Spice and Wolf - Volume 15 - Chapter 1

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CHAPTER ONE

The air was dry and cold, but the sun’s rays were warm as they poured down. Put another way, it was weather for having a blanket to snuggle into.

Furthermore, the cradle sway of a wagon was surely the best lullaby of all.

And still, Lawrence sighed with cheer—for he could not simply pull a blanket over himself and nod off.

The deer-hide gloves he had made were very warm; the knitted wool blanket over his lap was bulky but light. The well-fed horse cheerfully flicked its pale tail about; the road was very pretty and made for easy progress. Under normal circumstances one could hardly complain about such a journey, but unfortunately he did not travel alone.

He was traveling together with a partner from a village called Pasloe, far to the south of where his wagon now advanced. Worshipped by villagers for centuries as a god who governed whether a harvest was poor or bountiful, her true form was a giant wolf that could swallow a man whole. Her fur was the color of flax, long like an aristocrat’s, very soft; her thin body was all one might call the fly in the ointment.

And where was Holo at this moment? Atop the wagon’s cargo, wrapped in a blanket, sleeping without a care. He heard pff and khh, sounds straddling the line between the sounds of sleeping and of snoring.

As she would firmly deny that she snored, they must have been the sounds of sleeping. Quite.

Lawrence had been edging toward parting ways with her here in the town of Lenos, before reaching Yoitsu, but had somehow managed to evade that possibility.

It all had to do with a forbidden script hitherto buried in darkness apparently containing a technique for excavating mines with a higher rate of success. This “mine development” meant shearing off mountaintops, using a great many chemicals for refining, and clear-cutting forests to fuel the required fires. Fouling the water, stripping the mountains, and leaving nothing but wasteland behind, it would be a tragic state of affairs. For Holo, who hailed from Yoitsu, deep in the forests of the northlands, a technique yielding such results was something that must never be permitted to set foot into the world. For Lawrence and Holo to hand it over to a company specializing in mining was nothing short of a nightmare for her.

For that reason, they had sent the script off with Le Roi, the book trader, at the town of Lenos.

Lawrence’s destination was Lesko, a town situated upstream from the west-flowing Roef River.

For many years, the Debau Company that ran it had enjoyed sole control of a large, prominent mining belt and aimed to be the preeminent mineral trader of the age. It was said the Debau Company intended to start a great war in the northlands in pursuit of that objective, conquering the northlands so that it could open even more mines.

As a merchant, since meeting Holo, he had been wrapped up in absurdly large business deals involving thousands or even tens of thousands of trenni silver pieces. He knew how dreadful such things could be; he had experienced firsthand how cheap human life was in the face of such large quantities of coin.

But even so, Lawrence had turned his wagon toward Lesko, for they had heard of a mercenary group quartered there that bore the name of one of Holo’s pack mates from her homeland.

—The name she had sometimes cried out in dreams, not long after Lawrence had first met her.

As they had obtained a map showing the way to Yoitsu, they could have headed there first. Even so, since one never knew when a mercenary group might vanish from the world like so much mist, they set out to meet the mercenaries while their whereabouts were still known.

At any rate, why a mercenary group bearing the name of Holo’s pack mate was associating itself with the Debau Company, supposedly assembling military might from across the northlands, was of particularly great concern. Just thinking about what they might be planning brought up all sorts of things to worry about. If they missed this opportunity, it would not only be more difficult to learn about such important matters, but also what had happened during the centuries Holo spent at Pasloe.

But though they had stopped at a great many places for reasons such as these, this particular stopover came with a little too much tension.

The reason was that ever since Col had left during their preparations to head to Lesko, Holo had spoken very little, barely setting foot out of their room at the inn.

There was the fact that he simply did not know what the right thing to say was.

But another greater reason lay elsewhere.

“Achoo.”

He heard a small sneeze, followed by a moaning voice: “Hnng—.”

At times, even while asleep, Holo would notice the approach of her enemies, even if they were veteran soldiers not making the smallest sound. But for the most part, she was nearer to a domesticated dog.

