Lawrence, which Piasky smiled regretfully at.

“Yes. I was wondering if there’s something there that hides a deeper purpose.”

At Piasky’s words, Lawrence looked again at the parchment his two companions were examining carefully. It seemed to be nothing more than a list of the kinds of trinkets any wealthy abbey or church would contain. He didn’t feel any particular significance to any of them, nor any special connection to the land. It seemed like nothing more than a peek at how wealthy people wasted their money.

He understood what Piasky meant, though.

Piasky wanted to know if any of the items had been bought not simply out of a sense of pride, but rather out of a true sense of purpose or belief.

His motive for doing so was not difficult to understand. The abbey was steadfastly refusing the Ruvik Alliance’s efforts, so Piasky was looking for a chance to break that resistance.

Understanding the opponent’s desire was the key to negotiation.

“Just earlier I was in the sanctuary, conducting standard negotiation. The abbey’s solidarity was admirable as always—even as their finances are tight, and they beg the royal merchants for funds to conduct the spring thanksgiving festival.”

“Their finances are that poor?”

In answer to Lawrence’s question, Piasky nodded and sighed. “Daily living expenses, building upkeep, candles for prayer, parchments for manuscript copying, paper, book purchases, shepherds’ pay, livestock feed over the winter…and those are just the basics. On top of that, since they’re an important abbey, there’s the exorbitant cost of the bishops’ meetings they must host every few years, the costs of welcoming important guests, the maintenance of their sister abbey, and the huge tribute they owe the pope in the south. What’s more, the king views them as a convenient source of coin in exchange for overlooking their possession of such power and influence. Given all this, their fall cannot be far off.”

Even an abbey could not completely sever itself from the outside world, and those connections meant it was impossible to avoid accommodating the world’s ways.

And their predicament was worse than Lawrence had guessed.

“They’ve amassed a huge fortune thanks to their wool sales, so they’ve plenty of men able to figure profit and loss. And I’m sure there are some among them who would like to reach a realistic compromise. But still, the council remains united in its rejection of the alliance’s requests.”

“And you believe that solidarity is because of some peculiar conviction?”

Without support of some kind, they wouldn’t have been able to continue resisting—particularly if their group contained more than one opinion. If they had united in defense of God’s glory, Lawrence doubted Piasky would have expressed such doubts.

While it contained men who loved money, the abbey also had those whose prayers were genuine. And yet obtaining a decision was proving impossible, much to the frustration of the alliance.

“Heavy investment in a holy relic would fit the circumstances. The devout among them would accept it, and if it could be turned to profit, it would be the perfect support during this difficult time. So if we can simply find what they’re clinging to and take it from them, I believe they will crumble.”

It was a very direct strategy.

But when Lawrence looked at Holo and Col, he saw a glimmer of an idea deep in the pair’s eyes, despite their appearing to find nothing of interest on the parchment.

The story of the wolf bones—if it were more than a simple tale spoken of during drunken tavern conversations, it would fit Piasky’s theory perfectly.

“I believe it’s a good idea…and the idea that with so many fakes in the world no one would possibly put their faith in a relic would serve as good cover.”

“Indeed…you’re quite right.”

Lawrence said nothing about the wolf bones because, given the circumstances, doing so would only weaken his position. His opponent was the Ruvik Alliance, to whose power the port town of Kerube could hardly compare.

If he slipped up and got involved with them, it was unlikely he would escape unscathed.

Col and Holo, too, seemed to understand this.

He looked down at the parchment again.

“To tell the truth, after your visit last night, Mr. Lawrence, I was so excited I could hardly sleep.” Sitting in his chair, Piasky smiled a self-deprecating smile. It was as though he was finally showing the exhaustion he’d been hiding all along.

Piasky’s words a moment earlier—“We looked over that list countless times”—came to Lawrence’s mind, albeit with a slightly different meaning this time. He imagined Piasky up late at night, poring over the paragraphs by candlelight.

“Any clues that would break this deadlock would be more precious than any gospel to us. I can’t describe to you the sense of futility I felt after checking over that parchment again and again. And yet I thought perhaps…perhaps you or your companions might be able to help. Hence my ulterior motive in showing it to you.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be of any use.”

Piasky and Lawrence both laughed at these words.

A baker might sell bread at his shop’s counter from birth till death, but merchants spent their lives swinging between extremes of hope and disappointment—yet undaunted always tended toward hope.

