Spice and Wolf - Volume 14 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning, the four of them took breakfast together.

While it was quite normal for travelers to have a meal before setting out for the day, for Elsa it was a wild luxury.

As a compromise, they ate dark rye bread and a few beans. To slake their thirst, she permitted some watery wine.

“Now then, about what we’ll do next,” started Lawrence, and everyone’s gaze focused on him, save Holo. “We’ll make preparations today and tomorrow, and so leave the day after tomorrow at the earliest. Today, I’ll first go to Mr. Philon’s place and work some details out with him and Mr. Le Roi.”

Col nodded to prove that he was listening, and Lawrence directed his next words to Elsa. “It would be good if you came along, too, Miss Elsa, and talked about your own plans for what’s to come.”

Elsa cut even the hard rye bread up, rather than tearing into it, and brought bites politely to her mouth without dropping a single crumb. She treated it as though it were some sort of ritual practice in the concentration of her mind, but amazingly, she had no trouble listening to the conversation around her as she did so. “Very well. I need to send a letter to the village as well, so I’ll ask their help in that.”

Lawrence nodded and turned to Holo, who, like a child, was tossing beans up one by one into the air and catching them in her mouth. “And what will you do?”

Holo had just tossed aloft another bean, and her fangs showed as she opened her mouth to catch it. Her gaze moved from the bean to Lawrence, but moments later, the bean still landed perfectly in her mouth. She chewed it up, crunching, and washed it down with the thinned wine. “So long as you don’t mind me creating new legends about a giant wolf, I’ve nothing much else to do.”

Now that she knew the direction and location, it would be safer and faster for Holo to travel as a wolf. There was no reason for her to go all the way over to Philon’s to hear about the conditions on the human road.

“So long as you don’t mind me speaking as though I know the truth of the legend,” said Elsa, smiling with only her mouth. She returned to her meal, earning a wrinkled nose from Holo.

Lawrence sighed and looked over at the table, whereupon was neatly spread the map.

“Still, ’twould be boring to stay here alone.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Thereafter, each of them finished their breakfast. Elsa cleared her throat and began to teach Col about some finer point of scripture, Holo tended to her tail grooming, and Lawrence decided he might as well trim his beard while he was in a town.

There would likely be trouble upon arriving in Kieschen and difficult preparations in the meantime.

In light of that, the quiet serenity of the water well in the inn’s courtyard, lit by the morning sun, was a precious thing indeed. The far-off sounds of the busy town gave the quiet a different feeling than the silence of a forest or field.

Lawrence had loved this quiet when he had traveled alone and had come to appreciate it even more since that time had ended.

Would he be able to continue on like this? He smiled a self-reproaching smile at the thought. He would probably abide. He would have to—and anyway, as he told himself before, this was not their final parting.

His worry was purely of his own creation.

“…Well, then.” He brushed his hands free of crumbs.

The day had begun.

Lawrence had assumed that a shop catering to mercenaries would be mostly idle in the morning, but he was mistaken.

While the mercenaries themselves were certainly snoring loudly away in their wagon beds, the men around them were hurriedly buying up supplies. By their aura and manner of speaking, Lawrence at first took them as musicians, but apparently they were merchants who had spent their entire lives running their shops on the world’s battlefields. Their cheerful demeanor came from their having long ago lost any fear of death whatsoever.

“Today I’ve only got one more troop coming by. When things are bad, it’ll be ten or twenty in a single day,” said Philon, shamelessly draining the contents of a cup that had been left on the table.

When the merchants had left, it was terribly quiet, like a storm had passed through the shop.

“So, many mercenaries come through?” asked Lawrence, surprised, and the general store owner chuckled knowingly.

“The bills are always made out to some big lord somewhere. If you’re well-known and have a lot of territory, you can turn a hefty profit buying in one place and selling it off elsewhere.”

It seemed likely that Philon had taken advantage of the situation in Lenos and done some speculation himself, but Lawrence said nothing.

No matter who was making what profit, as long as things were moving, there was no problem.

“So, then, what can I do for my extended family here.”

“The map from Miss Fran has arrived,” said Lawrence, and Philon’s face lit up with excitement that was obvious even in the dim shop.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!”

He held out his hand in anticipation of Lawrence giving it to him. But Lawrence had very purposefully not brought it with him.

In the silence that fell over Philon’s own, Holo chuckled.

“So about the Tolkien region.”

“Ah, there’s a nice place,” said Philon, sitting in a chair he produced from somewhere and taking up a quill pen. “Bit large, though.”

Even on the map, Yoitsu had only been one small part of Tolkien. But once she made it to the region, Holo’s sense of smell would surely lead her the rest of the way.

“There was a little village there. Less a village, really, than a group of shelters for woodsmen and hunters to stay in.”

“And the name?” It was Holo who asked.

Elsa and Col were gazing at the swords on the walls and the parchment bundles on the shelves with intense interest, respectively, but simultaneously looked over at Holo when she spoke.

“It didn’t have a name. Isn’t really the kind of place you give a name. Did someone tell you they were born in Tolkien?”

Yoitsu, Holo was about to reply, but after a moment’s movement of her lips, she said nothing and merely nodded.

“For people from around here, the name Tolkien doesn’t mean much more than deep forests and mountains. Whoever it was ought to be proud they were born in such grand wilderness, I’d say.”

Philon’s tone was light, as though trying to emphasize that it was not worth thinking too deeply over.

But far from relaxing, Holo’s face became even sharper. “Are the forests and mountains there yet bountiful?” She spoke slowly and distinctly, as though emphasizing each word.

Philon tapped his quill pen in his opened ledger, then rested his chin in his palm and regarded Holo. “Absurdly so. The word is that the deer are huge.”

“And wolves?”

“Wolves?”

Holo looked intently at Philon. The silence that followed was unnerving for those who knew her true form.

Philon suddenly looked up to the ceiling, drawing Lawrence’s gaze with it. “The area’s thick with fierce wolves.”

Holo drew a long breath, and her small body grew larger with it.

If Lawrence had dared to point out that she seemed about to cry, she would have surely denied it with fangs bared.

“Many of the mercenaries imagine themselves to be descended from wolves. And if you did have an ancestor among the wolves of Tolkien, I’m sure it would make you braver on the battlefield.”

If a human was the child of something other than a human, it had to be God. Thus was the teaching that the Church spread, and even though Elsa was right there, Philon was speaking of such things as if they were common knowledge.

Elsa made no indication of any concern.

A man who made it his business to trade with mercenaries would have a keen grasp of what different sorts of people held dear.

“Are you…?” began Philon, but then suddenly stopped. If she was born in the north, but had come from the south, with her birthplace unknown, then the chance that the secret of her birth was a happy one was exceedingly low. He must have realized that.

“In any case, you’re headed to Kieschen, yes? Or will some of you remain here or maybe make for Tolkien?”

“We plan to go to Kieschen. Would you tell us the way to Tolkien from there? Unless you think we’d be better served by asking once we arrive in Kieschen.”

Philon waved his hand to suggest that would not be necessary. He then closed his eyes, scratched his chin with his quill pen, and spoke. “Between Kieschen and the Tolkien region there’s a path called the fur road. It’s a common enough name, but it’s the most important and profitable path for the fur trade in the area. It ought to be passable so long as it’s not snowed in. On the way, you’ll probably run into the territory of the Bruner mercenary band. I’ll write you an introduction letter. If anything happens, you’ll never find a more reliable band.”

There was no way to tell whether Philon suddenly had sympathy for Holo’s birth circumstances or was trying to butter Lawrence up in order to get a look at Fran’s map. It was probably both, but there was no reason to refuse such a letter.

“My thanks,” said Lawrence, since Holo seemed at a loss for words.

What had been merely old memories and tales had accumulated and finally become a map. Now that it had a form, the rest was so simple.

The path to Yoitsu was becoming clearer and clearer.

Lawrence patted Holo’s back the way he would if she had had a bite of food stuck in her throat.

“And the two there? One was from Pinu, as I recall.” Philon pointed at Elsa and Col with his quill pen.

Col was completely incoherent, but Elsa was not the least concerned. “No, I have business with Le Roi,” she said in a cold and unwavering tone, straightening her posture.

Philon blinked in surprise, then made a great show of clearing his throat before speaking again. “I’m quite confident that anything he can do, I can do as well.”

“Is that so? In that case, I’d like to send a letter.”

