Spice and Wolf - Volume 14 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Their old blankets resembled nothing so much as tree bark, so they were replaced with fluffy new ones—likewise overcoats, mufflers, hats, and gloves. Next came the food: Wheat bread topped the list, with salted meat and fish, various vegetables, along with medicinal herbs. And of course wine: the finest grape wine that could be had.

As Hugues busied himself with loading their wagon, he weathered Lawrence’s constant thanks with a bulwark of tired laughter.

Five days had passed since the events surrounding Fran, the traveling artist and silversmith. Fran had been badly wounded in all the commotion, and it had been only the previous day that a life-threatening fever brought on by her wounds had finally broken.

The promised map had yet to be drawn, but as soon as Fran regained consciousness and opened her eyes, she had summoned Lawrence to her room to discuss the matter. Hurrying her any further would have been a betrayal of trust.

But that did not mean they could afford to tarry, and at Fran’s suggestion, Lawrence and Holo would set out again, rather than waiting for the map to be completed.

With their eyes on Yoitsu, they would return temporarily to Lenos. It would be a convenient place to leave the wagon Lawrence had done so much business with, and more important, it was situated at a convenient entry point into the true northlands.

They ought to have arrived by boat, but unfortunately no such option existed for their return. So it was that Lawrence found himself borrowing a wagon from Hugues. He had thought to carry something to Lenos on Hugues’s behalf to offset this favor, but Lawrence seemed to be the only one concerned with such trivialities.

Merchants were largely a duty-bound group, and some of them took this far beyond profit and loss calculations. Hugues seemed to be the epitome of such folk and, despite Lawrence’s refusals, loaded one expensive piece of travel supply after another into the wagon. Lawrence did not feel free to suggest that he would pay for the use of the wagon, even as a joke. Holo was overjoyed, but from Lawrence’s perspective, the generosity was something of a burden.

All debts had to be repaid, after all.

It was fine while one was borrowing, but thinking about what would come after made him depressed, frankly.

“Whew…well, this ought to do it,” said Hugues as he finished loading a sack of unrefined flour into the wagon.

If Lawrence were to simply turn around and sell the gifts off, he could make a lot of money, although to Hugues it was probably no great sum. And in any case, Hugues seemed even happier than the delighted Holo in the wagon bed, so Lawrence made no move to stop him. It was rather amusing to see a sheep spirit like Hugues so busily aiding a wolf like Holo, but it was not as though this was none of Lawrence’s business.

Holo immediately found some jerky and leaned back against a rolled-up blanket.

Lawrence said another thank-you, and Hugues shook his head as though it were nothing. Then he drew close to Lawrence’s ear and whispered something Lawrence would not forget: “Given the coin value of how much I’ve made, I feel honestly bad that I’m only giving you this much.”

There were no better words he could have spoken to make Lawrence feel better about the mountain of gifts. Hugues was obviously telling the truth, so all Lawrence had to do was happily accept his largesse.

“I thank you,” said Lawrence one last time, taking Hugues’s hand.

“Regarding the letter Miss Fran requested, when it’s finished, I’ll have it sent to you on a fast horse.” Then it would be delivered to the Beast and Fish Tail, a famous tavern with devotees as far away as Kerube. “Oh, and one more thing,” said Hugues, glancing at Holo in the wagon bed.

Holo was idly gnawing away at her jerky as she gazed up at the clear sky and seemed not to be listening to them.

“I’ll send it, as well.”

That was Hugues’s long experience as an art seller coming into play. He was deliberately overdoing the gossipy whisper to increase the air of mystery.

Even Col—who busied himself with picking up fallen vegetable leaves and wood chips and covering the wagon bed’s contents with a tarp—would find the sentiment rather baffling, to say nothing of Holo. But given her wisewolf’s pride, she would hardly venture to ask what they were talking about.

Part of this was that such questions would stir up extra trouble for her, and at the moment, she was also pretending more demure modesty than usual. At the same time, this could be used against her when he actually did want to hide something from her.

Hugues had only too readily taken advantage of that.

“We’ll be off, then,” said Lawrence, after putting Col in the wagon bed and settling himself in the driver’s seat.

He urged the horse on, and the familiar clatter of clopping hooves and rattling cartwheels filled the air.

It was the merchant’s way to forego lengthy good-byes and drawn-out words of thanks. “Time is money,” went the saying, and anyway, it was best to make painful partings as short as possible. It was best to pull the arrow out of the wound quickly, after all.

Hugues’s form would soon disappear into the crowds, and no doubt Fran’s barely visible hand in the inn’s window would likewise vanish. Lawrence heard the sound of the wistful, backward-facing Col sit down rather abruptly.

Once they passed through its walls and emerged from within the town, it, too, would sink into the scenery.

And before them was only the road.

Lawrence slapped the reins across the horses’ hindquarters.

They were chilled by the occasional gusts of wind from over the river’s surface.

The sky was a leaden gray, and its color, reflected in the river, made both look frozen, only adding to the chill. On top of that, the air was exceedingly dry, and one could practically feel the moisture draining from one’s face.

Long ago, Lawrence had thought his master’s habit of applying medicinal grease to his face in this season quite strange, but lately when he neglected his own health, flakes of skin soon appeared on his face.

He had been working alone as a merchant for seven years—ever since setting out at the age of eighteen—and perhaps the fatigue was finally catching up with him.

If so, so be it.

The problem was, his companion, who neglected her own health far more than he did, seemed to consider such worries utterly irrelevant to her own lot.

“Of course not, you fool,” said his traveling companion Holo as she sat beside him. Her hair fluttered in the wind, brushing the corner of his eye and making it itch most unpleasantly. When he looked over at her profile, those were the words that greeted him. “You humans show your feelings on your face. We wolves show them with our fur. That I must curl my tail about Col every night lest he cry from the cold only makes it more so,” she said with a displeased sigh, all the while tidying the fur before her.

It was no sash or wrap, but entirely her own: the fur of her tail.

Holo looked to be a girl in her teens, but her true form was that of a giant wolf, big enough to devour Lawrence in a single bite. A wolf who dwelled in the wheat and guaranteed its bountiful harvest.

As such, whenever she pulled back the hood over her head, two proudly pointed wolf ears appeared.

Although at first he had been unable to conceal his considerable fear of her, now it was not so. Though she was someone he would do well to never underestimate, she was nonetheless irreplaceable, his most treasured traveling companion.

“Is that so? It’s so lovely that one such as I would never notice a flaw in it, so…”

His obvious flattery was delivered in a deadpan monotone, which earned him a stomp on his foot. But her tail still puffed up happily, which was why he had to resort to such childish tactics.

At length, they both sighed at the foolishness to which they had each sunk. The only reason they had resorted to repeating such familiar patterns was that there in the wagon, there was nothing else to do.

“Is there nothing amusing we might play at?” There was not, of course, which was why Holo normally busied herself with either tail grooming or napping, curled up, in the wagon bed.

Lawrence thought about it for a moment, then replied. “There certainly are quite a few boats heading downriver,” he said, pointing at the river. Holo, resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on Lawrence’s lap, looked listlessly to the river, then back up at Lawrence.

“When so many boats head downriver, you would think the number of boats left upriver decreases, and the waters downriver would be crowded. But it’s not so—why do you suppose that is?”

Lawrence heard Holo murmur a small “Huh?”

Holo called herself wisewolf and took pride in the quickness of her wits. At Lawrence’s question, she looked again at the river, then at Lawrence.

“Why do you suppose that is?” he asked again, looking at Holo out of the corner of one eye, squinted against the cold, whereupon Holo drew in her chin in consternation. “Hmmmm…,” she moaned thoughtfully.

It was the sort of teasing a bored master would often inflict on his apprentice.

For such teasing to succeed, it was necessary for the mark to have confidence in their own intelligence. Then you would simply ask them an obvious question.

If ships only traveled downstream, then there would soon be no ships upriver, while downriver the waters would be jammed with ships.

Which meant there could only be one answer.

“I-I know,” said Holo.

“Oh?” replied Lawrence, facing forward. He gave the horse a flick of the reins to stop it from grazing on some grass, as though inviting Holo to give him her answer.

“A ship heading downriver is the same as a load of lumber, is it not?”

“Meaning?”

“Mm. Meaning that when the ships reach the sea, they’re either broken up for lumber, or they continue on across the ocean. Coming from upriver, they satisfy a demand both for ships and for lumber itself, as well as transporting other goods. Three birds with one stone.”

It was a reasonable answer. When she had begun speaking, Holo’s face had been uncertain, but by the time she arrived at the end of her argument, her face was quite proud, as if to say, “How about that, eh?”

Lawrence disguised his laugher with a cough. “Not even close,” he said. “The answer is that the ships are pulled back upriver. They go and come back. Obvious, isn’t it?”

Upon hearing this, Holo wore an expression like that of a tricked puppy.

“The point is, the most complicated answer isn’t always the right one,” said Lawrence, poking the betrayed-looking Holo between her eyebrows. His hands were covered by thick deerskin gloves he had received from Hugues, so he had nothing to fear.

Holo slapped his hand away and bared her sharp fangs.