But something bothered Lawrence, so he asked about it. “This is a rather boorish question, but…”

“Yes?”

“If the alliance is really able to buy the abbey’s land, will it be so profitable?”

The Ruvik Alliance had not been formed to pursue the meager profits of a small-town trading company.

They commanded trading vessels and warships, and if a town was imposing tariffs to protect their own merchants, the alliance could use sheer force of arms to open that town’s gates.

Lawrence had heard of many transactions the alliance had conducted, each one so large as to make one wonder if there could really be so much money in the world.

For so many merchants to be coming here attached to such an alliance meant that the potential profit had to be vast. And yet it was impossible for a traveling merchant like Lawrence to concretely imagine such profit.

Just how would it be realized?

Piasky smiled a bit bashfully and scratched his nose with a finger. “I myself can’t imagine the exact number of coins. But one thing I can say, it would profit many, many people.”

Unable to imagine it, Lawrence repeated Piasky’s words. “Many people?”

It was true that the alliance contained many people, so that was true as far as it went, but it still seemed like a strange choice of words.

“Indeed. I assume you are aware of the general idea of what we’re trying to do here, yes?”

“You’re trying to purchase the stricken abbey’s landholdings, then use that to bring around the nobility, allowing you to participate in kingdom politics.”

“Exactly so. However, if we simply handed the purchased land over to the nobility, they’d just squander it—on daily extravagances or on lavish donations to churches or abbeys, either for appearances or out of a sense of piety. Or in the long run, it would simply be divided into smaller and smaller pieces over the generations until they fell into ruin. Neither they nor we profit that way. So to avoid that, people like me have been summoned.”

Piasky spoke in an even, patient tone. It was not because he was used to talking about this, nor because he was used to explaining things, nor even owing to his natural inclinations.

It was simple confidence—the singular calm that comes when one has pride in one’s work.

Holo noticed this and looked up.

Lawrence finally understood why he had been fixated on Piasky. Piasky had the firm footing of the peerless master craftsman, and Lawrence could not help but feel nervous around him.

“We plan to take ownership of the abbey, buying up its unused lands and allowing people to immigrate there. We’re going to make villages and towns.”

Lawrence considered the piles of documents in Piasky’s office and the room adjacent to it. This place was essentially an atelier for people like him.

“Since the abbey’s left the land fallow, most of the landed gentry haven’t been able to bring in adequate earnings or even provide farmers with enough land to live on. On the mainland, war, famine, or floods have driven countless people from their homes. With no work or money, they have no choice but to either beg or steal. The more such people there are, the greater the threat to stability.”

“So your alliance is going to lead such people to a new land, giving them a place to live and work, while at the same time putting in your debt the landlords whose holdings are plagued with vagrants.”

“Yes. It will improve the situation for both sides. And it’s not simply about money. It may sound arrogant of me to say so, but when you’ve experienced giving a new home to someone who’s lost theirs…”

Insincerity and charity were a hair’s breadth apart. The smile of one who understood that truth was a pleasantly wry one.

“…You can’t stop. It’s enough to make you pore over a parchment, looking for the tiniest hint or clue.”

Holo’s hand had stilled, and she listened intently to Piasky. Lawrence could hardly blame her.

Holo had claimed not to care about Piasky’s work, but if she were really so myopic, then all her laments over the course of their travels had been lies.

Beneath the parchment, Col grasped Holo’s hand steadfastly.

“Some immigrants were scattered from their homes when pirates razed their village. Stolen from their families, they thought they would never see their loved ones again—but upon hearing of the immigration, they journey to the new village and are reunited. That’s why I cannot stop. Such things do happen.”

In fact, they happened regularly and were not at all uncommon.

In his travels, Lawrence was often asked by people in towns if he had seen so-and-so or whether such-and-such village still existed after a war in the area. Sometimes he would even encounter former slaves who had been taken from their far-off homelands before finally saving enough money to buy their freedom. When they asked for news of their hometown, it was so far away that Lawrence could scarcely believe it.

And such stories were not limited to humans.

Holo, too, was one such wanderer; in that moment her face looked like a statue, and if Lawrence had touched her cheek, he was quite sure that tears would have flowed freely.

“Because it involves so many people, there’s naturally profit to be had. Anybody affiliated with the alliance is treated well when they arrive in towns the alliance founded. But it’s not just that. Anyone who’s traveled about doing business is especially sensitive to the word homeland. There’s a sentimental reason we’ve fixed so stubbornly upon the abbey. If it were just for ourselves, we could hardly persevere so mightily. It’s because we wish to help others.”