Philon seemed rather taken aback by Elsa’s lack of either surprise or levity. But he managed a feeble “Ah, certainly,” at which Elsa finally smiled, a bit at a loss herself.

It seemed she had mastered an entirely different way of controlling men than Holo had. It was hard to say which was better.

“I’ve pen and paper. If you can’t write, I’m happy to take your dictation.”

“That won’t be necessary. But I’m sorry to say I have no money.”

Philon again thrust his chest out in the face of her straightforward admission. Yet he could not back out now. “I’ll send the bill for the paper to Le Roi. That’s no problem at all.”

Elsa looked evenly at Philon for a few moments. Then she gave a slow smile and said, “If you please.”

Philon feigned ignorance at Le Roi, who was running around making preparations for the journey. In fact, on the other side of the ceiling sat a mountain of goods, but he had not the slightest intention of parting with any of them.

While Elsa wrote her letter, Philon began tending to his own work, so Lawrence and the rest left the shop to bask in the sun.

There were still many people walking by, and it was certainly never boring.

“Once you find something, everything else becomes so clear,” said Lawrence.

Perhaps Col was being considerate of the two, since he crossed the street to peer into a cobbler’s workshop. He was about the age to be handling minor tasks in a workshop or trading company, after all.

Just a moment earlier the master of the shop had returned and smacked him on the head, evidently mistaking him for a lazy apprentice before Col had hastily pointed to Lawrence and Holo.

“Aye, now that we know our destination…all that’s left is to point ourselves there and put one foot in front of the other.”

They watched Col sit on the stone steps and relax, propping his elbows on his knees. He seemed sleepy, probably because the rays of the sun were warm.

“Simple and clear,” said Lawrence.

Holo closed her eyes and chuckled through her nose. “Mm. Nothing to hesitate over.”

Her clear profile was as smoothed as the just-shelled white of a boiled egg. All the problems and troubles that had tangled up with one another in her mind seemed to have been swept away, leaving it clean.

It seemed Lawrence really was the only one worried about the business of whether or not they would go to Yoitsu together.

He sighed a tired sigh to hide his frustration, then straightened and stretched. “Still, relaxing in town like this makes one reluctant to start traveling again,” he said, looking up and squinting. Holo, too, looked up, opening one eye just slightly and glancing aside at Lawrence.

“With that reasoning, I’d have to give it serious thought.”

It was too much trouble to quarrel, so Lawrence shrugged and ignored her baiting.

A goodly amount of time had passed when Elsa finished writing her letter. As logical as she was when speaking, when it came time to collect her thoughts on paper, she evidently found it much more difficult. She had ink on her face and hands, and she seemed somewhat hollowed out by the task.

“…Where did they go?”

“I gave them a few coppers and they went off to the docks. Would you like to go as well, Miss Elsa?”

Elsa shook her head wordlessly.

When Lawrence thought about it, he realized that having lived in such a small village, she had probably never had much cause to put her thoughts into written words. Just figuring out how to address Evan had probably taken a good amount of time.

Lawrence considered this as his gaze swept the room.

“Where did Mr. Philon go?” Elsa asked.

“No idea. I seem to remember him standing up from the table, but…”

Lawrence looked and saw that the door to the courtyard was partially open, and some of the light from outside was doing its best to enter the gloomy workshop. Even if Elsa was a clergy-woman, it was careless of Philon to leave the shop open with a stranger inside.

Or perhaps there was simply nothing to steal. The ultimate merchant could run a shop on nothing but credit. And with nothing but credit, there would be nothing to steal.

“Seems like we ought not to leave, then,” said Lawrence.

“…Yes, that’s true. But, er…”

“Yes?” Lawrence asked, at which Elsa’s face suddenly looked utterly exhausted. Her tone turned apologetic.

“Might I go outside to take some fresh air?”

Lawrence smiled and watched her go. The door closed with a thunk, and Lawrence was alone in the dim shop. He sat in a chair and once more looked slowly about the place.

It was not small, but neither was it spacious. There was little in the way of decoration, but no space was wasted. The table, chairs, and shelves were purely functional, and there were exactly as many of each as was necessary. It was well cleaned, but not ostentatiously polished. Nowhere was there too much of anything, nor too little. It was a very relaxed space.

Lawrence took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.

The shop was quiet. Ideal for relaxing in.

Although if such a shop were his, he would need to add a window, Lawrence mused. There would need to be a sunlit place for Holo to groom her tail, after all. As he thought more on it, Lawrence waved his hand to clear his mind of the daydream. They were becoming more frequent as the days passed, and more specific, too.

There was not anything wrong with that, per se, but it was something he had to hide so long as he traveled with Holo.

Even if she had not been a wisewolf, he had to shut away the words deep in his heart: Let’s open a shop together.

“Kieschen, eh?” he murmured with a smile. If Holo was not going to keep the promise, then Lawrence had no right to object. The resolve was hers; everyone else was merely cooperation. He would do everything he could to help her.

Lawrence had never traveled to Kieschen, but he had heard of the place. It was a well-to-do town situated atop a hill among the rolling plains. He had heard the town was filled with greenery. There were even some who spoke of it as though it were a town swallowed by forest. It would surely be a good place to show Holo and Col.

As far as Elsa went, she had been born in a village with an excellent view, so she might find Kieschen rather confining.

In any case, it seemed like a nice place, which was a relief. And being relatively close to the capital city of Endima, the wine and food ought to be good.

It would be a good place for good-byes.

Lawrence rested his cheek in his hand and spoke the words aloud. “A good place for good-byes.”

He was normally stubborn, but he wondered if that wasn’t part of his charm.

Why had Holo so easily given up on their promise? Or was the idea of ending their wonderful travels in sight of Yoitsu just too ridiculously sentimental, just as she said? Or was Lawrence the only one who thought so much of what the other was thinking?

In his memories, Holo smiled. The smile was directed at someone he did not know. It was an unfair, reactionary thought. And then—

“Oh, has the holy sister finished her writing?” Philon entered the shop, pushing the half-open door from the courtyard all the way open.

“She seemed to be having quite a bit of trouble with it.”

“Hah. That’s not such a bad thing.” He spoke so plainly that Lawrence found himself staring at Philon, finding him quite a mystery. This man who dealt with mercenaries wore a boyishly mischievous expression.

“I can’t imagine there are many happy people who are well accustomed to writing letters to their loved ones. Wouldn’t you say?”

These were the words of a man who was living his life with his eyes open. Lawrence smiled to hide his vexation, then sighed. “True enough. You want to be close to the people you love.”

Philon nodded, satisfied, and sat himself down in a chair. On the table was the letter that Elsa had written; Philon picked it up and looked it over. He was not reading it, it seemed, but rather checking to see if the ink had dried.

“So, I couldn’t help but be a little interested,” began Philon, as he folded the letter up. He spoke as though he had been having a conversation with Lawrence about something in particular, right up until that moment.

Lawrence was briefly confused. He flipped back through his memory, trying to guess at what Philon was talking about, but Philon himself cut Lawrence’s musing short.

“So I went and talked to the Delink Company myself.”

Philon had claimed to Le Roi that he could not be seen getting involved with the Delink Company. Had that been merely an excuse to turn him down? Lawrence considered that, then revised his thinking. What if it was not that, but rather that there was now some larger reason that justified the risk of contact?

“Anyhow, it turns out I got a hit.”

“…A hit?”

It was a strange word to use—it implied a sort of good fortune, but depending on the context, the meaning could change quite dramatically.

A glance at Philon’s face revealed that whatever it was, it was no good.

“My company supplies mercenary troops, and I act as a sort of agent for them at times as well. The Delink Company is the opposite. There was nothing in my ledger about any mercenaries heading for Tolkien, so I thought there might be in theirs.”

He fingered the letter pointlessly.

“Even if a troop winds up taking prisoners of war, depending on where it happens, they’ll be turned away at the gates. So when there’s a rumor of war, they’ll talk to companies ahead of time.”

“Meaning?” Lawrence replied, worried.

It might have been that Philon had been testing whether Lawrence would turn worried or not. His eyes were full of sympathy. “Meaning that in all likelihood, there’s going to be a battle for control of the Tolkien region.”

Philon had come right out and said it in this moment because he was worried there would not be another chance, no doubt. If he was a considerate man, he would not have desired to deliver such news in front of a girl like Holo. Lawrence was the same way, so there was nothing to smile about.

But now that he knew, that meant he would have to be the one to tell Holo.

Unfairly, he wanted to quarrel with Philon on those grounds alone.