Lawrence laughed, at which she turned away peevishly, with not a shred of the majesty befitting a wisewolf.

“Of course, depending on the season, sometimes what you suggested does happen. But in that case, it’s usually a raft. And the riverbank here, see how it’s so free of reeds and such? Since there’s so much shipping traffic, and they have to pull all those ships back upriver, the banks are kept clear to make it easy for horses to pull the ropes attached to the ships.”

Because of the heavy shipping traffic, when ships were hauled back upriver, downriver traffic was limited and largely tied up. Given that, at the moment, no ships were visible either up- or downriver, it was likely that they would not encounter one at all during this particular journey.

If they ran into a ship being taken back upriver by a hauling party, they might have had a grand time—the hauling parties were loud and boisterous affairs.

Lawrence explained this, at which Holo heaved a great sigh. “’Tis a pity, then, such a pity!” she grumbled. If half of her grumbling was from frustration at having been fooled by Lawrence, the other half was out of genuine disappointment—from their earlier travels down this very river, she had personal experience of just how hearty its travelers could be. “As we’ve so much fine wine, and all…”

Lawrence laughed unhesitatingly at this murmur, and Holo, too, giggled mischievously. But the sound of their laughter soon disappeared into the wind that blew across the river.

This trouble that had started their journey together had been only a few months earlier, but already it felt like the distant past.

Time had passed quickly—and it could not be wound back.

A smile continued to play across Holo’s lips, and she looked quietly toward the river.

If nothing was eternal, there was no point in making a dour expression. Lawrence knew that, and yet could not help himself.

Lawrence attempted to put his arm around Holo, but it was nothing less than Holo’s own hand that stopped him.

“Mm. I suppose ’twould not be so bad to nestle myself in your bosom now, but…” Taking hold of the index finger of his gloved hand, she placed it back on his lap. It was not as though she was chiding a light-fingered urchin, but her face was still rather serious. “I’m worried about that,” said Holo, bringing her face near to Lawrence’s shoulder and lightly inclining her chin toward the wagon bed.

Lawrence was not so naive as to believe that Holo had suddenly wanted to be close to him so badly that she had decided to do her tail grooming in the driver’s seat next to him, as opposed to her normal spot in the wagon bed.

He knew the boy was of an essentially mild nature, and that given his druthers would prefer sitting happily next to someone rather than keeping to himself in deep contemplation. But ever since their stay in Kerube, he seemed to have something quietly on his mind.

“He hasn’t said anything to you, either, then?”

“Nay. I know it started when he talked to that fool girl.” Holo seemed more dissatisfied than worried.

“That fool girl” surely referred to Fran, and if she had had some kind of effect on Col, that had to be the answer. The walls of Hugues’s shop and home were not so thick as to prevent Holo’s sharp ears from listening in on any secret conversations that happened within them.

If she had only listened carefully, she would have been able to hear what they had said, Lawrence was about to point out, when Holo pinched his thigh. “I’m Holo, a proud wisewolf. Don’t mistake me for some gossipy little bint.”

“Fine, fine, all right! Sorry.”

Holo squinted at Lawrence, then finally let go of his thigh. Still, when she looked ahead, her lips thin and sharp, she could not help but spit out her weakness. “Can he not rely upon me, then?”

Lawrence know Holo well enough to know when she was joking. It was her amber eyes, more than anything else, that reflected her heart. Usually red tinged with the force of her triumphant pride, when downcast, they looked like brittle honey candy about to break.

Holo had suffered the despair of being unneeded by anyone for centuries. No doubt their exchange after speaking with Fran about the map was also contributing to this.

Lawrence looked back into the wagon bed and replied with a light tone, “Meeting the right person can change you. Or would you prefer he stay a boy forever?”

Even a chick sleeping beneath its mother’s wing would one day have to fly on its own. Much less Col, who had left his village with such great determination. He knew the smell of dust and dirt too well to let Holo fuss over him forever. And Lawrence was well aware that Holo was not so self-centered as to actually begrudge Col his maturity.

Still looking ahead, Holo sighed a long, quiet exhalation. Then, as her face passed through the white fog of her breath, she tilted her head in irritation and glared back at Lawrence resentfully. “That’s why I’ve kept quiet, isn’t it?”

Lawrence did not shrink away. Instead, he let it pass lightly by, replying with deliberate politeness. “Oh, indeed.”

Holo punched Lawrence’s thigh with a balled-up fist. But instead of bringing her hand back up, she left it there, resting on his leg. “But I’m no god.”

She spoke the words sullenly, her eyes upturned in far too human a manner to be thought of as a deity of any holiness or special sanctity.

Of course, merchants preferred their wine a little muddied.

Lawrence took Holo’s hand. “Oh, indeed,” he repeated.

This time, though, Holo was not angry at all. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

* * *

Holo was not of the disposition to forcibly pry into the concerns of others, though this was true of Lawrence as well. And yet, she tended to fret over things more than others, which made for a delicate atmosphere.

She was quick of wit and mean-spirited at times, which could make her seem selfish. But the truth was not so: She simply was not the type who always needed to add her unasked-for thoughts, nor did she constantly offer her opinion when someone else was having problems.

She did not mind coming to someone’s aid, though—quite the contrary, she enjoyed it. However, she was a reserved sort and would not offer help when it was not requested. Ever since their duo had become a trio and Lawrence had gotten the opportunity to see Holo interacting with someone else, he had realized that about her.

Of course, once Lawrence realized this through her disposition toward Col, and began to wonder if it might be the case toward himself as well, there was an abundance of clues. Though she had so often bullied him for being insensitive, once he realized the truth of the matter, he concluded that he truly had been insensitive.

It was not exactly out of penance for this, but nonetheless Lawrence had taken to serving Holo slightly more generous portions at mealtime.

Holo, of course, noticed the deliberately larger servings and made a sour face as though to say, “You needn’t bother.”

Thus, their travels had proceeded a bit more awkwardly and silently than usual, only regaining their liveliness once they encountered a group of fishermen pulling fish up onto the riverbank.

“There, pull!” To the rhythmic booming of a drum they pulled, many men hauling a great net that had been spread out over the river. There were also men facing the net, beating the surface of the water with sticks, and men in traveling clothes similar to Lawrence’s party, bent over and looking down at the catch on the riverbank.

As the river belonged to the local landlord, one could not simply take fish from it as one pleased. Among the fishermen here were more than a few soldiers armed with short spears, grim faced and carrying some sort of parchment, counting the fishes that had been caught in the nets and brought ashore. The fish were then tossed into barrels and buckets that had been readied in wagon beds. Said barrels and buckets were then marked with lime chalk, and once they were full, the wagons rolled off.

Given that the river was so heavily trafficked, they had probably chosen this place to fish because it was far removed from any towns. Lawrence looked upstream and saw a checkpoint, and it seemed that ships were being stopped to let the fishing continue.

The net became heavier as it was dragged, and both the beat of the drum and the shouts of the men grew louder in response. Lawrence glanced back into his own wagon bed and saw that Col and Holo both had stood and were watching the fishing with intense interest, their fists clenched.

With one last, great cry from the men, the net, twitching as though filled with huge catfish, was finally hauled ashore. The fish seemed large, despite the cold season. Perhaps the marine life did not have to worry much about food, given what food fell overboard from all the passing ships.

There was a loud shout of triumph, and the net haulers all swarmed around the catch.

In addition to the noise of the fishermen all vying to be the first, the officials’ angry shouts and the onlookers’ cries of delight were intermixed—it was a great commotion. There was the thrashing about of the fish, too, and the sound of them being tossed into the waiting barrels, and then the sound of the filled wagons pulling away. It was a pleasant, comforting tumult.

After so long on the constantly cold landscape seemingly devoid of any living thing, this was the first obvious sign of life and liveliness they had seen in some time.

Perhaps that was why everyone watching seemed so pleased, even relieved.

As the last wagon pulled away, spontaneous applause broke out, and even Holo and Col began to clap happily, despite not exactly understanding.

Lawrence plucked a scrap of jerky from the wagon bed and regarded the pair. “Hey, you two. You’d best make ready.”

“Mm? Make ready?” Holo and Col alike looked down at him.

“I declare this fishing expedition concluded! By the charity of Lord Osborne, the remaining fish shall be given to the people!” announced one of the officials in a loud voice, his spear tip raised high.

At this, those who had been sitting here and there around the edge of the riverbank, gazing at the fish, sprung to their feet, as if they had been waiting for this moment. When they reached the river, there were many fish still opening and closing their mouths.

The region’s landlord must have concluded that sparing the people a small share of fish would prevent them from trying to poach from the river. Presented with such readily available stock, even a group of travelers on pilgrimage would snatch them up all too happily.

Men and women alike hitched up the hems of their robes, cast off their overcoats, and gathered up great armfuls of fish. Holo and Col looked at each other, then immediately kicked their shoes off and sprinted barefoot toward the riverbank. Holo seemed not even to care that her tail was briefly visible.

Lawrence watched the pair with a happily exasperated expression on his face, then plucked a tendon free from his jerky. He tossed the inedible bit aside before joining a group around a bonfire to get some warmth.