These last words rang almost painfully true to Lawrence.

It was because of Holo that he had been able to come this far.

“Ha-ha—I’ve bored you with my blathering.”

“Not at all,” said Lawrence in response to Piasky’s self-deprecating smile. “Not at all. I understand. I’m the same way.”

The instant Lawrence said as much, Piasky seemed to grasp why he was traveling in this queer little trio of his. Piasky looked at Holo and Col in turn, both of whom smiled sheepishly back.

Piasky nodded, speaking slowly. “If you don’t mind my asking, might I inquire as to your homeland?”

“They’re both from the north. On the mainland. From different places, though.”

Piasky neither widened his eyes in surprise nor made any expression of sympathy. Instead, he asked a sincere question, one merchant to another.

“And you’re after the treasures of your home, then?”

With war came plunder, and the Church’s suppression of the pagans was no different from any other war. There were no small number of pagan items that once taken came to be highly valued as holy relics. Indeed, it was owing to the high probability of recovering such plunder that the Church kept sending forces in to quell the pagans.

“Essentially, yes. They’re searching for traces of their homelands, and I need their knowledge. It’s something of a miracle that I encountered them at all.”

“I see…So, you found a patron to fund your investigation, and the two of them found a guide. Fate certainly is a mysterious thing.”

“Though it’s hard to know whether I should thank the heavens for it or not.”

Piasky forced a grin at the joke, which at the very least was hardly suitable for an abbey. Such forbidden humor was all the more amusing for its inappropriateness.

“My apologies. Still…if that’s the case, I won’t hesitate to help you. Please, feel free to ask anything of me.”

“Showing us what you have is already more than enough. My thanks to you.”

Piasky wasn’t being so accommodating simply because he was an excellent merchant. It was because, Lawrence was sure, he was a genuinely kind person.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” said Piasky, as though he couldn’t help expressing the sentiment.

It was clear to Lawrence that Piasky had his current job not out of love of profit, nor even out of a desire to be thanked by others.

Though it pained him to admit it, Lawrence was no match for the man. And he realized that Holo had noticed this the moment she met him.

What if she’d met him first?

Lawrence was not confident enough in himself to stop the thought.

There was a knock at the door, and when Piasky opened it, it appeared to be a messenger from the alliance. While Lawrence didn’t intend to listen in, the conversation came to his ears nonetheless—it seemed Piasky was being summoned.

Piasky gave the messenger his reply and then turned around. “You’ll have to excuse me. It seems I’m being called.”

As far as the alliance’s reasons for coming to the abbey went, this building held the most significant of them. Lawrence and his companions could hardly remain there without Piasky to accompany them.

Lawrence carefully took the parchment from Holo and Col and then returned it to Piasky with a bow. “You’ve been a great help to us.”

“Not at all. This is the least I can do, and I’ll happily do it again.”

Simply seeing his guileless smile was worthwhile.

Lawrence, Holo, and Col filed out of the room, followed by Piasky, who locked the door. It was a strange feeling, knowing that in this place the future homes of many people were being planned. Holo’s vaguely dreamy expression was surely due to the same sentiment.

“We’ll be going, then.” Lawrence and company took their leave from Piasky, who immediately headed for the green-bannered inn while they walked in the opposite direction.

The weather was pleasant, and looking up at the sky, it was easy to forget that the ground was still covered with snow.

The trio was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

But just before Lawrence was about to break that silence, Holo stopped in her tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Lawrence and Col stopped and turned after walking a few seconds more.

Holo looked down, her hood hiding her facial expression. It was clear enough from the slump of her slim shoulders that she was not feeling well.

“You go on ahead. I wish to walk a while.”

Her mouth appeared to smile, but how many times had Lawrence wished that she would save her smiles only for those times when she felt genuine happiness?

Col seemed nearly unable to restrain himself from going to her side, but Lawrence held him back.

“Just mind you don’t catch cold. Taking ill here comes with plenty of prayer.”

“Fool.” Despite the terse response, a large puff of white vapor came from Holo’s mouth. Then, just like that, she turned on her heel and walked off.

Col clutched at his chest as he watched her recede, then looked up at Lawrence. It was not as though he failed to understand why she would be acting this way, though.