“But I have no idea what the goal is. It’s just thick forests and endless mountain steppe. There are barely any villages worth naming. Or maybe they’re thinking that’s the perfect place to source slaves. Or else…” Philon’s gaze was far away. “They’ve struck a lode of ore.”

He had told Holo that the mountains and forests of Tolkien were bountiful. Given that, and given the prospect itself that Le Roi had convinced Lawrence to aid him with, anyone could have guessed what they were most concerned with.

A bitter taste filled Lawrence’s mouth, but still—it was only one possibility.

Philon seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Of course, I might be overthinking things. All the Delink Company said was that they’d received word from a mercenary troop that they might be bringing prisoners down from Tolkien.”

If a rich lode had really been discovered, the scale of operations would expand considerably. There would certainly be at least one mercenary troop willing to venture forth to a remote location to fight for nothing but money. That was the simple fact of it.

Somebody would be unlucky, of course, but Lawrence was honestly relieved.

He did not think about whether or not that went against the teachings of God.

Holo would be going to Yoitsu alone.

He wanted her to encounter as little difficulty as possible.

A masochistic smile rose to his face at his own selfishness. Then:

“Come to think of it, I think the mercenary troop in question has a wolf on its standard.”

“A wolf?”

Philon nodded and tapped at his temple with his finger. “It had a rather strange name. It’s not a big troop, but it’s been around for a long time. What was it…?” He took a moment to dust off the memories before the right one fell from his lips. “The Myuri mercenary band.”

Holo had had friends in her homeland. Lawrence had not forgotten their names: Yue, Inti, Paro—strange names, like ciphers for something. And then there was the last name that Holo had murmured: “Myuri.”

“They’re a small band, but I’ve heard they’re well disciplined. Their leader’s especially clever, it’s said. I’ve never supplied them, though, so I only know the name.”

Lawrence breathed in slowly as Philon explained, and when it was finished, he exhaled a long breath.

It was said that over the countless months and years, the fanged ones had dedicated themselves to battle, but finally lost, and become part of the earth. Many died during the battle with the Moon-Hunting Bear, and the rest died fighting humans in the aftermath. This was the story that Hugues had told them in Kerube.

Holo had made herself accept that there was no trace of the wolves that had once lived in Yoitsu, nor of their battles.

But now, as though fate were not such a cruel god after all, it seemed the wolves of Yoitsu had not been so weak.

A mercenary band flying the standard of the wolf, calling themselves Myuri and making camp near Yoitsu—this could not be mere coincidence. The simplest explanation was that Holo’s friend Myuri was still alive and, having heard of the Debau Company’s schemes, gone to occupy the homeland.

Lawrence could not imagine better news.

“Anyway, I thought this might worry your companion. Shall I try to find more information?”

Lawrence shook his head.

The Myuri mercenaries were encamped in the region of Yoitsu. Just informing Holo of that simple fact would be more than enough. He could so easily imagine her face, at a loss for words out of sheer happiness.

Being the bearer of good tidings was always a popular job. Lawrence wanted to tell her as soon as he possibly could. And yet, he realized that just as much, he did not want to tell her at all.

Because upon hearing of Myuri, Holo would surely be overjoyed. She would suppress her desire to go and see for a time, and go with him to Kieschen. But after she left Lawrence and company, she would cast her human form aside and immediately make for Yoitsu.

Lawrence would have to watch her go. He would have to imagine her reunion with them from afar, alone in the driver’s seat of his wagon. There was no way he would be present for the moment.

Once she had reunited with Myuri and had that moment of joy, would she talk about all the things she had done, the time she had been saved by a human? If Myuri did not hate humans, would Myuri be glad to hear the tale?

Lawrence did not want to imagine what would happen next:

Mercenary bands never named themselves after women.

Even if Holo and Myuri had not been lovers, he was still a wolf from her homeland, one whom she had thought long dead.

Before the two giant wolves there would be his insignificant, copper-pinching self, and it was obvious to Lawrence how ridiculous he would feel. That was no place for him. He was not optimistic enough to think so.

He wanted to raise his arms and shout, Huzzah! At least the journey had been fun.

He could only smile at that.

So Lawrence did smile, and spoke.

“The world does not always go as one would wish.”

Philon fixed Lawrence in his gaze. “You’re right about that,” he murmured with a sigh.

Perhaps the outside air had helped ease Elsa’s fatigue, for when she returned to the shop, her usual dignified air had returned. She was not the type to eavesdrop, so she had undoubtedly not heard Philon and Lawrence’s conversation. But she still seemed to sense the subtly changed atmosphere of the shop.

She looked at Lawrence with questioning eyes, but Lawrence pretended not to notice. A confession like that was not something given easily.

But if there was an answer to the question as to when to tell Holo about Myuri, asking God might not be such a bad idea, he thought.

If he told Holo as soon as she returned, her mind would surely be filled with thoughts of him. And even if it was not, it would certainly be a source of unease for her.

After all, Holo herself had said she would go with them to Kieschen, and there part ways. She could not very well just head off on her own for Yoitsu just because she learned about the Myuri mercenaries.

No—Kieschen would be the place to tell her, when they were about to part, Lawrence thought.

He really did not have much time left with her.

As shameful as he found his selfish thoughts, he wanted her attention to be on the travel that still lay before them.

The problem was whether he could hide that from Holo. It was probably impossible.

But when he considered the question of whether or not she would try to pry it out of him when she noticed he was hiding something, the answer seemed to be in the negative. Regardless of how she had been in the past, the Holo of right now might well notice him hiding something, but she would keep silent.

And when they parted ways and Lawrence told her about Myuri, she would ask why he had hidden that from her, and she would laugh and laugh.

As any merchant would, Lawrence was making the most effective, profitable plan he could. It seemed sincerely loving someone made one’s thinking faster, but turned it in the most ridiculous directions.

It had been an interesting experience, but it might be well to have this be the last, Lawrence mused, and it was as he smiled a self-reproaching smile and heaved a heavy sigh that the party returned.

“Come, we’ve brought gifts!” came the loud, cheerful words as the door opened with a slam.

Those within the shop had become used to the quiet, so the shock was all the more jarring.

In the brief moment of time it took to look up and wonder what the matter was, Col followed Holo in and set a shallow bucket filled with water on the floor. His breathing was ragged, and he sat down on the floor right there on the spot, exhausted.

The bucket had obviously been heavy for Col’s small frame, and, ignoring Lawrence’s sympathy for the lad, Holo stood there, her chest thrown out proudly.

“Look, we’ve found today’s lunch!” said Holo, whose cheeks were also red and shiny with sweat.

Lawrence approached, wondering what it could be, when his nose was assaulted by a pungent smell. Its source was soon very clear.

Within Col’s bucket swam a number of dark eels.

“Magnificent, aren’t they? We were wandering around the docks when we came upon some fool who’d tipped over a great barrel. Inside were all these eels, and they were scattered around like windblown soot!”

The exhausted Col was unable to get to his feet, so Elsa, worried, crouched down beside him to check on him. Meanwhile, Holo smiled triumphantly.

She smelled bad, and her sleeves were damp.

“Don’t tell me you stole these.”

“Fool! We were asked to help catch them, and this is our reward! I was the best at catching them. Wasn’t I?”

Prodded by Holo’s question, Col smiled a weak smile.

Philon came over as well and peered inside the bucket. They were fine eels, big and fat.

“Well…still, you ought to change your clothes,” said Lawrence.

“Mm? Oh, aye. I am a bit damp. Well, I’ll leave the preparation to you. Come, Col!” Holo chattered away, and Col, having finally caught his breath, managed to stand. Given his exhausted state, anyone watching would have wanted to stop him.

But the one who actually did was neither Elsa nor Lawrence.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha!” He laughed a boisterous, infectious laugh, head back and hands on his hips. No actor in a town square could manage such a performance as Philon did naturally in that moment. “Goodness, but you’re amusing guests indeed! Don’t worry, we’ll make ready some hot water and handle the preparation.”

“R-really?”

“If you walk around outside like that you’ll catch cold. I’ll have the lads heat a bath. As far as a change of clothes goes, hmm…,” said Philon, thinking, at which point Lawrence got some words in.

“I can get a change of clothes from the inn.”

“Hm? Oh well, let’s do that, then. In the meantime, we’ll deal with these eels. They’ll make for an unexpectedly grand lunch!”