That evening dinner came early, with the freshly caught fish covered in salt and roasted over the fire. Holo and Col devoured fish as though they were competing to see who could feast the best. It was not very mannerly, but in that moment, it was a joyous meal nonetheless.

Once he visited a town on his trade route, Lawrence would generally not see it again for a year. That had been his life, and he had largely expected it to continue that way.

So it was strange to not only see Kerube again, but also now Lenos, after not so very great a span of time had passed.

“Though you’re not so angry this time,” said Lawrence, tucking the letter of introduction he had received from Hugues into his breast pocket.

Given the luxurious goods in the wagon bed, passing legitimately through the town gates would have involved paying a hefty tax, but Hugues had not failed to take that into account. He had dropped the name of a lord he was close with, and in the letter asked for the taxation amount to be adjusted.

Perhaps because the goods he dealt with were of such high value, Hugues seemed to wield significant influence. Once the letter was recognized as genuine, the officials at the gate quickly turned polite.

However, just as Lawrence expected to be sent on his way, they insisted rather formidably on conducting a thorough inspection of the goods he was carrying.

Thus it was that Holo’s tail had been once again referred to as “a cheap fur” by an inspector.

“I can’t go getting angry at every little slight. And anyway, fatigue has made my tail most unkempt, so I’ve no leg to stand on, really.” She yawned hugely, then sighed. Perhaps she had decided that being quick to anger was beneath her dignity as a wisewolf, or perhaps she truly was fatigued—either way, Holo slumped in the driver’s seat. The only one among them with any energy was Col, for whom this visit to the town of Lenos was his first.

Of course, in Holo’s case, her fatigue was likely less physical than it was mental. The sudden opportunity to participate in the fish-taking had gotten her strangely excited, and thereafter she had gotten out of the wagon bed many times, choosing instead to walk. Lawrence half joked that she might as well transform into her true form and enjoy her walk that way, but the serious, considering look on her face stopped him short.

She might have been trying to make Col laugh, but another part of that look was surely genuine.

Lawrence knew she would be angry if he pointed this out, so he pretended not to notice, though in the cloudless night, sometimes Holo arched her back as though she ached to howl.

It would not have been strange at all for her to want to howl with all her might, once in a while, and run until her legs would no longer carry her.

“When we arrive at the inn, I’ll have the innkeeper make ready hot water and towels. You’ll feel better after washing the dust off.”

“And fine oil, too.”

She had learned some time ago that oil was good for combing out her tail, but it was not until trying it at Hugues’s place that she had gotten the taste for it.

She would not have asked for something he would outright refuse. He only put up mild resistance in the form of a sour expression and the words “if there’s time to buy it.”

Yet that was enough to improve her spirits, so perhaps it was a small price to pay.

“So, then, how long will we be staying, eh?” asked Holo, curled up and resting her cheek on her knees. She was not facing him when she asked, and her tone sounded uninterested, but Lawrence knew she was in fact very concerned about the issue.

Lawrence considered it for a few moments and decided on an optimistic answer. “I’d say three or four days at the longest. We’re just getting information. We’ve already got cold-weather gear, and we’ll only need to buy a little extra food.”

“Mm.” Holo sighed, as though satisfied to hear that much, but beneath her hood, her ears still twitched busily.

Lawrence cleared his throat and continued, “We don’t know which route we’ll be taking, though. So long as it has a bit of traffic, a snowpack route will be fine. Otherwise, we’ll need to find a good road. The former will take us to the Debau Company—the latter, to Nyohhira.”

Nyohhira was a name likely to make Holo uneasy, but it was one of a very few place-names that she remembered. Holo stubbornly continued to look away, but she could not hide her nostalgia. If prodded, she might well have started weeping, which brought Lawrence to smile fondly.

“Col—do you know the town of Nyohhira?”

Lawrence turned the conversation to Col, afraid of what might happen if Holo noticed him smiling at her.

Col seemed initially taken aback at being so suddenly drawn into the conversation but then nodded. “The name only.”

“It’s an old town, with hot springs that gush up out of the ground. I’ve passed through it once—it was a curious place.”

“Curious?”

“Yes. Despite being so far out in a foreign land, it’s said that the highest-ranking clergy from all over the world gather there. And in hundreds of years, there’s never once been a battle there.”

Col, being from a town that had suffered the unreasonable persecution of the Church, all in the name of God, seemed to find this nearly unbelievable. He really was a good conversation partner, given how charmingly he showed his surprise.

“That’s why so many people, suffering from the pain of this always-fighting world of ours, seem to think they’re hiding the secret to eternal peace there.” As Lawrence spoke, he lightly rested his elbow on the head of the still-turned-away Holo.

“But there’s no way the world is ever going to stop fighting, is there…?”

“That’s true. A good soak in hot water can cure all sorts of sickness and injury, so everyone forgets about their troubled hearts. That’s not going to stop the world from fighting.”

Under Lawrence’s elbow, Holo turned her head and, after giving the sadly smiling Col a little grin, spoke up in a bored tone of voice. “I soaked in that water myself long ago, and now I remember how much I fought to cool off after it.”

Lawrence knew he did not need to worry whether he had pushed things too far. He gave Holo’s head a brisk rub, then pulled on the reins to avoid a dog.

“The shopkeeper Miss Fran told us about is a former mercenary, she said. Hopefully he’s had a nice soak and is feeling large of heart when we arrive.”

“I’m rather hoping for a large inn,” said Holo. Whether or not their stay in the town was enjoyable rested on the quality of the accommodations.

Col was kneeling in the wagon bed—which was dangerous, so Lawrence had him sit. “I doubt old Arold’s place is still in business. Hard to know whether we’ll find a good inn or not.”

“The place where I was held in hock was splendid,” said Holo spitefully, her eyes narrowed.

Lawrence did not think she was actually angry, but he could not very well point that out. He did not ever want to use Holo as collateral again. “Well, we’ll ask around town.”

“Do you know anyone there?” Holo’s eyes made it very clear that she had no intention of returning to the angry folk of the Delink Company. No matter how favorably one might try to look at the men who had held Holo hostage, they were not a pleasant lot. They wriggled like leeches, made webs like spiders, and pretended at nobility—all the hateful things in the world condensed into human form.

And yet it was thanks to their like that the world kept turning, and Lawrence had profited through them. If possible, he did not want to get involved with them again—and yet it made him a bit wistful to imagine how much of his life might elapse before he was involved in another deal of that size again.

Lawrence smiled to himself as such thoughts crossed his mind, then scratched his nose. “I have some other acquaintances, yes. I’ll need to contact someone to receive the map, and I’ll ask them if they can recommend an inn.”

Though it was only a few weeks earlier that the hide tanners and all related merchants had been driven from Lenos, it seemed just as busy as ever. Perhaps the trouble with the furs truly had been a mere tempest in a teacup.

Lawrence pulled at the reins, steering the wagon hither and thither through the busy streets.

It was only when they passed a street filled with what seemed to be butchers’ shops—with rows of baskets tightly packed with chickens—that Holo spoke. “So you have some acquaintances, do you?”

“Yes, at a place called the Beast and Fish Tail.”

“Mm? Oh, the shop where they had that peculiar rodent dish.”

Lawrence seemed to remember Holo liking the food there. If they dined at the place, they could kill three birds with one stone.

Once they finished passing by the street, raucous with the crying of the hens, Lawrence took up the reins and was about to give the horse’s hindquarters a snap. And just in that moment, Holo spoke.

“You’ve certainly got some nerve.”

“Huh?”

What did nerve have to do with treating Holo to the famous cooking of the Beast and Fish Tail?

Merchants could recall most things they had seen. Lawrence flipped back through his memory, and it stopped at the image of a certain woman. There was a famous and capable shopgirl who worked at the Beast and Fish Tail.

“Ah.” As Lawrence was trying to decide whether or not to bother to groan, Holo interrupted.

“Ah well, I’ll soak myself thoroughly in the hot springs of Nyohhira, and forget my angered heart, won’t I?”

The look in Holo’s eyes at that moment was very far indeed from forgetting any sort of anger at all. She looked almost excited at the prospect of chasing off any sense of ease Lawrence might have felt. Behind them, Col craned his neck around, confused, but Lawrence could not very well suggest they not go—not anymore, at least.

Lawrence was thoroughly distracted until a craftsman of some kind shouted angrily at him, at which Lawrence hastened to bring his attention back to the street in front of him.

Exhausted, he looked up, while beside him Holo smiled triumphantly.

In this particular city, anytime one looked up, the church spire was plainly visible. Lawrence regarded it and silently prayed that nothing more would go wrong.

It is generally once the sun sets that a tavern becomes truly busy. This was all the more true when the establishment had a respectable clientele, as the Beast and Fish Tail surely did. So when Lawrence and his charges arrived there, it was nearly empty.

However, it was not quiet. Rather, they seemed to be in the midst of preparing for dinner. Right in the center of the tavern were several buckets, each filled to overflowing with shells.

“Hello, there!” said Lawrence by way of greeting as he walked through the open doors, at which the shopgirl turned and squinted, her eyes evidently not adjusted to the bright daylight.

“Hm? Oh, you’re the merchant from before.”