Right now, she shivered, yawning and stretching while curled up in the wool blanket that enveloped her. If she was not moving, she would just fall back asleep, but if she was tossing and turning, it was apparently a sign she was inclined to wake up. After rustling about for a while, she did indeed pop her head out from under the blankets.

“Water.”

As the freshly awoken princess mumbled with a disheveled face, Lawrence the manservant passed her his waterskin.

“Still more of…this scenery for a time, eh…”

He had heard that there was nothing but flat land the whole way, with no difficulties whatsoever. If there was going to be a problem, it was that since the town was at the open entrance to a mountain range, there was a high probability of snowfall. But as there was little snow at this time of year, even if some fell there ought to be no great difficulty.

“Ah…yes.”

The reason Lawrence hesitated a bit as he replied was absolutely not because the answer was uncertain. Nor was it because Holo was right behind the driver’s seat, elbows on the edge of the wagon bed as she leisurely gazed at the scenery, taking the waterskin while he replied.

It was because, when he had turned, Holo’s face bore a blank, unreadable expression.

In truth, Lawrence had not been able to get a read on Holo for the last several days. Was she angry? Was she not angry? It was very hard to tell the difference.

The memory of the harsh blow he had gotten in the town of Lenos was still fresh in his mind. As a man, he regretted deeply that there was nothing he could do here on this back road with not a soul in sight.

However, there was no mistaking that he held Holo dear to him. He did not want to be apart from her for even an instant. And Holo had told him that she felt the same way. Certainly, sometimes she really wound him up. Sometimes his blood rushed to his head. However, that had truly made him happy, enough to wipe out the merchant part of him that did not trust anything until he received a firm answer.

Which was all the more reason why Lawrence could not accept this treatment.

If they both knew they liked each other, why then was she rejecting him?

It was Holo who had first said that if someone were to approach them she would know ahead of time, and with both of them in human form, there was nothing they could not do. They had not even had anything that could be called a quarrel.

Nothing was logically the matter—so what could it be?

And yet Holo had been in a particularly good mood after Lawrence had received his smacking. That he could not understand what that meant whatsoever was rather ominous. Then, Holo seemed to be keeping her distance, never showing any expression worthy of the term, as if she was wearing a mask.

For some reason, he picked up the sullen atmosphere Holo was giving off that very moment as she gazed at the scenery.

Lawrence had no idea what he should do.

“So how long will this take?”

This time he was late in his reply because he was so lost in his thoughts.

“Eh? Ah, er, about six days at the most.”

There had been no villages or towns along the way. For Holo, who found the sight of human beings something that made things more bearable, this had been a long road indeed.

With the steppe scenery continuing on and on, he could understand why she would sigh and stick her tongue out in displeasure.

“I wonder if the town will be lively.”

This was a very important matter to Holo. The livelier a town, the tastier its food and wine. The simple foods of a village were little better than rations on the road.

Given his preexisting concerns about the Debau Company, Lawrence had already tried to discover what he could about the town of Lesko, where the company held sway, to find out what kind of town it was.

But the more he tried to investigate, the more walls he slammed into. As there were few people who had gone as far as Lesko, he could not inquire as to the state of the town in any detail.

Even Philon, who ran a general goods store catering to mercenaries and thus made it his business to know which mercenaries were going where, had no grasp of the state of the town to which they were heading. He had heard it was lively, but that was the most he could share. He had spoken to a number of travelers and boatmen who went up and down the river, always getting the same story: It was indeed a large and lively town. When he asked how it was lively, the boatmen replied that unfortunately, their job was to haul cargo, not to check out the state of a town like Lawrence would. Those engaged in trade in Lenos said that they did not have a firm idea of what people in Lesko did.

No doubt the Debau Company saw to it that its daily needs were fulfilled via trade across the northlands. Furthermore, as precious metals were its main stock in trade, they were not limited either in variety or scale in what they could sell to ordinary merchants off the street.

“Out of sight, out of mind” went the saying; to ordinary townspeople, a town that required a journey of six to seven days by wagon to reach might as well have been at the very ends of the earth.