Lawrence wondered for a moment if in taking a bath here at the shop, Holo would let her ears or tail be seen, but doubted that Holo would let such a thing happen.

Elsa had helped Col to his feet, but Holo grabbed his hand and pulled him after her as she followed Philon farther into the shop. Lawrence watched her go and sighed helplessly.

He felt foolish for worrying so much about so many things. Holo had burned his gloom away with a brightness that no gold coin could match.

Lawrence scratched his head and looked down into the bucket of eels, a small smile on his face.

“Well, then, I’m off to the inn,” he said to Elsa, who was watching Col’s bucket with concern. What stopped him just short of leaving the building was not a reply from her, but rather a statement.

“I’m coming, too!” she said, just as an eel splashed noisily in the water. She flinched away from it as though avoiding a dangerous animal and came alongside Lawrence, keeping a wide berth from the bucket.

She seemed rather scared of the eels.

“I have some spare clothes I can lend you,” she said.

Oh? thought Lawrence to himself. He was no Holo, but he had a certain ability to see through people’s lies.

But there was no reason to point it out, so he simply nodded, and the two left the shop.

Just as in any other town, the streets of Lenos had names. Every lane, big or small, had wooden signs erected, indicating that it was such-and-such street. Even the small alleys were well paved with cobblestones and had lovely wooden signs.

Lawrence was admiring one as they passed when Elsa suddenly spoke up.

“I have been thinking,” she said, almost as though talking to herself. But after a pause, she continued. “Can I be of any use to you?”

“Huh?” Lawrence thought he had misheard, but this time Elsa looked right at him and spoke very clearly.

“Can I be of any use to you? To all of you?” Her honey-colored eyes were as serious as ever. “Especially you—I know you don’t want to go to Kieschen. Am I wrong?”

Lawrence looked back into those big eyes, smiled a thin smile, and replied. “That’s a surprising offer.”

He anticipated her anger, but Elsa’s way of being angry was not what he expected. “It is not at all surprising.”

She looked steadily back at him.

The street was crowded, and if she kept walking along while looking aside at him, she would have easily been run over by a wagon. Before replying, Lawrence pulled her out of the way as a cart rumbled by, taking no notice of the pedestrian traffic as it went.

“It is surprising,” said Lawrence. Pulled close like this, Holo would have pretended bashfulness or looked up at him winsomely, but Elsa did neither. Of course she would not, Lawrence admitted to himself, but he wondered if Evan the miller knew better and felt a moment of manly frustration.

“I owe you a debt, you see,” said Elsa.

From the conversation at the inn, Elsa seemed to have simply drawn some conclusions. The source of the distress between Lawrence and Holo was because they could not be in two places at once.

But if Elsa could be in one of those places, she could help solve the problem—it seemed an oversimple, childish idea, but more than that, it was a very clear, Elsa-like proposal.

However, even if the Delink Company had not insisted on certain conditions, it would still not have been a solution. No matter how optimistically Lawrence regarded her, Elsa was not suited for the combat of trade.

“I’m very grateful that you would offer,” said Lawrence with a smile. He did not give his reason for refusing, because it was true that he was grateful.

Despite all her quarreling with Holo, Elsa showed no trace or hint of a grudge. Even merchants, who would cooperate with their mother’s worst enemy if it were in their own interest, were rarely so magnanimous.

“I see…,” said Elsa, nearly sighing her deep disappointment.

“Might I ask why you offer?” Lawrence asked, though it might have been a pointless question. Elsa’s strong faith in the teachings of God might mean that helping others was simply a matter of course for her.

But his merchant’s intuition compelled him to ask anyway. His ears were even better than Holo’s when it came to sensing whether someone was being truly selfless. He guessed there might be a reason other than pure selfless kindness for Elsa to make such an offer.

And just as he guessed, she replied without anger. “First, I’ve been turned away by the church here.”

Undoubtedly the church in Lenos had no time for people like Elsa, after the fur riots. Before Lawrence could offer any words of comfort, Elsa made a troubled face and continued. “The second reason is…that we’re alike.”

“Alike?” Lawrence was surprised by this unexpected statement.

Elsa nodded and turned her head to face him. “Our true feelings are obvious, yet we both insist on putting on such great facades of responsibility.” She had the face of a great priest, one who could peer into another’s heart, see the pain that lurked there, and bring them comfort in its stead.

Lawrence hastily averted his eyes. He had the feeling that everything inside him was being discovered through and through.

“I left my village with just that facade. I can’t say I don’t have experience with it,” said Elsa, then looked ahead again.

Surprised, Lawrence regarded her profile. “But finding a priest for your village is a proper reason, isn’t it?”

“It is. And yet…” Elsa seemed conflicted. But it was not in the girl’s nature to remain indecisive. “Mr. Lawrence.”

She looked up at him and said his name. Her face had a vulnerability to it she would never show him in the village of Tereo. It seemed as though she wanted to confess some sin and that Lawrence was the only person she could tell. At the very least, as an older man, perhaps he could give her some perspective.

“This is something I should confess only to God.”

Lawrence met Elsa’s pained gaze with a smile. “Do not worry. I have every intention of reaching the kingdom of heaven, so I’ll pass your message along.”

It was a good joke coming from a stingy merchant like him, and Elsa smiled a strange, exhausted smile.

But as a joke, it seemed to have had its intended effect.

Elsa turned forward and rubbed her face, then looked down. She murmured a quick prayer before composing herself. “The reason I am searching for a priest to take charge of the church in my village is because I do not wish to hold the position.”

Lawrence knew he could not betray surprise. A confessor’s role was only to listen. He took a breath. “And?” he prompted quietly.

“Despite my position, I’ve had a faint wish.” Elsa looked up, suddenly seeming appropriately fragile for a girl her age. She seemed on the verge of tears, and her usual flush of spirited strength was nowhere to be seen.

Elsa would never have shown this face to a stranger. The only other one who would have ever glimpsed it would have been Evan the miller. And as soon as the thought came to him, Lawrence realized the truth.

She gripped tightly the hand-carved seal that she wore about her neck. The seal given to her by someone close to her when she had left the village.

“If possible, my wish is to…someday make Evan my—”

Lawrence did not allow her to continue further. He put his finger to her mouth and, with a sigh, spoke. “You should speak the rest of that sentence not to me, but to him.”

The clergy were not allowed to marry.

But if there was a church in a town, then someone had to be in its employ. Elsa had taken that duty all by herself, but it had never been her wish to remain alone.

The facade and the truth.

Knowing Elsa had heard his conversation with Holo and that she realized how similar they were made Lawrence feel too ashamed to look her in the eye.

“But if that’s how you’ve always felt…” Trying to preserve his dignity as the older man in the conversation, Lawrence looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath.

After a span of time, Elsa seemed much calmed. “It makes me very happy. Just the sentiment alone is enough.” She looked at him with an expression that made Lawrence rue his own powerlessness.

So he added something. “We merchants are very harsh about borrowing and lending. We don’t say such things lightly.”

A merchant would happily squeeze debt from a family member. Lawrence thought about saying so but decided there was no need.

Elsa nodded as though forcing herself to accept his words, then smiled awkwardly.

The bell signaling midday rang a series of irregular strikes. Lawrence spoke only after the echo of the bell’s toll had faded into the sky.

“Still, your relationship with him was rather obvious, I must say.”

Elsa looked up at Lawrence with eyes wide in surprise. “Did you suppose that we were trying to hide it?”

That in and of itself was a surprise, as Lawrence’s wry smile made quite clear.

But as Lawrence smiled, beside him Elsa cleared her throat. Lawrence looked, and it seemed as though she were brushing away the embarrassment of her confession and purposefully resuming her serious face.

“So, even if I cannot directly solve your problem, I am still clergy. If someone is hiding pain in their heart, I can at least listen to their troubles. After all…” Elsa’s expression hardened. “…I confessed my heart.”

She was a clumsy bargainer. But for the straightforward Elsa, it was a good try.

And it was true—she had told him about Evan, and her desire to give solace to anyone suffering in the gap between their heart and their facade was a sincere one.

“You’re right.” Lawrence raised his hands in surrender.

Elsa cleared her throat again. “To be blunt, the way you two act is unnatural.”

Having it thrown in his face so directly made Lawrence feel a touch irritated. “I’m a human, and she’s a wolf. There’s nothing ‘natural’ about it,” he replied.

Elsa drew a sharp breath at these words, but pressed on nonetheless. “That is not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?” Lawrence immediately replied.