“Yes, and my thanks.” Col had been left to mind the wagon bed, and Holo was at Lawrence’s side.

Inwardly, Lawrence prayed that nobody would do anything unnecessary—neither the shopgirl nor Holo. At the very least, neither of them seemed visibly inclined to do so.

But Lawrence was a merchant. He was well aware that each was carefully appraising the other. If it had been a simple battle of wills with him as the prize, he would have been flattered, but he understood things well enough to know that was not the case here.

They were like hunters, each readying their bows for a contest. And as the target at which they would be shooting, Lawrence was disinclined to simply stand there.

“So, what profit are you chasing this time?” said the barmaid as she took clams from the bucket on her right, shucked their innards into the center bucket, then discarded the shell into the leftmost one. Her skill was considerable, and she had a good tool.

Her knife’s grip was a simple wrapping of cloth, and the keen blade sparkled like water. With the knife in one hand, her movements were quick and efficient, without apparent effort or wasted motion—it gave the girl a very imposing mien.

“No, no, nothing like that. I’ve had my fill of chasing profit,” said Lawrence with a pained smile, at which the barmaid laughed lightly.

“I wonder how many merchants I’ve heard say the same thing.”

Given that the tavern was the sort of place merchants flocked to for information whenever the situation changed in town, the barmaid had certainly seen the dejected faces of those same merchants after the fact.

“You may be right.”

The girl giggled. “A merchant’s heart is fickle. As are their excuses—I couldn’t help myself. I’m through. I was out of my right mind.”

Though the girl’s eyes were on Lawrence, it was entirely obvious that her attention was directed toward Holo.

Lawrence shivered, but beside him the wolf smiled happily.

“’Tis true, is it not?” said Holo, looking up at Lawrence, and her grin was by no means a false one.

She was a wisewolf—simply because someone else was spoiling for a fight did not mean she would rise to such bait.

Lawrence felt great relief, and then—

“I’ve seen the whole thing, all the way up to the sad tears and the swearing to go back to only good, honest business. Honestly, they’re a pack of fools, merchants are.” Holo quickly reached up and fixed Lawrence’s collar.

Both she and the barmaid smiled amused smiles.

Lawrence swallowed and attempted to escape the dilemma into which he had been cornered. “T-true enough, true enough. I’ve come here today because I wish to ask about something, that’s all.”

“And what might that be?” the barmaid replied after a short pause, during which she very clearly met Holo’s eyes.

Lawrence was glad he had left Col behind. Anyone else watching this exchange would conclude he was the most foolish man alive.

“It’s about the furs…Ah—!”

As he was speaking—and perhaps to purposely fluster him—one of the shell meats fell apart in her hands, and just when Lawrence thought she was going to discard it, she popped it raw into her mouth and gulped it down. Then she reached behind her, grabbed a small cask, and drank from it to wash the bite down.

Given the way she drank, the cask’s contents seemed to be strong liquor indeed.

“Whew. Well, if that’s what you’re after, it’s far too late now, eh?”

Even allowing for her actions in that moment to be entirely purposeful, she seemed quite used to drinking casually on the job. No doubt her lack of pretense on that count was part of her peculiar charm.

At the very least, the combination of shellfish and wine would make Holo properly envious.

It suddenly occurred to Lawrence that the two girls might be surprisingly compatible.

“No, nothing like that—it seems we’ll be staying in this town again for a while, so I was hoping you could recommend a good inn.”

“Oh, my,” said the barmaid, pouting like a small child. “How rude to ask me such a thing!”

“…” Lawrence did not at all understand what the girl was getting at, and finally Holo poked him a few times as she spoke up.

“’Tis a joke, that obviously the best place to stay would be hers.”

“Huh? O-oh!” Lawrence finally understood the jest, whereupon his breath caught in his throat. For her to make that joke, and for Holo to then have to explain it to him—

Lawrence could look at the market values of lumione gold pieces, trenni silver pieces, and lute silver pieces, or between wheat and iron and herring, and tease out a profit. But he had absolutely no idea how to negotiate the situation he now found himself in.

After all, Fran’s map would be arriving here via Hugues. There was no telling what trouble he would bring upon himself if he damaged the mood. And the barmaid was an extremely valuable source of information, which he had no desire to lose.

And yet—if he directed all his attention to the barmaid, he would have Holo’s fangs to fear later.

Bringing Holo in here at all had been a terrible mistake.

Oh, God! Lawrence was in agony, and on the verge of surrender, when—

“Pfft!” Holo was the first to laugh. “Pffha-ha-ha-ha!” She laughed and laughed, looking piteously upon Lawrence, yet seemingly unable to restrain herself.

Lawrence had no notion of what was so funny. The barmaid, shell in hand, hid her mouth behind her wrist as her shoulders shook with mirth.

“…? —?”

It was not at all uncommon for traveling merchants to go places where they did not speak the language. In such occasions, the most important thing was not to engage the services of an interpreter, nor to be constantly on guard for danger, nor to carry plenty of ransom money.

The most important thing was to never forget to smile.

A smile was the greatest weapon, the greatest shield; it was the most powerful protection one could have.

Lawrence joined the two in their laughter, though he did not understand it one bit.

Unable to resist, the barmaid finally rolled her head back, eyes looking up at the ceiling as she snickered.

The three laughed together for a while, but finally Holo used a corner of Lawrence’s clothing to wipe the tears from her eyes, and she directed her gaze lightly toward the barmaid.

“Ha-ha-ha…Ah, but we shouldn’t tease him too much.”

The girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took another swallow of the none-too-weak wine. She took a breath and nodded. “Yes, quite right. No wonder he seems so invulnerable—he’s oblivious! Oh, goodness, but that was fun,” she said, and with a flick of her knife, she sent more shell meat into the bucket.

She tossed the large shell onto the pile, wiped the knife clean on her apron, and stood from her chair.

“Food is best with salt, but salt alone is a distasteful thing. I’ve been foolish.”

“Mm. Still, I must compliment your eye, for noticing how magnificent the cooking in question might be.”

The barmaid’s shoulders slumped in capitulation, and the knife blade she pointed in Lawrence’s direction waggled lightly. “If it’s an inn you need, I recommend Sister Eunice’s place on nunnery row. If you tell her my shop sent you there, you’ll not be treated poorly.”

Next to a smile on the list of things a traveling merchant could not forget was proper thanks. Even if he did not understand why, showing proper gratitude could settle most situations.

“Ah, you have my thanks.”

“Was that all you needed? If you need food, I’ll make it and have it sent to Eunice’s.”

Lawrence looked to Holo for her decision—whereupon both girls again laughed simultaneously.

“Fine, fine, I can see you’d rather eat in a quiet room than here. I’ll have it sent over,” said the barmaid, raising both hands up to shoulder level, as though she were the one capitulating.

Still, Holo stepped lightly on Lawrence’s foot, as though she were truly a bit exasperated. For Lawrence’s part, he felt that trying to understand whatever it was these two girls were talking about was the more impossible request.

“It will take a bit of time, but it should arrive by sunset. Shall the house choose the menu, then?”

“Ah, er, yes, please. Also, there’s another in our party outside. So a meal for three, then.”

“Another?” asked the barmaid curiously, at which Lawrence was finally able to smile a genuine smile. “Unfortunately, he’s not a girl. It’s a boy we picked up in our travels.”

“My goodness. Perhaps I should go after him instead.” The barmaid put the sharp knife to her cheek thoughtfully, as though considering the notion.

If Col were taken in by such a woman he would be eaten alive, Lawrence was quite certain. And if Lawrence felt as much, Holo seemed even more convinced. She glared at the barmaid with undisguised suspicion.

“Fine, fine!” said the girl with an exaggerated tone and began to untie her dirty apron.

Lawrence could not help but heave an exhausted sigh, but then realized he had neglected to mention the most important part of this visit. “Oh, that’s right.”

“Yes?” said the girl, still bent over.

“There should be a letter for me from Kerube arriving here soon, and it will be addressed to this tavern, so…”

“Oh, certainly. Understood. Kerube, you say? Who could it be, I wonder.”

“It will be from the Hugues company, which deals in fine arts.”

At Lawrence’s words, the girl replied with a short “Ah,” then folded her apron up and placed it on the table. “That piggish-looking fellow, eh? He sometimes visits for a meal—he goes on and on about how the sin of gluttony doesn’t apply to the Fish Tail and eats a great mountain of food.”

Lawrence noticed Holo snicker beside him, and he imagined that she was guessing at the reason for Hugues’s portly appearance. You’re not so very different from him, he thought to himself.

“But if it’s all the same…”

“Huh?” Lawrence replied, looking to the barmaid as she hefted the pail of shell meat.

The barmaid began to walk toward the kitchen but stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “If it’s all the same, you’d rather receive a different sort of letter, wouldn’t you?”

Was the faintly lonely smile on her face a fake one? The thought crossed Lawrence’s mind for a moment, but then he realized what the girl was getting at and answered. “Letters tend to be sent from distant places, so will that be all right?”

“Hm?” replied the barmaid, confused.

Holo, too, seemed not to understand. She was looking up at Lawrence from beside him.