Just as a picture was worth a thousand words, there was a great difference between hearing a sort of work existed and seeing the reality of it. So the impact of hearing that Piasky’s work was the creation of new towns and new homes and actually seeing the place where such work took place was likewise different.

And Piasky was a good person to boot. He acted not out of love of money, but neither was he naturally selfless.

Midway through her walk, Holo broke into a trot, then rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight, which made Lawrence’s heart ache.

Holo might well have been wondering the same thing he was—what if she’d met Piasky first.

“Should I have gone after her?” Lawrence breathed in the cold air and then exhaled hotly.

Though they stood in the middle of the street, they did not stand out, owing to the many other merchants standing and conversing in the area.

Lawrence took another breath and started walking.

“I don’t know what would be best. But I think Miss Holo would have been happy.”

It was an exemplary answer, and Lawrence found himself wanting to pat Col on the head for it. But exemplary answers were not always correct.

“Even though my own homeland still exists?”

Col took a sharp breath and stopped. Lawrence did not stop, however, and Col soon caught up with him.

“Sometimes God seems fit to comfort us, though he lives in the heavens free of aging or sickness.”

If Holo was a genius of banter, Col was an expert in persuasion. Since his own feelings were unwavering, his words always rang true. And thanks to his studies of Church law, he could easily quote scripture to his advantage.

But Lawrence was an ever-wandering traveling merchant who lied even to himself, and he could not accept such straightforward reasoning.

“I’m sorry. If there’s one thing I know all too well, it’s my own lack of courage. I’m afraid that if I go to her side, I’ll be rejected.”

“I doubt that.”

Lawrence stopped and noticed that Col was even a bit shorter than Holo. The height difference was enough to make him look imposing to Col, no doubt, whether he was trying to or not.

Lawrence’s expression was hard, but not because of Col’s cheekiness, nor thanks to the cold. He started walking again and waited the few seconds it took for the hesitant Col to catch up before speaking.

“But it’s not as though I think so little of her. I don’t think she’s sad or lonely so much as I imagine her heart’s been disturbed a bit. She’s only ever wondered whether her homeland still exists or not—the idea of making a new one has never occurred to her. So I want to believe she’s uncertain how to manage the feelings she’s having now.”

They arrived at the shepherds’ dormitory, and Lawrence put his hand to the thin door’s handle. They both entered, and he continued.

“I can hardly be involved in all of Holo’s affairs, nor can I hope to solve all the problems she faces. The only thing I can do is dedicate myself to doing for her what I can.”

As Holo would want. In the best ways he knew how.

He added some straw to the dying fire in the hearth; it quickly caught fire, sending sparks dancing up.

“I’m sure you and she noticed the mention of the wolf bones.”

“…You mean the clue Mr. Piasky is searching for?

“Yes. Just as we saw in Kerube, all holy relics are highly valued, and depending on how they’re used, they can help support a faith—like trying to catch the golden sheep, thinking it was sent by God. You could say that’s exactly the sort of thing Piasky’s looking for.”

If the abbey had indeed purchased the bones, even knowing they were from a pagan god, it was hard to imagine anything that would more thoroughly prove the depth of their conviction. It would unite the abbey council, saving the abbey as a whole both practically and religiously.

But it was an ironic truth that the cleverer a conclusion was, the easier it was to poke holes in it.

A lie was always harder to expose when it was simple.

Lawrence had abstained from giving Piasky any information because he did not feel it was a decision he should be making alone.

“Mr. Lawrence, why…Back then, why didn’t you…?”

Holo had most likely noticed Lawrence’s caution at the time, and even Col had probably understood most of it. After all, he had only to think back to what happened in the port town of Kerube.

“Because this information would be enough for them to make an important decision on. It’s quite obvious how much we could have distanced ourselves from them, in that moment—and the alliance, too, hardly wishes to base its actions on hearsay from people it knows nothing about. Once they’d gotten assurances from me, I could end up being forced to take responsibility for any failure or bearing the brunt of the attack in case it came to a head-on confrontation with the abbey.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t have been able to stay uninvolved?”

“Yes. Their power is too great. If we tell them what we know, and they consider it worthy, it would overturn not just the list of holy relics, but all the investigation they’ve done on the abbey’s dealings and holdings. And if the bones truly do exist, then they’ll surely find evidence of them soon. That’s the sort of people we’re dealing with. And here in the snowy plains, none will come to our aid.”