“Why should two lovers not hold hands?”

Hearing this, Lawrence froze in his tracks. And not out of anger.

He was shockingly embarrassed, and his hand came up to cover half his face.

“I simply can’t understand it. You say she’s a wolf, but there are many such stories in the books my father left behind, so…”

Lawrence held up his other hand in an attempt to get Elsa to stop. He was too humiliated to so much as look at her. He stared off into the distance, waiting for his pounding heart to slow down.

Holo had made fun of him for being “girlish,” but he was suddenly shocked to realize how pure and naive he truly was.

“…Pardon me,” Lawrence managed with the last of his merchant’s composure, and then he just stood there for a moment. For the first time, he knew the destructive power that words like “two lovers” could have when used outside of a poem.

“N-now you see, Miss Elsa, that we live here in reality. Just as we cannot exist in two places at once, solving our problem is not so simple as joining hands.”

On that count, Holo’s reasoning for going with him to Kieschen was perfect. It was so logical that any merchant the world over would applaud its correctness.

“If that’s so, why won’t you fight for it? You say that without having even tried! You—”

“—!” Lawrence himself did not know the nature of the verbal explosion he had just swallowed down. But his hand had reached out and grabbed Elsa’s robe by the collar.

“…My apologies,” he said, immediately coming to his senses and releasing her.

Instead of fixing her clothing, Elsa gave Lawrence a sharp glare. But her anger was not at his outburst, but rather that, despite the intensity of his words, he was still hiding his true feelings behind his own facade.

“I have tried…to fight.”

“Truly?” shot back Elsa.

“Truly or not…that I don’t know.” Lawrence walked on, leaving the flustered Elsa aside. Her face still a mask of disbelief, she trotted to catch up to him. “What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’?”

“I mean exactly that. Of course I want to go with her to our original destination. I want to go to her homeland. But the circumstances won’t allow that. And the logical course of action is to do as she says. It’s best for her, and it’s best for me. And it’s best for Col.”

The words the adult decision had a nice ring to them.

Elsa seemed about to say something in response to Lawrence’s remarks, but in the end she stopped herself. She looked down, frustrated and pained.

Lawrence himself thought he ought to go to Yoitsu with Holo. No, not thought—wished. But it was impossible to overturn Holo’s reasoning. If he did, it would be astonishingly selfish of him, and he could not imagine that Holo would be pleased by such selfishness.

Throwing everything recklessly away and getting a tidy, happy ending only ever happened in stories. In reality, life had to continue.

Holo had spoken with a tired smile on her face—living involved a lot of time. Life was too long to throw everything away just for one moment.

Lawrence and Elsa walked wordlessly along, and finally the inn came into view. The first floor was filled with craftsmen taking their lunch and travelers, too. There were many faces, some happy, some not.

“Life has ups and downs” was not a mere figure of speech. It was reality. Not everything went smoothly, and if one did not compromise somewhere, they would never get through it.

All heroes had to face many difficulties and countless dangers—but not everyone who faced difficulty and danger became a hero.

Most of them just died along the way.

Lawrence was a traveling merchant. No one would ever fault him for being extremely cautious, and cautious he ought well be.

Lawrence quietly climbed the stairs. He heard no creaking floorboards, but given the small footfalls behind him, Elsa was following him up.

Seen from the outside, he was surely a pathetic sight. Perhaps too pathetic to leave alone.

But this was the way of the world.

Lawrence allowed himself to feel at least a little self-pity as he murmured the words in his heart and smiled a sad, tired smile.

“Can there not be a miracle?” came Elsa’s short, sharp words.

“Can there not be a miracle?” she said again, as Lawrence looked over his shoulder.

Elsa had stopped on the stairs, looking up at Lawrence, who was about to round the landing.

“You and she came to our village and created a miracle, which saved us all. Can you not…” Elsa swallowed her words and seemed to be holding back tears. “If a miracle cannot save you as well, then how can I go on teaching the word of God?”

Her honey-colored eyes looked up at Lawrence, penetrating, but there was no trace of anything like hostility in them.

Lawrence scratched his head and averted his eyes. Elsa was wholly and completely, from the bottom of her heart, a servant of God.

“I know it’s selfish of me to say so, I know that, but—”

“No, you haven’t said anything wrong or mistaken. It’s simply that we, or at least I, am not a pure enough soul to be saved by a miracle,” said Lawrence, stepping down the stairs and crouching down in front of Elsa. He reached out and straightened the collar that his earlier violence had set askew.

Elsa did not try to brush him away or show any sign of disgust. She merely watched him.

“It turns out, the Myuri mercenaries are close to her homeland.”

Her face turned confused, as though wondering what he was getting at. Lawrence checked her left and right lapels for evenness, then flattened them with a pat, at which Elsa did not so much as flinch.

“Myuri, you see,” he continued, “is the name of someone my companion separated from, centuries ago in her homeland. Someone she thought long dead.” Lawrence had turned his back to her, so he did not know what happened next.

But it seemed to Lawrence that her expression did not change very much.

“He’s probably alive, though. She doesn’t know yet. I’m going to tell her in Kieschen, when we part ways.”

“Why?” came the short demand from behind him.

“Because I want her to concentrate on the journey with me until then. A mercenary band would never name themselves after a woman. It’s ridiculous, but I’m jealous. We’ve gotten this far, I may as well confess it.”

Lawrence put his hand out to the room’s door and looked back at Elsa.

“I wished that Myuri would have stayed dead. Horrible, aren’t I?” He sighed and pushed the door open. He wanted to take a step inside and then slam the door behind him. “I should think that if miracles kept happening to a man like me, that would be a god whose word you couldn’t spread.”

He began unpacking bags as he searched for a change of Holo’s clothes. Once she left, he would have to sell them—the expensive clothes she had demanded.

Behind him, Elsa too entered the room and from her bag produced a set of clothes.

“That is indeed awful of you. No doubt God will punish you.” Her blunt words were somehow comforting.

Lawrence stood, a smile still lingering on his face, and made ready to leave the room. But unexpectedly, Elsa’s words followed him. “And yet I still do not understand.”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that she was plainly angry.

“Feeling the way you do, yet trying to act rationally, it’s—I simply don’t understand. That’s what’s unnatural. You should choose one or the other.”

“It is none of your business,” said Lawrence flatly. He added a troubled, complicated smile as a courtesy. “This is our problem and our decision. It is not your place to say what we should do. Not even as a teacher of God’s word.”

He added that last excuse, but it was just that: an excuse.

Elsa had been speaking from her heart, as Lawrence was perfectly aware. But he could not let her go on.

“You’re quite right.” Elsa took a deep breath and tears spilled from her eyes. “But I wanted to repay my debt to you both. It doesn’t seem to me that either of you are acting in your own best interests, so I wanted to at least—”

“Me, no. But she is, I assure you.”

Lawrence was the only one being stubborn about wanting to go with her to Yoitsu. Holo wanted to do so, if possible, but only after considering other possibilities. That was the extent of it for her.

“Two lovers,” Elsa had so shamelessly said, but the truth was much less clear. Lawrence found it easy to think of the words as a bitter irony. So, the news about Myuri did nothing to put his heart at peace.

But Elsa simply looked back at him. Her honey-colored eyes were noble and sharp, like the pommel jewels of a sword. “Then my question still stands. Why won’t you turn and fight back?”

For a moment, Lawrence did not understand what he was hearing.

“It’s like there are two Evans. Your indecision is so infuriating I can hardly stand it. Why won’t you just act the way you honestly feel? Why are you convinced that swallowing down your own opinion is best for her? God is the friend of the righteous. You have nothing to fear!” As Elsa went on, her voice rose, and with these last words, her shoulders shook.

The content of her ranting had a logic to it but was also incoherent. She herself seemed not to know exactly what she was going on about. She was probably just speaking her thoughts as they came to mind.

But Lawrence understood what she meant all too well. At the very least, he understood the feelings that had welled up from inside Elsa.

But the most important thing was that Lawrence had taken all that, forced it underneath “reason,” and ascribed it to Holo.

For trying to act so wisely, it seemed he had been quite stupid.

“You’re right about everything,” said Lawrence in an exhausted tone. His words came without a hint of deception. “But I’m a simple merchant.”

“So think!” Elsa seemed to have forgotten why she herself was angry. Yet she still glared up at Lawrence, continuing her verbal assault. “Don’t pray, think. If you say you’ve turned away from God and deserve no miracles, then stop praying and think like a merchant!”