“If you wouldn’t mind me sending such a letter from a far-off land, I’d be happy to write and say that I long to eat the food here while it’s still hot.”

The girl raised her chin and curled one corner of her lips up in a half smile. “I don’t much like the idea of going far away to serve just one person. Better to stay here, where I can serve many.”

With rumors of countless love affairs.

Were it not for Holo, Lawrence might well have been taken in by her himself.

He watched the girl disappear into the kitchen and chided himself for thinking it.

But when their business was complete and they turned toward the wagon, Holo looked squarely at Lawrence. “If I’d not dug you up, you’d’ve spent your whole life in the ground,” she said.

A gem was only a gem once it was pulled out of the earth. Don’t imagine you’d remain a gem if you leave the gem cutter who found you, she was surely saying.

Lawrence sighed. “Quite so, my lady,” he said and respectfully took Holo’s hand. He thanked God for the good fortune he had had to make it out of the tavern alive.

Nothing aroused the appetite like the smell of thinly sliced garlic, coated generously in oil and tossed in salt.

Lawrence was disappointed in himself for going through the wine so quickly, and despite his best efforts collapsed into drunken sleep even before Holo did.

He had vague memories of, while being helped to his feet by Col, looking past the boy and finding Holo grinning triumphantly—as though she were enjoying his pathetic state as a side dish to her own drinking. But he had no idea how much of that was reality.

He raised his head, which felt as heavy as though it were packed with sand. Sitting upright, the first thing he was sure of was that the sun had long since risen and his body reeked of alcohol.

Also, that Holo and Col were nowhere to be seen.

He gave his head a vigorous shake, which gave him a glimpse of hell. With his hand he gently rubbed his head, then slowly stood up. It seemed the iron pitcher on the table had been refilled with fresh water, cold enough to have condensation on it.

Lawrence took a careful drink, then looked around the room.

There were no overcoats or robes to be found, so he presumed his companions had gone out somewhere.

In a sudden panic he searched the table for his coin purse, but as far as he could tell, the number of silver pieces it contained was unchanged.

“Where did they go?” He cocked his head and yawned, then opened the window’s wooden shutters, which let the painfully bright morning sunlight come stabbing into the room.

He narrowed his eyes for a time, then looked down onto the back alley, where he saw a woman balancing a basket on her head as she ambled down the way. A young boy with a sack wrapped around himself ran alongside her.

It was a completely ordinary day in the city.

He sighed again, intent on checking the state of his beard, when something white caught his eye.

He looked and saw two familiar forms making their way along the narrow path that wound up the hill.

“To the church?” Lawrence asked as he looked down at the reflection of his face. The water was held in a bucket, which sat at the edge of the well.

Also sitting on the well curb was Holo, who nodded. “Aye. My nose was finding the scent of garlic and wine in the room rather tiresome, you see. The lad was begging me, so we went to ‘morning prayers’ or whatever they’re called.”

She was complaining incessantly about the smell, but in truth Lawrence could smell it himself and could thus hardly refute her. He lightly rinsed his knife in the bucket, then put its blade to his cheek. “Was it well attended?”

“Aye. It seemed they might not let us in at all, but one look at Col and I and they relented.”

With a traveling nun on one hand, and wandering boy on the other, even the hardest-headed church guard would find himself moved to sympathy, no doubt.

But given that Col was only studying Church law in order to better use the Church, why would he want to attend the morning prayers? Of course, there were many who believed quite seriously in the existence of three or four gods and that so long as there was something to be gained via just one of them that was enough devotion. And while Col’s plan was to use the Church for his own purposes, it would hardly be strange if, in the course of studying its law, he had become a believer himself. Or perhaps it was simply that the serene aura within the sanctuary was to the liking of a quiet boy like Col?

“Still, you must be in fine spirits, to venture so boldly into enemy territory.”

Holo dangled her feet over the well’s edge like a little girl. And even if she had not, a glance at her profile made her good mood altogether obvious.

“Aye. Col was so delighted, you see. Though my smile was a wry one, we went to the church, and I felt refreshed.” She grinned, somewhat abashed, and Lawrence, too, had to smile.

“How very like you, to share him like that.”

Holo heard Lawrence’s words as though they were a faint song carried to her on the wind.

As far as her relationship with the Church went, Holo’s face ought to have been complicated, as though it were a difficult matter to explain with mere words. But her expression was clear, and she spoke with a note of pride in her voice. “Unlike you, I am well aware of what is important in life.”

Lawrence answered as he checked the sharpness of his blade with his hand. “Meaning?”

“Meaning Col’s happy face is more important to me than more trivial manners.”

Lawrence followed the image of Holo’s face as it was reflected in the knife blade, then carefully put it to his jaw. “So, when he begged you to come with him, you were even happier, you mean?”

He had meant it to tease, but Holo ducked her head and chuckled. She was making it quite clear to Lawrence what made her happy and what she disliked.

“So the notion that he just ought to have been more honest from the beginning is just a foolish wandering merchant’s simpleminded thinking, then?”

Holo had constantly worried, as they traveled in the wagon bed, about Col’s reluctance to ask about the things that were bothering him. As Lawrence shaved his beard after laying the problem bare, Holo hopped down from the well curb and made some rustling noises.

Lawrence straightened, but there was no need to look.

Holo took a step or two, then sat again such that she was back-to-back with Lawrence. “Am I not a wisewolf in the end? I’ve my dignity to think of.”

Lawrence smiled, because the ticklish amusement in her voice was communicated via the place where their backs touched. “It must be difficult,” he said.

Holo’s tail swished. “’Tis difficult indeed.”

It was not clear how serious she was, but at the very least, she did not seem to be doing things on principle just because she was a wisewolf. Being clear about one’s feelings and thoughts was a source of great comfort, especially for merchants.

Perhaps Holo was thinking the same thing.

Completely out of his field of vision, her presence only clear via her body heat at his back, Holo continued. “Would you be angry if I said I was excited to go to Yoitsu?”

Their arrival at Yoitsu would mean nothing less than the end of their journey. But Lawrence only smiled ruefully. “I would not. I myself would like to play at being a wise man, after all.”

Somehow, Lawrence could tell that she smiled.

She said nothing after that, so Lawrence resumed his shaving.

Still silent, Holo got to her feet behind Lawrence. When he had finished shaving, the man checked his face in the bucket’s reflection again, then scattered the water onto the plants in the courtyard. Like a butterfly flapping away after being disturbed by a human, Holo moved away from behind Lawrence.

Lawrence returned the knife to his side, and as he rubbed his cheeks, Holo wordlessly drew alongside him.

She seemed to want to hold hands.

Lawrence smiled and reached indulgently for her small one. It was just then that Col passed by the open door that faced the courtyard.

“Hn!” Holo grunted, for Col held a shallow bowl in both hands. The Beast and Fish Tail’s name seemed mighty indeed, and the innkeeper had prepared a hot breakfast for the travelers. Holo ran off as though she had been waiting for this all along, and Lawrence was left to keep his own company.

The hand he had reached out to grasp hers closed, pathetically, on empty air.

“…”

To return the grasp of an extended hand was to seal a contract between merchants. He thought about explaining this at length, but looking at the happily trotting Holo as she followed Col, he thought better of it.

Quietly, quietly, the end of their journey was approaching. If there were smiles to be had, it would be best to let them happen.

Lawrence looked up at the brilliant morning light, then followed after Holo as she hurried Col along.

Having finished breakfast, Lawrence and company ventured out into town.

Their destination was a general store run by a former mercenary named Philon, about whom Fran had told them. Evidently, despite his “general store” front, he still quietly supplied mercenary bands with goods and related services on the side.

Lawrence prided himself on having some small ability to remain calm in most situations, but this made even him nervous.

While merchants frequently claimed to be willing to throw their lives away for profit, there were in fact few who were ready to make such huge gambles. More than anything else, they knew in their hearts that bankruptcy did not mean death.

But there was no shortage of stories where mercenaries killed a merchant who had injured their pride. Given that they were not so very different from out-and-out bandits, there were surely some who would simply steal what they wanted.

It was dangerous enough to do business with mercenaries in a town like this, but there were even riskier duties. For example, the members of the mercenary troop who actually moved the goods. Once they headed out on their travels, they would become the exclusive suppliers to the avaricious mercenary bands, so as a business it was very lucrative. Mercenaries liked to spend money: They ate huge amounts, drank heavily, and would buy anything. Becoming the supplier to a troop whose star was rising and held fast for two or three years, even an apprentice just starting out could make enough money to open a shop in a town. Lawrence had heard of such things happening.

Of course, such lucrative stories always had complications. To begin with, mercenaries were an untrustworthy lot, and even supposing one found an unusually kind troop, it was not as though they could be expected to win every battle. When they lost, they would be treated just as they had treated others when they won—killed, stolen from. A mercenary merchant then faced both kinds of death, and such risk-taking men had fundamentally different ways of thinking than a traveling merchant like Lawrence.

So naturally, he was nervous.

The general store in question was situated along a lightly trafficked street and had a rather dingy facade. But its roughness gave it a rather smart, fierce aura, and as he stood before it, Lawrence took two deep breaths.

Col, too, seemed taken in by the atmosphere, and he gulped.