At least in Kerube there were many people around. But here, even the name of the Rowen Trade Guild was weak.

“It’s true that we could take the risk and escape on Holo’s back if things turn dangerous, but if we’re going to do that, Holo may as well have bared her fangs right from the start. But she would like to avoid doing so as much as possible. In addition to her conscientiousness, she tends to worry.”

“…”

Holo often spoke to Lawrence in a complicated, roundabout fashion, rarely explaining her true feelings, which made misunderstandings inevitable—but she seemed to be clearer when speaking with Col.

Since Col seemed to understand what Lawrence was getting at, despite his condensed explanation, the boy’s conjecture was probably accurate. Not just accurate, in fact—given his pained expression, there was a good possibility he’d heard Holo’s true feelings.

If so, he was probably wondering how two supposed adults could act so childishly. Holo surely would have laughed if such a candid question had been put to her.

Why not simply be honest?

“So as long as she wishes it, I’ll continue to take risks. It’s the least I can do.” He paused and watched the burning straw turn to ash, smoke wafting lazily up.

It felt as though he were looking at his own self, pretentious though such a notion was.

“You said earlier that I could still be of comfort to Holo, even though my own homeland still exists.”

“Y-yes!”

“I still find that hard to imagine. And what if she asks me to create a new home for her? That would put me in a difficult situation. And yet…”

The right corner of Lawrence’s lip curled up of its own volition for the very same reason that he was willing to take such great risks for Holo.

“And yet I can’t bear to see her ask such things of anyone else.”

He could never admit as much in front of Holo, but it was the unvarnished truth.

Col’s face was frozen in place unsurprisingly. He surely did not want to hear such a painfully embarrassing statement from an adult.

But Lawrence felt a strange sense of exhilaration and a certain pride, and he thrust his chest out and continued jokingly, “So I suppose I’ll just have to find another way to entice her, eh? Something that’ll make her forget all about Piasky and his work.”

It was a calculating, self-serving way to think, but it was clearly drawn from a different place than his former inclination to labor mightily for every single silver piece.

Back then, not even giving his confession in a church would leave his heart feeling clean. Indeed, it would only become part of his calculations—now I’ll be all right for a while.

Of course, this was all solely about Lawrence, and his listening audience undoubtedly found it unbearable.

But Col was a bit better behaved, simply turning away as though overcoming his embarrassment.

“But of course, I can’t tell her that, and quite honestly you have the worst of it, being subjected to our back-and-forth as much as you are.”

At these words Col finally looked up and seemed about to say something. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but in the end simply looked down again.

Lawrence found this odd. “What’s the matter?”

Col’s shoulders flinched. Though he so often gave honest answers, this time he simply looked away. And then, like that, he spoke in a very small voice. “I’m…sorry.”

“For what? What possible reason could you have to apologize?”

Something in the hearth gave way with a small sound, and a puff of ashes floated up.

Perhaps that had been the sound of some epiphany flashing through the boy’s mind or perhaps it was simply the sound of his face freezing in place.

Col shrank into himself, a look of extreme contrition on his face.

It was done.

Lawrence covered his face with his hand, his shoulders sagging.

He was now quite certain she’d heard everything.

At some point during their time in Piasky’s office, Holo had given Col secret instructions, and he’d cooperated in letting her see what his reaction would be once she said she wanted to be alone.

Every word he had uttered came back to him. But for his last shred of pride’s sake, he decided not to run.

He stood and patted the terrified Col’s head lightly, then walked past him and toward the door.

The thin wood of the door was no great barrier to sound—not that it would matter either way to Holo, who stood unapologetically on the other side of the door.

“’Tis rather impressive that you don’t think of me as some weakly sobbing female, but honestly, ’twas unbearable hearing such embarrassing things.” Holo smiled maliciously.

Her cheeky grin made him want to debate and browbeat her until she cried out for mercy. How many times had this face gotten the better of him?

And Lawrence found himself infuriated each time it happened, as Holo’s japes were always constructed to emphasize his own stupidity.

“So you don’t wish to see me entreat another for help?” she said. “You’re simply too adorable for…You—”

Her fangs flashed as she spoke, and she extended her index finger to poke Lawrence in the chest, but then—

“…! Nngh…!”

While it is true that anger kept bottled up will finally burst free, in this case it was more like a cornered rat biting the cat that hunted it.

At first Holo was surprised and shrank away, but she soon regained her composure and started to struggle, trying to escape despite her obvious concern for Col’s reaction.