It was a strange entreaty for her to make. Elsa had nothing to gain from it, yet she was truly angry at Lawrence and Holo.

“You merchants use all sorts of unbelievable techniques, don’t you? You have means available to you that can only be called magic, don’t you? Or if…if you’re hesitating to use such despicable methods, then be at ease.” Elsa straightened and directed her unwavering gaze right at Lawrence. “I will do all I can to assure their correctness in the face of God’s teachings.”

This was where he should laugh her off surely.

If a hundred merchants heard the story, then those hundred merchants and twenty of their friends would all agree that Holo’s way was the right one, while handing Elsa a glass of wine and telling her to calm down and have a drink.

But Elsa’s view was very attractive. She was telling him to think.

Elsa herself was no fool. She was certainly smart enough to understand there was a certain logic to Holo’s way. But she was saying all of this because she could not stand to watch them go through with it.

So at the very least, it was worth putting his head to work trying to find a way to respond to her with some kindness. She was, after all, offering to make excuses to God for whatever underhanded methods he might use. It would do to give the matter some thought, at least, before giving up.

He could not very well just turn suddenly defiant toward Holo, but there was the possibility that he could claim some small business reason for him to go.

And it was obvious what he should consider: He had to find a way to force that faraway company to sell the book without him going to Kieschen and without them learning the facts of the matter.

Kidnap the company master’s daughter or wife and threaten him? Put a curse upon him? Or hire a band of mercenaries?

It was rather fun just thinking of such mad possibilities.

But in truth, merchants did not possess the magical abilities that Elsa had misunderstood them to possess. Even money orders, those mystical documents that let you move money without carrying heavy coin on your back, were not so mysterious once you understood how they worked.

They were simply a way of moving goods down the invisible canal called credit. Money was not being magically transported. There was a principle to it. Even if one used credit backward, all they could steal was money, not life.

Lawrence’s thoughts got that care and were suddenly caught.

Use credit backward?

The words struck him as strange, and for a moment he realized his cognition had gone idle.

Elsa looked at him curiously and was about to say something, but Lawrence stopped her with a raised hand. He suddenly had the feeling there was something he had missed. As though there were keys to this problem scattered all over Lenos—golden keys that would unlock the path for him to travel to Yoitsu with Holo.

The hope beat almost painfully in his heart as the scenes he had witnessed since arriving in the town flashed through his mind.

Lawrence looked at Elsa.

Elsa, who feared nothing, seemed to flinch away from him. Surely that was not his imagination.

Then, a few moments later, Lawrence arrived at the clear realization that he was smiling.

“Incidentally, if I really did think of a way to make a miracle happen, what would you do for me?”

It was surely the first time he had ever asked, “What would you do for me?”

“…I-I’d give you my blessing.”

But even when intimidated, Elsa was a splendid clergywoman, so Lawrence kept some of his sudden self-admiration in reserve.

What he had thought of was such a contemptible plan that he would have laughed off the very idea had it not been for her urging.

When Lawrence and the others returned to Philon’s shop, there was no one inside. The door that led into the courtyard had been left open, and when Lawrence popped his head through and took a look around, he saw a temporary charcoal-fired stove in the middle of being set up.

“Oh, you’re back, are you? This’ll take a bit of time yet, so you can wait inside.”

Whether he had been hired with coin or was simply an acquaintance, there was a cook-seeming fellow expertly skinning the eels while, around him, apprentices stood expectantly.

Lawrence nodded at Philon and ducked back into the shop, where Elsa was watching him uncertainly.

“You’re the one who put me up to this, remember that,” said Lawrence with mischief in his voice, at which Elsa’s shoulders tensed in a flinch.

But her gaze was unwavering and her lips tight.

“I’m grateful, truly. I would’ve gotten old before thinking of such a thing on my own.” Lawrence smiled and took a breath. His destination was the back of the shop.

“In my father’s letters,” said Elsa suddenly to Lawrence’s back, “he wrote to tell me to go my own way. In his books there were many stories of modest happiness borne from compromise, but that no one had ever been truly satisfied with mere compromise. And…” She grasped the hand-carved seal around her neck and put on her own mischievous smile. “…There were many stories where even when failure came, it brought satisfaction with it.”

A business was built from successes and failures piled atop one another. Lawrence had known that for a very long time.

“You’re quite right,” said Lawrence, and with long strides, he headed down the hallway, deeper into Philon’s shop.

It was well cleaned, and he could tell immediately that it received fresh air daily. Interesting that despite the narrow hall and low ceiling at the back of the shop, it was brighter than the shop’s front, where customers were received.

But bright places were also places where voices carried well. After no time at all, he heard the happy voices of Holo and Col.

The room had originally been a kitchen, but before the earthen floor that seemed to have been lowered several times, there lay neatly folded the still-smelly clothing of Holo and Col.

Lawrence pulled aside the curtain that hung as a partition and peered inside and was immediately greeted by the back of a stark-naked Col, who, despite trying to escape Holo, had been caught as she ladled hot water over him.

“Aye, there you are! The water of Nyohhira is a hundred times hotter than this!” she said appropriately enough.

Of course, Col had his own ladle to plunge into the basin, so he was giving as good as he got.

When he noticed Lawrence, though, Col hastily hid behind the basin. Holo, meanwhile, looked at him as though a new prey animal had arrived.

“If you play around like this, you’re going to catch cold. Here,” said Lawrence, tossing large towels at the pair, who had long since finished actually bathing.

Col caught his with his hand; Holo, with her head.

“I’ve put each change of clothes at the door. Col, yours are from Elsa, so make sure to thank her.”

“I-I will!” said Col brightly, then immediately sneezed.

Holo and Col were both completely naked. Col dried himself off, then hurried to put his clothes on.

“You, too,” said Lawrence, at which Holo sighed an unamused sigh, shaking her tail rapidly. “Honestly,” he said. “I suppose no one saw you?”

Her tail wagging flung a shocking amount of water around, but her hair received different treatment. Holo wrung it out with her hands, the water in it dribbling to the floor. “Just what sort of a fool do you take me for—achoo!”

When wet like this, her delicate body and pale, translucent skin were like a polished jewel of some kind. But her sneeze made her seem so silly, and combined with her body, she suddenly seemed very childlike.

Lawrence sighed and went to help Holo dry her hair.

“Is lunch prepared yet?”

“They’re making the stove now. Just a bit longer.”

“Mm. As the men at the docks said, ‘They’re best covered in olive oil and just roasted.’” Her hair was beautiful, but for all that beauty it held a great deal of water. No matter how Lawrence brushed, there seemed to be no end to it. “This sort of bathing isn’t bad, but in Nyohhira you can have strong, snow-chilled wine brought to you. How about that, eh?”

Holo rambled on from underneath the towel. She seemed a bit cold—perhaps the water in the basin had mostly cooled.

“Certainly, and since everyone in the area does likewise, they all keep the prices good and high.” Lawrence took the towel off her head and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Holo brushed aside the hair that had fallen over her forehead. “Mm,” she replied. “Come, my body’s next,” she said flirtatiously, putting her hand to her hip and looking up at him as though to say, “How about it?”

If he flinched, the game would be over. He looked down into those amber eyes so filled with challenge, then slowly closed his own. “Hurry and dry yourself off and get dressed,” he said.

He could practically hear her cheeks puff out in irritation at Lawrence’s failure to become flustered. Did her actions come from being simply unworried about the end of their journey, or was it an act put on precisely because of that approaching end? Lawrence did not know.

But just as Holo was so talented at such little performances, there was a limit to how much Lawrence could hide.

“And what shall I do once I’m changed?”

“I want to find Mr. Le Roi. Help me.”

Poor Le Roi would be running all over town, trying to buy provisions without any connections in a market where everyone was hoarding for their own speculation. But Lawrence did not want to find him in order to extend him any sort of helping hand.

Holo soon realized this. She gave Lawrence a searching look. “For what purpose?”

Rivulets of water fell from her curves.

The hot water had cooled, and it was cold in the room.

Holo’s wet skin was rapidly cooling, and her eyes were even more icy than usual.

“There is a mercenary band,” said Lawrence, close enough to Holo that the droplets on her body threatened to wet him, too, as he looked down at her, “near Yoitsu.”

“…Wha—!”

“They call themselves…the Myuri mercenaries.” To his shocking words, Lawrence added still more shock. Mysteriously, though, it was in such times that one’s mind became strangely clear.