The only one who had not the slightest worry over mercenaries was Holo, who yawned a carefree yawn and seemed to hold an entire silent conversation with a cat curled up in a sunbeam in a corner of the street.

“Well, shall we?” Lawrence summoned his courage, walked up the steps, and reached out to open the door.

Which is when the door quite suddenly opened.

“I’ll be counting on you, then. I haven’t been able to hear a damned thing.”

“Not with that face! You should’ve hired a handsomer fellow!”

“I used to be, but my old general was a rough one!”

Amid such conversation, out from within the shop came a large, bearded man, who Lawrence could tell at a glance was a mercenary.

His gray beard burst forth like smoke from his wine-ruddy complexion, though whether it had always been that way or came with his age was impossible to tell.

He had a large scar that ran down his left cheek to his chin, which drew his left eye into a permanent squint.

Just when Lawrence noticed those blue eyes catch sight of him, the man standing opposite the big one spoke. “Oh ho, this fellow looks promising. Reckon he’ll be of use!”

“Hm? Hmmm…” The portly man leaned back thoughtfully as he listened to the other’s words, then bent forward, as though moving some great boulder, his face coming close to Lawrence’s.

He could not kill a man with a smile on his face, surely? It was a terrifying presence, more frightening than any wolf.

Trying to escape, pretending at strength, offering greetings—none of these seemed the right course of action. Lawrence simply kept silent, and tried a pleasant smile.

“Bwa-ha-ha-ha! I don’t think so, shopkeep! This one’s no good. He’s just a no-good merchant, waiting for his chance to snatch your treasures!”

It was a terribly rude thing to say, and yet strangely, Lawrence felt no malice—probably because this was a man who simply said everything that came to his mind.

“Still, you seem a splendid young fellow. Should we meet again, let’s help each other out, eh?” said the big man, patting Lawrence’s shoulder with his thick hand twice, hard, then laughing a hearty laugh as he strode away.

They had not even been introduced, but the man’s face was unforgettable. Lawrence would recognize it instantly, even on a cloudy night.

“I daresay he’d be an amusing male to share wine with sometime,” offered Holo, much to Lawrence’s chagrin.

It was then that the man standing on the other side of the shop’s doorway spoke. “Well, now,” he said, clearing his throat, “How can I be of service, my young merchant friend?”

Lawrence hastily composed himself and made his introduction.

It was dim inside the shop.

It was not as though there was much inside, but it still felt rather cramped, perhaps because the windows were so small. Only the nobility could afford to have glass windows, so most town homes covered theirs with oiled cloth or else let the light in through wooden shutters.

But the windows here seemed a mockery of the very idea of such attempts. It felt more like a storehouse than a shop.

Philon, the man who introduced himself as the shopkeeper, was a middle-aged fellow of about Lawrence’s height, and his left leg dragged a bit when he walked. If he had claimed to have once swung a sword on the field of battle, there would be no cause to doubt him.

Philon came to a table at the back of the shop and gestured for Lawrence and his companions to sit on a couch that seemed used to receiving visitors.

“It’s a shame about your timing, truly,” he said, pouring wine from a plain earthen jug into a wooden cup.

“My timing?”

“Aye. Timing is the essence of success. Unfortunately, most of the assignments were worked out last week. If you plan to stay a good long while, you could leave your life in the hands of some lead-footed band, perhaps, but…do you plan to travel with those two? The heavens will punish you for that, surely.”

It was here that Lawrence realized that Philon had misunderstood. “No, no, I’ve no intention of trying to supply any armies,” he said quickly, then laughed and added, “Nor have I come to offer services as a chaplain.”

Philon made a face, as though he had just watched a child stumble and fall in the distance. A smile then gradually appeared on his face. He shook his head, and it seemed as though he were about to complain about getting old. “That so? You’ll pardon me. I’ve been so busy with work these days. I jumped to conclusions, clearly. But…”

He paused, looking down into his cup before taking a drink. Among the traveling merchants who loved making big bets, many of them favored the same gesture while drinking.

“…If so, what brings you here? You certainly haven’t come to buy wheat, have you?”

Operating as a general store, a signboard saying as much hung from the eaves of the building. But given Philon’s words, it was clear this was no simple shop.

In the first place, in a growing town, the tendency was toward specialization, with different merchants selling different things. The cobbler sold shoes, the pharmacist medicine, and so on. Occasionally, the sheer force of money would allow a merchant to increase the types of goods he sold, and some even became more like large trading companies—but this place did not have that feel.

So there had to be a special reason for this to be a “general store.” Something such that no proper merchant would come here to buy wheat.

“Fran Vonely sent me.”

When in an unfamiliar place, it was a very heartening thing for a traveling merchant to be able to use the name of someone they knew. For the one who lent their name, it was because they had a debt they expected to be repaid, even years later. And more than the simple profit that might be had by using the name, it was the confidence that came with it that Lawrence was most grateful for. In front of him, Philon’s face drew tight at the mention of the name, in contrast to his earlier mild teasing.

He slowly put the cup down and looked Lawrence steadily in the eye. “So they’re still alive, are they?” His tone was almost reverential.

But Lawrence was not able to deliver any good news. “Just Miss Fran,” he said simply.

Philon was an experienced man. He knew what that meant.

“I see,” he murmured under his breath. He closed his eyes, as though offering a brief prayer. “Though it may be providential, it still pains me to hear it. But Lady Fran is well, is she?” His voice became brighter as he asked, and nostalgia tinged his features as he looked up.

“She sustained terrible injuries living up to her reputation…but she’ll soon recover.”

At Lawrence’s words, Philon smiled, as though terribly relieved. Even if Fran’s troop had been entirely wiped out, he seemed content that some part of their way of life yet lived on.

“So the three of you managed to live through a situation that asked some courage of her. My apologies, truly,” said Philon, as he stood and put his hand to his chest. “Let me introduce myself,” he said, as though beginning a prepared recitation. “My name is Philon Zimgrundt. As the thirteenth heir of the Zimgrundt name, I am the master of the Zimgrundt General Store.”

He offered his hand.

Lawrence took it and found, much to his surprise, that Philon’s hand was soft.

“Heh. It’s been many a century since any of the Zimgrundt name went forth into battle. Some of my more considerate customers do me the honor of calling me a former mercenary, but it’s through the grace of my ancestors who fought all across the world before settling to open this shop here that I’m able to operate. It’s their great deeds that let me conduct this strange little business of money.”

“I see,” replied Lawrence. After a polite cough, he broached the subject of his visit. “The truth is, I’m hoping to learn about conditions in the northlands.”

“The conditions,” repeated Philon, peering again into his wine cup, as though the truth of the answer he should give were somehow hiding in it. “Lady Fran certainly lent her name to a fellow with a strange question. From your appearance, I wouldn’t make you as a man who doesn’t know the value of things.”

Lawrence shrugged, and his reply came with a smile. “As you can probably tell from my two companions, my journey is a bit of a strange one.”

At that, Philon finally turned his gaze to Holo and Col. Lawrence had heard of a mercenaries’ trick—that they would bring a beautiful girl along to ensnare a merchant’s gaze, then use that to pick a quarrel with them and get a better price. Philon, too, seemed well aware of such tactics.

“Indeed. However, ‘conditions’ could mean many things. Do you want to know about the movements of the people there? Or of goods? Or of coin?”

“People—and where they’re headed.”

Philon did not so much as nod or even grunt. He remained still, looking closely into Lawrence’s eyes. Then he finally turned his gaze away, at which Lawrence could not hide his deep breath of relief.

“Where they’re headed, eh…? Ah, I see. If I’ve misunderstood, I hope you’ll forgive me,” began Philon, then leaned forward over the table before continuing. “You want to know where the attacks are happening, don’t you?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Ah. I see. So that’s why you’d use Lady Fran’s name to ask a question of me.”

Mercenaries were moved by money. And if one could see the flow of money, they could understand the motivations of whoever was pulling the strings.

Philon’s face grew hard. Lawrence swallowed and waited. He waited—for he knew how important the information he sought was.

“Still…,” murmured Philon as he stared down at the table, then up to Lawrence, then back and forth between Col and Holo. His expression was somewhere between exasperation and admiration.

“Yes…?” prompted Lawrence, unable to hide his nervousness. Thereupon Philon drew his chin in and assumed a serious posture, as though he were about to play his trump card.

“To have them both as your companions, you certainly can’t be judged by your appearance.”

“Huh?” asked Lawrence, and it was only Holo who laughed out loud.

“My, my,” said Philon with a smile, adding, “Was I wrong?”

“He’s hardly so able a man,” said Holo with a straight face, at which Philon shifted his gaze deliberately from Holo to Lawrence.

Given that Philon was used to dealing with the dog-pack-like mercenary bands, he was instantly able to apprehend just who was in charge here.

“Is that so. Still, you’d be surprised how great a general such a man can be.”

“’Tis only because they’re so busy minding everything around them, is it not?” said Holo with a fang-baring grin, at which Philon appeared genuinely surprised and smacked his own cheek.

Lawrence had no idea what they were talking about. He and Col met each other’s eyes.