But as long as she remained in this form, the difference between her strength and Lawrence’s was obvious.

Some indeterminate amount of time passed before Lawrence let her hand go—and the instant he did, Holo took a deep breath and slapped him across his cheek good and hard, so it must have been quite a while.

Lawrence staggered, musing that he really was no match for her—but it was not the quickness of her hand that made him think so.

Despite having slapped him, Holo’s face was not colored with anger. Far from it, her expression was kind; she even smiled faintly.

“That makes us even.”

Just which one of you was it that set this up? Had her smile not been genuine, he was quite certain he would have wanted to put that question to her. But no matter how much he wanted to object, the words wouldn’t come—because her smile was real.

“That makes us even.”

“…It does,” he answered, which Holo gave a satisfied nod at and pushed past him into the room.

“Col, boy, for a duty well executed, you shall have your reward,” she said, pressing her cheek to the cheek of the astonished Col and gently stroking his head.

Lawrence saw Col’s face go red and mused that he was still a child—but if he let the sentiment show on his face, there was no telling what trap Holo might have prepared for him.

He closed the door and returned to the hearth.

Holo embraced Col from behind and gazed at the fire as she spoke. “I’m thinking to leave today or perhaps tomorrow.”

“Wha—?” Col exclaimed, starting to look behind him. But as Holo’s face was right there, he seemed to think better of it.

Holo smiled and continued, “With both of you, of course. We’ll return to that port town—Yiku or whatever it was—and find some tasty food, drink our fill of wine, and sleep. The two of you should get some rest since it’ll take three days in the snow to make our way back.”

Col seemed to think this was a strange way for her to be speaking. His face betrayed his confusion, but Lawrence didn’t find it odd at all.

He had more or less anticipated this, and if it was what Holo wanted to do, he did not mind.

“You’ll sleep till midday thanks to the wine. And when you awake, the three of us will come together and eat as we leisurely discuss whether or not to cross back over the sea. After all…” Holo coughed to hide her chuckling, then wiped the corner of her mouth before continuing, “If something had happened the previous night at some far-off abbey—a great wolf attacking, say—you wouldn’t know the first thing about it. And surely no one would think to connect you to such an event. You’d have been having a quiet, peaceful time, with no risk or danger at all.”

When she finished speaking, Holo looked at Lawrence. “How about it?” said the expression on her face, which looked ready to break into a smile at any moment.

Holo had decided she could not let Lawrence put himself in danger for her. Yet she was not prepared to retreat empty-handed.

So she had chosen the most practical, easiest method—that was all.

“If that’s what you want, then I don’t mind. I’ve already said as much, after all.”

“Aye. And I’ve made quite sure of your feelings. To doubt them now would make me the fool.”

If her smile had been a bashful one, it would have been quite charming, but Holo’s face was as full of mischief as ever. But of course, that was why she was Holo.

A meek Holo would be like jerky without salt.

“I am Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. When humans see me, they fear and serve me. But if I were afraid myself, what sort of fool would I be?”

She would employ the power of her true form. But even when she did to protect those she cared for, the people she protected might yet look upon her with fear. How much more fearful might they be when she transformed to accomplish her own purposes?

Lawrence certainly understood Holo’s fears, but he still wanted her to show some faith in him.

“We can’t leave today. Tomorrow or the day after perhaps.”

“What say you, Col, my lad?” She asked either out of mischief or an effort to hide her own embarrassment.

It seemed that Col was stunned to have his opinion asked; after he got over his surprise, he hastily agreed.

“Well, then, that decides it. This means you’ll end up hearing nothing that might profit you, though I’m not inclined to apologize for that,” she said, resting her chin on Col’s shoulder, which did not make Lawrence feel like taking her terribly seriously.

Depending on how they were used, the wolf bones could potentially bring Lawrence great profits, but misfortune tended to follow those who tried to gain more coin than their coin purses could hold.

A coin purse was like a stomach—gluttony could make it burst, and death would follow.

“If you’re feeling sorry, then why not try an apology?”

Her jape repaid with another jape, Holo grinned. “Kindly forgive me, then.”

Lawrence laughed at the absurdity of it and then sighed, surrendering to the peaceful camaraderie.

At the same time, he let slip a few more words. “I suppose this isn’t so bad once in a while.”

It was a fine, clear afternoon.

There was no more need for a fire in the hearth.