“Find Mr. Le Roi for me. I need to see him.” Lawrence looked away and made as if his business was done, but Holo grabbed him by his lapel. Her face was beyond anger.

“What’s your aim, then?”

“I have a proposal for him.”

Holo bared her fangs and through the gaps between them hissed a sort of sigh. But before that could gain enough mass to become an explosion, Lawrence put his hand to Holo’s left cheek. “I’m not going to break any promises.”

He bent down so that he was even with her red-tinged amber eyes. Those clear, beautiful eyes.

“I’m a merchant. I would never break a contract so easily.”

His words carried a twofold meaning.

Lawrence stood. “But I am going to propose a change in plans. So far as circumstances allow,” he added quietly.

“Do you—” Holo started, but her voice caught. She strengthened her grip on Lawrence’s lapel, as though to steady herself. “Do you mean to say that you won’t be going to Kieschen?”

“That depends.”

Lawrence was quite sure that it was his own conceited nature that made him think Holo was about to cry.

In truth, she was surely and deeply disgusted—disgusted that this fool was up to one of his fool schemes again.

“…Don’t you tell me that you’re…”

“Yes. Jealous,” said Lawrence lightly, returning Holo’s look. “Of Myuri, of course.”

Holo was at a loss. She was so appalled and disappointed that Lawrence could practically hear it.

“Or is Myuri a woman? In which case we can just laugh about this.” He stared right at Holo, who finally averted her gaze.

Then, slowly, she shook her head. “But come—Myuri is not what you’re thinking—”

“But while you’re reunited with him, I’ll be alone on my wagon with my thoughts. To be frank, I hate that idea.”

He took Holo’s small hand in his and realized that it was quite cold. He took the towel that still hung around her shoulders and began to dry her face and neck with it.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“Make it so we don’t have to go to Kieschen. That’s why I need to talk to Mr. Le Roi right away. I ought to be able to save Col and Elsa the trouble of going to Yoitsu as well.”

Lawrence moved the towel from Holo’s neck to her upper arm, but she brushed it off, annoyed. “Can you do such a thing?”

No matter how perfectly elaborate his answer, if there was a single flaw in it, she would not miss it. Those keen, unforgiving eyes of hers gazed at Lawrence.

For some reason Lawrence found himself smiling and replying with a self-deprecating tone. “I hope to. This…,” he began, then realized the reason for his smile. “As a merchant, this is the only way I can turn and fight.”

Holo drew her chin in, as though she had taken a bite of something bitter. She looked up to Lawrence in disgust, as though to say, “You’re hopeless, you fool.”

And then she did say it. “You fool.”

Lawrence smiled and nodded cheerfully. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll give up. That’s the truth.”

Holo could tell when someone was lying. He looked to her as though to say, “Tell me it isn’t,” at which she drew her chin down even farther and made a grumbling sound.

Holo’s gaze was an exceedingly dubious one.

Lawrence cleared his throat and continued. “Don’t you think I’ve matured some?”

He had been beaten, kicked, thrown away his life and his coin purse, all to protect Holo. To follow her, to stay with her. If this was the result of all that, it had not been such a bad journey.

Holo neither laughed nor raged, and by now she seemed past even frustration or shock. She looked at Lawrence’s smile and slumped, exhausted. And yet her face was very near to burying itself in Lawrence’s chest.

“You are a fool,” she said quietly and sighed. She picked up the towel from where it had fallen and roughly wrapped it around her body. “Truly, such a fool!”

Lawrence was fine being a fool.

He watched Holo roughly dry herself off, happily content to be a fool.

It was just as Elsa had said—he felt so much better having decided to fight back.

Holo stepped out of the path, her feet pitter-pattering on the stone and earthen floor. She threw the towel at Lawrence.

Her tail had just been washed, true, but in any case it was fully fluffed. “So we have to find that meat bun now?”

“Yes.”

“Honestly…you’d best hope we’re back in time for lunch!” declared Holo, huffing a deep and irritated sigh.

There was something distinctly animalistic about Le Roi. Not in the way he looked, of course, but in the keenness of his senses.

The bookseller was negotiating at a trading company’s loading dock when he turned at the sound of Lawrence’s footsteps.

And the place was by no means quiet. It was noisy with the shouts of men and neighs of horses, and all the din of everyday chatter.

“You’ve got a frightening look on your face, my friend,” said Le Roi jokingly and grinned.

“That’s my line.”

Le Roi’s tone was even friendlier than usual, since behind Lawrence he could see Holo’s form.

If Holo had not been there, the bookseller would have looked at Lawrence as an untrustworthy enemy.

“If you’re looking for provisions, I’ve already managed to buy up quite a bit.”

The right half of Le Roi’s face distorted skillfully. He looked over his shoulder. “Never mind, then,” he said shortly. The man with the trading company waved him off as though already fed up with Le Roi’s attempts to force him to sell.

“Walking around with a lady companion and an expression like that, no merchant alive will trust you,” said Le Roi to Lawrence, as though they were just passing by each other.

Lawrence’s shoulders slumped.

“As I’m only too aware,” he replied smoothly.

“So, what business brings you here? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten cold feet.”

In the world of credit and trust, sudden changes of heart were avoided above all else. Outright failure was far and away more preferable.

“No.”

“Well, what, then?”

“Something’s come up rather suddenly, I’m afraid. I won’t be able to go to Kieschen.”

They left the shop and walked alongside Le Roi, making for a less crowded part of the street. They passed around Holo, who let a bit of distance open between her and the two men before following.

“Are you mad?”

“My companion asked me the same thing.”

Le Roi clapped his mouth shut and glared at Lawrence. But there was confusion on his face. He could not grasp whatever it was Lawrence was thinking. “Please, no games. I’m expecting a thousand silver pieces in profit from this deal.”

He spoke as though he was a mercenary boasting of having killed a bear with nothing but his fists.

But that was not what Lawrence smiled at. He simply could not help but find it amusing that he was actually torn between his own pathetic jealousy and a deal of such size.

“You’ll excuse me, but I won’t be kicking aside an agreement we’ve already settled on.” Le Roi’s round face distorted in a grimace from one edge to the other.

Lawrence lightly cleared his throat. The cold air tickled the inside of his cheeks. “About the company in Kieschen—it’s a rather large one, with a special agreement with the Delink Company, correct?”

The Delink Company would not agree to provide only dark-skinned girls unless the customer was of the highest quality. And a company able to make such demands would not be a small one.

Still cautious and unable to see where Lawrence was going with all this, Le Roi nodded slowly.

“Which means they must deal very regularly with many other companies. I’m not mistaken in thinking so, am I?”

“…I suppose not. But what of it?” Le Roi was obviously growing impatient, but Lawrence did not want to skip to the end of his explanation just yet.

He gulped and continued. “If so, I ought to be able to remain in this town and still aid you in your purchase.”

The bookseller stopped in his tracks, the whole of his being working to anticipate what Lawrence was going to say next.

Lawrence looked over his shoulder to follow him, so sudden was Le Roi’s stop. The sun was just then low in the sky, so he squinted when he spoke. “With money orders.”

“Money orders? How? They’re just a convenient way of moving money.”

Lawrence looked past Le Roi’s vast bulk to the idle Holo behind them. “Not if we use them to harass.” Lawrence faced forward and began walking again. Le Roi was still confused, but Lawrence was confident he would follow.

“Mr. Lawrence. I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

Curiosity killed the cat. Once he knew, he would be unable to resist getting involved—no matter how dirty the trick.

Lawrence turned back to Le Roi. “We’ll issue multiple money orders to the company in question from many others.”

“Huh?”

“Each for maybe a few dozen silvers. Or perhaps a hundred or two hundred.” Lawrence was impressed with the smile he managed. After all, the sort of brute-force method he was describing was something only the wealthiest merchants could get away with.

“We’ll change all the names and send all the money orders in at once. The company in Kieschen will start cashing them without worrying about the strange coincidence, but as they start running low on coin, they’ll begin to get suspicious—but it will already be too late. The coin will be gone from their coffers, and the money changers will catch wind of this and hike up their exchange rates. And what will the company do then? The money orders will keep coming in, including ones from their regular customers. Which ones are the malicious ones and which are from partners they can’t afford to anger? And in the midst of all this, customers and trading partners keep coming. ‘Buy this, buy that, pay what you said you’d pay’…the company will be a mess.”

The fat Le Roi’s smooth skin normally looked like flour-dusted dough. But now it was as white as if it had been carved from rock salt.