What stuck in his mind was that of those who had visited Lesko, every single one had praised it.

The mightier and more ruthless the king, the more the fearful townspeople sung their praises.

He felt that in a town set up by the Debau Company, which even sought to purchase the bones of an ancient being such as Holo in its quest to subdue the northlands, truly anything could be happening.

“I’ve heard it’s lively, but…that might mean by northlands standards,” Lawrence answered discreetly.

Perhaps because she did not appreciate the discretion, he heard Holo make a sound like she was raising one eyebrow, seeming dubious as she asked in return, “What do you mean?”

“Going all the way to Lesko puts us completely outside the Ploania region.” He cut his words off there, not because he thought that explained everything, but because he was reaching into the flaxen pouch sitting right behind him. “Look at this.”

He pulled out fourteen coins that had been packed inside the pouch. When bored with time to spare at inns, Holo had taken them out, gazed at them, and played with them, flicking them with her fingers.

“These are the fourteen main coins in circulation that I got from the money changer. This is because political power in the northlands is chopped up and divided all over the place. So, you can’t get by with just one kind.”

From his wallet, he pulled a trenni silver piece, which could be used in pretty much any town, and showed it to Holo.

“With so many coins about, people don’t accept any coins they haven’t seen before, which means a lot of time spent at the money changer’s, which makes it hard to do business. Since it’s hard to do business, there aren’t very many merchants. That means few guests, and it also means little entertainment. People often say more currencies equals more headaches. Even in this batch I traded for, there are a number of coins I don’t recognize. I don’t know exactly what value they should be exchanged for. If it’s so uncertain and troublesome, you’d want to conduct trade somewhere else, yes?”

Holo made a nod as though she understood Lawrence’s words.

This was the sort of conversation Lawrence could really get into. Money had no bias, after all, and furthermore was easy to use.

“Well, certainly simpler ’tis better,” Holo said curtly and huddled under her woolen blanket once more.

He had the feeling she had meant something more by that, but poking the thicket might bring out the snake.

Lawrence faced forward again, unconsciously rubbing the cheek that Holo had slapped so many times.

For a while since they left the town of Lenos, things had definitely grown cooler between him and Holo.

It was the fourth day since this state of affairs had taken shape.

Naturally, nothing could be resolved between them if they were not speaking to each other.

It was simply that when one was sick of traveling, it was difficult to care about the small things.

The night of the fourth day, on some kind of cue, her gaze met Lawrence’s, along with a sour look and a long sigh.

She had probably simply thought it was too much trouble staying this stubborn. Or, at the very least, that it was highly unlikely Lawrence would be the first to break the ice.

A wise decision from the wisewolf.

That was why, when it was time for supper, she pulled back a fair bit of her obstinacy and, for the first time in a while, told him, “Hand me more meat!” When Lawrence put plenty on her plate, her ears twitched happily, even as her face remained sullen.

But she seemed to remain a bit conflicted about her compromise.

Around the time that clumsy small talk between them started to dry up, with the occasional sprinkle of snow accompanying the wind, Holo gently broke the ice.

Lawrence softly echoed her words back, as if trying not to frighten a wild rabbit that had drawn near.

“The Myuri mercenaries, you ask?”

“…Aye.”

Holo gazed at the bonfire while she gnawed on a wooden spoon.

No doubt Holo had wanted to ask him about this earlier, but thanks to the strange atmosphere between her and Lawrence, she had not managed to get the words out.

Lawrence cleared his throat and strived to answer per usual.

“I wasn’t able to gather all that much.”

Holo made no reply to Lawrence’s words, save a faint nod.

“At most it numbers about forty people, making it a quite small mercenary company. According to the guild in Delink, they expected to deploy at the fringes of Yoitsu. By historical standards, the current captain is still very young. Also, its flag is a wolf howling toward the sky.”

“Aye.”

Holo nodded as if thinking of something.

Lawrence chewed on some rice gruel with chicken broth mixed into it.