“Ha-ha-ha! Well, now, I’ve certainly got some peculiar guests today. If I make light of them, they’ll get the best of me.”

Philon cleared his throat while Holo smiled happily.

Lawrence still did not understand any of this, but when he finished laughing, Philon’s face was exceedingly pleasant. “Fine, then. I’ll help you.”

“—! My thanks to you!” said Lawrence, his reflexes in that particular situation being better even than Holo’s.

Philon grinned and nodded. “I’m afraid I’ll have to add the tiresome condition that you not speak of what I tell you to anyone else. So, where is it that you want to know about? Many mercenaries are hired through landlords. And the ones giving that money to those landowners—”

“The Debau Company,” said Lawrence, at which the interrupted Philon nodded.

“Quite. However, the Debau Company is not of such a scale that it can operate on its own. They have the cooperation of the landlords. Most of the mercenaries they’ve hired are getting their provisions through me, and people in my business have good ties. I get information from other towns, from those in the same business. So…to be blunt, I’m more or less aware of which places in the northlands are safe and which aren’t.”

As Philon spoke, Holo lost the aura of nonchalance she had come in with. Now it was her turn to try to remain calm.

“The old name of the place we’re looking for is Yoitsu.”

“Yoitsu?”

Repeating what had just been said seemed to be one of the ways Philon jogged his own memory. His eyes stared into space for a moment, and immediately thereafter he spoke. “Sorry, I’ve not heard of it. Though if it’s in an old story, I may have heard that.”

“The Moon-Hunting Bear.”

“Ah, yes. More than a few mercenary bands use a picture of it on their standards. Perhaps it’s the name of a town or village destroyed by the great beast. I’ve forgotten where I heard this, but…since there are many mercenaries from the northlands, I might have heard it from one of them. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” said Philon, seeming genuinely apologetic.

“Actually,” said Lawrence immediately, “we’ve asked Fran to draw us a map of the northlands, including Yoitsu. Once it arrives, we should know the current location of wherever Yoitsu was.”

Philon’s reply was quick. “You gained her trust so quickly—!”

Evidently, that was the most surprising aspect of all.

Lawrence nodded with a somewhat abashed smile, but Philon only gave his face a good, long look. “I see…I wouldn’t mind having such a map myself! So then, you three. Have you anything else you’d like to ask?” he asked a little jokingly.

Lawrence smiled and looked over at Col. “In that case, what of the village of Pinu?”

It was Col who found this question the most surprising.

Although Col was concerned about Holo’s homeland, he was still more worried about his own, and though he tried to hide this within himself, Lawrence was well aware of the boy’s true feelings. Because after all, just as any purchase of goods required an exchange, information had a price, too. And Col had nothing to pay with.

Col’s face took on an expression of utter shock, but as Philon looked back and forth between Col and Lawrence, he seemed very pleased indeed. “That I can tell you right off. It’s close to a village that a parish in the east dispatched soldiers to, some years back. The region’s thick with skilled hunters, some of whom joined bands here and there. For a major push into the hard north country, they would need a confident foothold, and that was one of the likely places for it. None of those men are stupid enough to destroy their own homes, and mercenaries are surprisingly respectful of the homes of their comrades. So for the time being, Pinu’s safe.”

Philon directed this information not to Lawrence, but to Col. He used simple words and spoke slowly.

If the couch he was sitting in had not had a back, Col’s slump of relief might well have sent him tumbling over backward.

“Ha-ha-ha, though I don’t know how much use to you any of that is.”

“No, thank you, truly,” said Lawrence. When Col hastily tried to offer his own thanks, the words choked up in his throat.

Holo stood from her seat, unconcerned, then sat down again next to Col. In times like these, nothing was as comforting as her smile could be.

“So we’ll talk again about Yoitsu when your map arrives, shall we?”

“It seems so, yes.”

“Understood. Now then, have you arranged your lodging? There hasn’t been much snow this year, so there are more travelers than normal. Most places are full by now, and you may be unable to find accommodations.”

“We’ve no worries on that count. The Beast and Fish Tail sent us to Eunice’s inn.”

“Oh ho. You’re no ordinary traveling party, that’s for sure,” said Philon, stroking his beard.

Lawrence had not known there were no vacancies in the inns, but it was true they had managed to secure exceptional boarding. Just as he was thinking he would need to give thanks for that later, Philon grinned and spoke up.

“It’s no easy thing to get in the good graces of the barmaid there.”

How did he know? Lawrence immediately thought, at which Philon grinned and elaborated.

“The innkeeper at Eunice’s place is a widower, you see. He’s rather soft on that particular barmaid, so if she asks, he’ll kick someone out just to open up a room for her.”

Lawrence smiled in understanding. Evidently the barmaid was even more devilish than Holo could be.

“Well, it seems I wasn’t much able to help you. Even if you’d needed a room, I don’t know that I could’ve arranged it for you.”

“Still, you’ve probably left an impression of someone who helped me a great deal.”

This general store owner, the descendant of mercenaries, had a surprisingly gentle smile. “Quite so! I’d certainly like a copy of that map. I wonder how I might manage it…,” Philon said as he held his cheek in his hand, elbow on the table.

If he had really been angling for the map, he would not be acting the way he was. He’s a good merchant, Lawrence thought to himself.

“In any case, once the map arrives, come visit again.”

“I shall. And I’ll see if I can’t find other favor to ask of you, as well.”

“By all means, please do.”

Lawrence stood and shook Philon’s hand again. Philon shook not just Lawrence’s hand, but Col’s and Holo’s as well.

Just as Lawrence said, “Well, then,” and was about to bring the encounter to an end, there was a knock at the door.

“Good grief. So busy today!”

“I should think that’s a good thing.”

“So it is.” Philon waved to Lawrence and his companions, then called out past them in a loud voice, “The door’s open!”

Lawrence stood aside and opened the door, thinking to first let in whoever it was. Thereupon, however, the figure on the other side also tried to open the door, but instead his large, round body stumbled through it and he gave a loud “Wah!”

Lawrence was at the door, and Philon at his table with his wine; both their eyes went wide in surprise.

The big man who had fallen face-first on the floor had a mountain of goods on his back.

“Oh. Here I was wondering who it could be, but it’s you, Le Roi,” said Philon, looking down at the man. He was wriggling comically, even clownishly, under his load of goods.

But Philon did not appear inclined to help. With nothing else to do, Lawrence helped the man to his feet. From the smell of dust on him, he must have just arrived in town.

“Ouch! My apologies, sir.”

“Not at all. Are you all right?”

The man called Le Roi nodded abashedly and repeatedly in response to Lawrence’s question, all while skillfully regaining his feet underneath a collection of goods nearly as big as he was. He might have appeared to be fat, but evidently he was just well built.

“Still, now you’ve come all the way out here, too, and your timing’s no good, either,” said Philon.

“Huh?”

“You heard the rumors of war and came here with a sackful of scriptures, am I right? Unfortunately, those who would’ve wanted them have already packed their things and headed north.”

His face half-blackened with road dust, Le Roi seemed stunned at the merciless words and sat right back down on the spot.

Scriptures—that meant he was a bookseller…

In any case, this was the sort of thing that was the constant nightmare of all traveling merchants. Lawrence was sympathetic.

Le Roi waved both hands unrestrainedly in the air. “Damn you, God! Have you any idea how I suffered to bring these here?!”

Philon bared his teeth in a great grin as Le Roi flailed his arms about like a petulant child. His feelings were understandable, but Le Roi’s display was certainly an exceptional one. Such humor could easily endear one to others. He probably traded on this.

Lawrence was smiling, too, but then he realized that Philon’s gaze was on the doorway. Immediately thereafter, a noble, dignified voice rang out.

“Blame your own avarice before you lay responsibility at God’s feet.”

A small-framed person entered the shop.

It was hard to imagine a person less suited to the surroundings. The person who had crossed the threshold with such words was clearly of the Church and dressed in a nun’s clothing to boot.

But that was not what widened Lawrence’s eyes.

Entering the door, the person soon took note of Lawrence and his companions. She calmed her expression so as not to appear surprised. And then, with eyes as sharp as they ever were, she spoke.

“Quite a coincidence.”

On that count, Lawrence was in total agreement. “Indeed it is,” he said. This girl had always been difficult for him, but he forced her name out after a cough. “It has been a while, Miss Elsa.”

Her pulled-back hair and honey-colored eyes that betrayed no emotion were just as they had been. Her cheeks were a bit sunken, perhaps owing to the unfamiliar travel. Out from under her overcoat peeked her nun’s robes, once dyed a deep black but now whitish with dust.

And yet her tone betrayed no fatigue; she was admirable, if stubbornly so.

“What, you two know each other?” Le Roi watched Elsa’s and Lawrence’s greetings as though they were a scene out of a stage play, his face shifting busily to and fro between them.

“He once came to my village’s aid.”

“Oh ho!” Le Roi’s mouth opened in surprise so widely that it thinned even his puffy cheeks. “So you’re from Tereo as well, then, sir?” he asked, looking up to Lawrence. He was a bit shorter than Lawrence to begin with, and his heavy burden caused him to stoop over.

“No, I just happened to be passing through and was able to be of some small assistance.”