“And that’s where you come in. ‘You seem to be in trouble, so I’ll take these money orders off your hands. But there’s a condition,’ you’ll say.”

And of course, all the money orders Le Roi would be taking charge of would be from the Delink Company, so there would be no need for Le Roi to actually have the coin.

At that point, the outcome would be simple. It all depended on Le Roi’s nerve and talent. “And that’s where I’d tell them I heard they had a certain volume in their possession.”

“Exactly,” said Lawrence with a wide smile, every bit the clever merchant hawking his wares—though Le Roi could hardly be blamed for looking at him aghast, as though he considered Lawrence unworthy of the name “merchant” for thinking of such a despicable tactic.

But as a plan, it was sound. There were, of course, some flaws.

“I understand what you’re…proposing. But…is the Delink Company willing?”

Le Roi was not worried about the damage to their credit—the Delink Company would bring in several other large companies in Lenos and send the money orders through them, and at that point, their own name would be clean as a whistle.

The problem was that a large amount of coin would be necessary to issue the money orders.

“They will be. After all, coin is awfully valuable in Lenos right now.”

“Ah—!” Le Roi raised his voice.

The Delink Company would be able to make a tidy profit on the exchange rate.

“So long as there’s a difference between the currency markets of Lenos and Kieschen, there’s profit to be had. And fortunately for us, the value of coin in Lenos is clearly much stronger. Shall I show you the figures?”

There was a smack sound as Le Roi’s hand hit his head. He groaned, but his eyes had a calculating, contemplative look in them.

Given the plan Lawrence had proposed, if the Delink Company agreed, in that moment Le Roi’s acquisition of the book was assured. There would be no need for him to spend the duration of the journey to Kieschen agonizing over the uncertain future and how to exploit this or that weakness in order to get them to sell the book.

No merchant who plied the lonely road alone could underestimate such peace of mind. Le Roi himself had had to change his own plans after hauling a load of scriptures into Lenos. Such mishaps happened all too easily and were likewise easily imagined.

But with this plan, Le Roi could head out on his journey with real certainty. He looked at Lawrence like a true believer seeking to confess.

“Are you…serious about this?”

He was hooked.

Lawrence’s answer was short. “Of course.”

The bookseller nodded a mute and defeated nod.

They immediately headed for Delink. When there was a change in plans, it was best to declare them quickly. Yet—when preparing for a hard right turn in a swiftly moving wagon, it was best to at least lay one’s body over the load.

Lawrence had naturally considered this and had been careful not to underestimate the company.

Which was why he had again brought Holo to the Delink Company. This was to prove to them his resolve—for once before he had left her there for money, only to throw the money in their faces and take her back.

When they arrived at their destination, it seemed the company’s four masters were in a meeting together. When he was led into the room, they all came in to meet him.

There would be no turning back now. He could not let himself regret not making every possible effort, doing everything he could do.

The job of explaining had passed from Le Roi to Lawrence. The forcible use of money orders was more important to him, as was avoiding the trip to Kieschen.

As they listened, none of the three men, Eringin included, twitched so much as an eyebrow. Far from it—when he was finished listening, with his hands still folded upon the table, Eringin said only this: “Well, shall we take this route?”

It was Lawrence who now disbelieved his ears, despite being the one to propose the plan. He replied without thinking. “Truly?”

Eringin made a deliberately surprised face, as though to say, “Are you not the one whose proposal this is?”

“Er, of course, this was my proposal, and if you’re agreed, then I’m deeply grateful. But, ah, in addition, there’s one more favor I’d like to ask…”

“I assume you yourself do not wish to go to Kieschen, Mr. Lawrence.”

Of course—there had been the inquiry from Philon earlier, and now Holo was with him in person. It did not take a particularly clever person to put the pieces together.

Eringin chuckled. “You may be the one to have proposed this method, Mr. Lawrence, but it’s still quite consistent with our requirements. And if you’re willing to do this, we’ve no reason to refuse. After all, we’ve considered it ourselves.”

“Wha—”

Lawrence was not the only one whose face came up in surprise. Le Roi was stunned.

“However, no reasonable mind would come up with such an abusive technique, so even if someone did think of it, they would hardly propose it to us, or so we had concluded. Much less could we suggest it to you—you’d be instantly suspicious.”

It was not at all clear whether Eringin was teasing or not. But from the ironic twist at the corner of his mouth, Lawrence decided he was telling the truth.

“But you’ve accumulated a bit too much age and experience to consider such crude, reckless things. Am I wrong?”

Holo was the only one at the table to laugh at Eringin’s words. The slave trader faced her and smiled pleasantly.

“There aren’t many ways for a man to stay young. Your companion there was an excellent decision. I mean no offense—I am being quite sincere.” He looked straight at Lawrence.

Lawrence did not know how to answer, but he knew enough to politely accept the words as given.

“I daresay I understood the moment I saw your companion. Two heads are better than one, they say. There’s wisdom in that.”

“Though we have four heads,” added one of the other masters. Evidently there were limits to how far even a man like Eringin could go alone.

“We therefore agree to your proposal. I trust you don’t mind us handling the details?” It was said in a businesslike tone, to which Lawrence and Le Roi both quickly replied.

Only the Delink Company understood the connections between companies and preparation of coin necessary for this. And given the underhanded tactics they were using, even if the book was safely obtained, it would be difficult to carry it out of the town.

Lawrence and Le Roi would be leaving all those myriad details to the Delink Company. And in exchange, they would be playing the villains.

That was undoubtedly why Eringin himself had not proposed the possibility to them.

“It will be good business, I daresay. Though one does have to feel bad for the targeted company.” Eringin sounded genuinely sympathetic, rather than simply saying the words because he thought he ought to.

They all stood and shook hands, and thus sealed the new agreement.

For the men of the Delink Company, the shaking of hands came before the signing of the contract—for truly, their business was closer to Philon’s world than to anything else.

“Now then, may God grant us success.” With those words, the meeting was closed.

Le Roi looked to Lawrence, a strained smile on his face. “We’ve really done it now,” he seemed to say.

Lawrence found himself wanting to echo the sentiment. With this, he no longer had to go to Kieschen, and Le Roi alone would take on the role of the villain.

And the price would have to be paid.

“About the fee you promised,” said Lawrence as they exited the room into a hallway so quiet it seemed to swallow sound.

“Oh, please, please, not now.”

“Later, then.”

“No, that’s not—that’s not what I mean,” said Le Roi, taking a quick look around. Eringin was still conferring with his colleagues in the meeting room and had yet to emerge. A short distance away there was a single smart-looking boy standing next to the door he had just closed.

“But—”

“We can talk about that once everything else is finished, can’t we?” said Le Roi, looking up at Lawrence mischievously. “I will be playing the villain here, but we know they’re going to surrender immediately. I could never content myself if I skipped paying the introduction fee on such an outrageous scheme. And more than anything else, I may not be Mr. Philon,” Le Roi said, smiling an innocent, boyish smile. “But I want you to owe me a bit of a favor, eh? Are you truly a traveling merchant? I’m having a hard time believing it.”

Back when he had spent his days with his eyes on the ground hoping to spot a single copper coin, Lawrence had longed to hear such words. It was a bitter irony that now that he had discovered something he valued above gold, he was hearing it all the time.

Before he answered, he glanced at Holo, who seemed to be keeping a bit of a distance, perhaps to avoid interfering with their conversation. “I’m quite a failure as a traveling merchant, I should say. So you’re not wrong about that.”

Le Roi grinned, but there was not so much as a trace of a smile from Holo. Perhaps that was because her own plan had been so quickly kicked aside, or perhaps it was the revelation of Lawrence’s jealousy of her pack mate in Yoitsu.

But she did not seem angry so much as utterly at a loss. He was certain that if he asked her if this was so, he would receive an affirmative answer via her thrown fist.

“But still, Mr. Lawrence. Worry yourself not. Forcing people to do something they loathe with a smile on my face is my nature,” said Le Roi.

Frustratingly, it was these words that Holo finally smiled at under her hood.

Le Roi had been doing just that when they had first met him at Philon’s shop. Prick an opponent’s conscience, and one could make them do whatever they wished.

“So this sort of thing is right in my wheelhouse. And the bigger the prey, the greater the feeling of accomplishment, eh?”

Elsa had been exactly right about Le Roi. His avarice made him trustworthy.

Lawrence nodded. “I look forward to seeing your results,” he replied, and left it at that.