“Oh ho, I see. My goodness.” Every bit of Le Roi’s exaggerated bumbling seemed to be quite on purpose. But there was no telling what hid behind the act of such a merchant. Many acted this way because they were fully aware of how sly they would appear otherwise.

Of course, there was no way of knowing whether Le Roi was such a man or not, but that was no reason for Lawrence to let his guard down. Lawrence smiled pleasantly, declining to say anything further. It was Philon who ended up speaking next.

“This is a general store, not a tavern. Might I ask you to celebrate your reunion elsewhere?”

At the cold exasperation in his words, Le Roi looked to Philon and smacked his own cheeks in chagrin. “Ah, apologies!”

Elsa was not the effusive type, and she said nothing further to Lawrence or his companions.

But given that Holo did not seem to be expressing any irritation at Elsa’s quietness, she must have realized that the girl was more exhausted from her travels than anything else.

“And your companion appears to be quite tired. You ought to secure lodgings before venturing out again, hmm?” said Philon. He had dealt enough with those who lived by travel to know what such exhaustion looked like.

Elsa merely stood there, neither refuting nor confirming this, but Le Roi nodded again in that exaggerated way of his. “You’re quite right, quite right indeed! We came here without even changing out of our travel clothes.”

Lawrence did not fail to notice the look of worry that passed over Philon’s face. The only reasons you went directly to a trading partner without even stopping to change clothes were because you were uncommonly close to them or because you were in trouble.

In this case it was surely the latter, which Le Roi immediately confirmed. “Might you arrange a room for us?”

Philon did not hide his look of irritation, and he took a long breath in through his nose. “You’ve bad timing.”

The merciless words were delivered with exquisite precision.

“Wh—come now, Mr. Philon. Don’t be so heartless! We don’t need a fancy room, you know. I’ve asked at inns all over the city. I don’t mind being put alongside my goods somewhere, but my companion”—said Le Roi, pausing to grab Elsa’s shoulders with his hands and shove her forward, as though he were a livestock owner showing off a prize hen—“I can’t let such a fate befall her, you see.”

Elsa, meanwhile, wore a look of terrible embarrassment, while Philon looked flatly irritated.

If Le Roi was determined to be so blunt, it would be ultimately impossible to refuse him. Moreover, he was not actually asking an unreasonable thing, so it was not going to be much of a black mark on his reputation. After all, no matter how much the stubborn Elsa might try to hide her fatigue, anyone who looked at her could tell that what she needed was a good rest in a proper bed.

Also, unlike Holo, Elsa was not traveling as a nun as a matter of practicality, which was quite plain to see. Le Roi knew perfectly well how to use the perception others would likely have of her.

If Holo had been a tough middle-aged man, she might have been something like him.

“Still, my storehouses and rooms are all packed full with goods. The apprentices are having to wedge themselves into the gaps to sleep. And if they don’t work, there’s no telling what they’ll use their pent-up energy for.” Philon looked through half-lidded eyes at Elsa, who Le Roi had pushed forward. “I can’t allow harm to come to one of God’s lambs in the night.”

There was neither pretense nor affectation in these words, and even Elsa stiffened a little upon hearing them.

With his hands on her shoulders, Le Roi could hardly fail to notice this. He moved to stand in front of Elsa, as though Philon were one of the starving beasts of which he himself spoke.

“I don’t care what happens to me. But please, just for her…”

“It’s for her sake that I am saying this.”

“Oh, God! Please forgive this merciless man!” cried out Le Roi theatrically, but given that he himself had cursed God just moments earlier, the words did not carry much weight.

Philon sighed a long-suffering sigh, while Col looked taken aback at the strange newcomer. Holo was the only one who appeared amused.

The situation felt more intractable than ever, and Lawrence finally gave in and spoke. “If you don’t mind the room where we’re staying…”

“Wha—” Holo began to protest, but then realized the stinginess such a protest would reveal on her part and hastily shut her mouth. Nonetheless, her eyes stared accusingly at Lawrence.

By contrast, Philon appeared as though the problem had been taken off his hands in the best possible way, and Col smiled, since they had been able to help people who were clearly in trouble.

And as for Le Roi, he made a face as though his savior had descended into a hell where the land had split and the seas had dried, just to save him. “Oh! Oh, what a wonderful person! God’s blessings will surely be upon your head…!”

Le Roi’s words trailed off there, and it was not clear whether or how he meant to continue. It was clear enough that he did not much care whether Lawrence was listening or not.

It was finally Elsa who interrupted Le Roi’s hearty shaking of Lawrence’s hand, and she did not mince words.

“We have no means to repay you,” she said, and the look in her eyes as she stared up at Lawrence was very nearly hostile.

But Lawrence had had a good hard look at the hardships Elsa faced back in Tereo. While they had managed to overcome their problems with Holo’s help, the villagers would surely not have been able to let their guard down in the aftermath.

She might be so poor that they could turn her upside down and shake her and not a single coin would fall to the ground.

Lawrence decided to pay such forthrightness the respect it deserved. “I believe they say good deeds done here on earth will store up wealth in heaven, do they not?”

Elsa was flustered by this, but managed an answer. “One cannot carry one’s coin purse through the gates of heaven, after all.”

“If so, I’d best make myself into a shape better suited to fit through, I should think.”

For a moment, Elsa made a face as though she had swallowed something bitter.

For someone as destitute as her to stay in the inn room of another, it would mean imposing upon them for more than simply accommodations. There would be meals to consider, for one. Lawrence and company were not so heartless that they would dig into their meals while those sitting beside them had nothing.

Elsa was well aware of that and knew also that Lawrence and his companions were extending such a helping hand to her, and it surely pained her.

But thanks to a certain close-at-hand traveling companion of his, Lawrence was well used to dealing with those who found it difficult to accept generosity. “Of course, in this life, I’ll expect what I lend to be repaid.”

In times like these, it was often good to lighten the mood with a joke.

Elsa was no fool, and at this merchant’s consideration for her feelings, she finally offered a faint smile. “We shall impose upon you, then,” she said, and like the devout priestess she was, she clasped her hands and bowed her head, presumably offering a prayer.

Next came the smart sound of clapping hands.

It was none other than Le Roi, looking for all the world like a satisfied matchmaker at a wedding. “Well, well, this certainly is a burden off my chest! Splendid, splendid!”

“I suppose I ought to help as well. If it’s just you, sir, you may stay here,” said Philon, indicating the surface of his desk—though surely he was not saying that Le Roi ought to sleep on the desk itself. “There may well be others who come staggering drunkenly in, but as long as you don’t mind them…”

“Of course not! Ah, God’s will be done! Surely His blessings will be upon your head, Mr. Philon—”

Philon made a distasteful face and waved his hands as though shooing a dog away. Le Roi, however, did not seem particularly offended by this.

After this, he explained that Elsa’s belongings were on a mule outside, so the two went out together.

Lawrence briefly gave his regards to Philon and was about to leave the shop when he noticed Holo, still entirely put out.

“Displeased?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I wouldn’t say I’m displeased,” pouted Holo.

Lawrence found himself smiling at the exchange, which reminded him of another they had shared—when he had asked if she minded whether a certain shepherdess traveled with them to the city.

At the time, he had mistaken her anger to mean that she wanted to travel with him and him alone, just the two of them. In the end, she had seen through his misunderstanding and teased him mercilessly for it.

So what would happen now?

In the few seconds it took to descend the stone steps from the shop, Lawrence gazed at Holo’s irritated profile, then finally spoke. “So you’ve no problem at all, then?”

Holo stopped mid-descent. Col was following immediately behind her and, unable to stop in time, ran right into her.

Pushed by Col, Holo took another step forward, but nonetheless did not look away from Lawrence.

“I-I’m sorry…?” said Lawrence.

Continuing to stare at Lawrence, Holo took Col’s hand and very purposefully interlaced her fingers with his. “Just as you said, I’ve no problem at all.”

She finished by sticking her tongue out at him, then walking off, pulling Col along with her.

Le Roi looked up as he noticed the two, then looked over to Lawrence.

“They’re heading back to the inn room to tidy up ahead of us,” said Lawrence. There was no reason to doubt it.

Le Roi nodded. “You’ve taught them well,” he said, impressed.

Elsa, unloading her things from the mule, paused at hearing those words. She turned her amber eyes to Lawrence. “Is that so…?”

Hey now, thought Lawrence, until the impossible hit him: She was attempting to make a joke.

Just as meeting Fran had profoundly affected Col, Elsa, too, seemed to have changed since they had last met. Or perhaps this was a face that Evan the miller saw frequently.

Lawrence’s idle musings were cut off by Elsa saying, “I’m ready.”

Most of the mule’s load had been unloaded, and just as Lawrence was wondering if he would be able to handle it all himself, he saw Elsa take up a small shoulder bag.

Evidently it had been packed away in the very back of the luggage.

Given the size of the bag, it probably held things that Elsa could not afford to lose—parchments with certifications on them and letters from noblemen in various places.

Holo was traveling as a nun, but a true woman of the cloth had a different sort of aura about her.

“Well, shall we go?” said Lawrence.

“I leave myself in your care,” said Elsa, her eyes as stern as ever.