This was completely different from hearing the name of her old pack mate from her homeland again in some old book or half-forgotten legend. It was a name remaining with those who lived, who could be seen and touched.

Surely she had more worries and doubts than hopes.

Perhaps they had been a larger factor in why she had not spoken very much than the sense of distance and so on she had put between her and Lawrence.

Lawrence would have conveyed a number of things to her if he could, but he could not tell her what he did not know. Even so, he had a responsibility to cheer up a traveling companion sitting and eating in silence.

As she crunched something hard like cartilage and washed it down, Lawrence spoke.

“Ah, and also.”

“Aye?” Holo raised her face from her bowl, looking up at Lawrence somewhat expectantly.

“It seems the captain is particularly skilled and daring.”

He thought that anyone would want someone bearing the name of a pack mate from her homeland to hear that.

However, one did not have to be Holo to see through the transparent flattery all too clearly.

A seemingly grateful smile began to form on Holo’s face but settled into a bittersweet one.

Then Lawrence added this immediately afterward: “And he would seem to be as handsome as I am.”

As if on purpose, he rubbed his chin as he spoke. Rather than a flat-out lie, this was actually a joke Eringin of the Delink Company had made.

Holo’s eating hand came to a stop as she looked at Lawrence once again. It was plain on her face that she did not know what to say to that.

However, as her shock waned, what remained were vaguely happy-looking ears and a swaying tail. As Holo watched Lawrence playing the fool, she shifted her gaze away every so often, thinking something over.

Finally, Holo gave a large sigh while scratching the base of her ear, making a seemingly exhausted smile as she spoke.

“Hmph. Fear not. Myuri had the plainer looks of the two of you.”

“Good to know.”

She had replied, but all she was doing was answering his words. Perhaps this would not work.

As if on purpose, Lawrence’s smile seemed to conceal uncertainty as Holo continued to speak.

“What, did you think I would choose based on appearance alone?”

She had bit.

Lawrence replied immediately.

“Not at all.”

“Were I to, I would choose Col before the likes of you.”

She spoke with a blunt expression on her face as she sipped her rice gruel. However, she did not cut off her words there.

“If not him, then…who was that young man in that town who had his heart set on me again?”

“…Amati, eh…?”

“Aye. That is the one. I would choose him, then.”

Now that she had climbed aboard an obvious joke, he of course did not know just how serious she was being.

But, he thought, she was at least somewhat serious. Rummaging through his own memories, Lawrence could not recall a single time she had praised his looks.

Even so, when he was a penniless mud-covered beginner, he had been at his happiest when his trading partner disregarded his dirty outside appearance, properly trusting what was on the inside, and furthermore, sending work in his direction. That was the kind of person whose trust he most wanted to repay, whose expectations he most wished to respond to.

That is why Lawrence was happy at Holo’s words.

And making oneself and the other party happy was the foundation of trade.

“Well, I wouldn’t choose you for your face ei…th…”

Holo looked at Lawrence with a broad grin.

Lawrence closed his mouth before finishing the thought.

“None can claim I am anything but fetching.”

Certainly, just from looking at her face, one would think she was an angel.

But that was not what Lawrence had wished to say. Surely that had not slipped past Holo, and she had said what she did knowing that full well.

Even if Lawrence thought it underhanded, he was happy to see Holo looking like herself after so long. “I suppose that’s true,” he said.

Holo made a look of astonishment, which changed to a pleasant smile as she chuckled.

“So, shall we truly meet them in Lesko, I wonder?”

Holo was muttering as she used a basin to wash herself with water scooped out of a river, just as the sun was setting. Thanks to the bonfire, one could not even squint to see the flow of the river at the moment, but the river was certainly full and flowing.

People had many such rivers flowing inside them. The wise laid down bridges before their feet were swept away.

“If we don’t meet them there, we’ll just have more fun going to find them.”

Lawrence had to return to his trade route and thus had very little time remaining to him. If they were unable to find the mercenaries in either Lesko or, failing that, midway along the way to Yoitsu, another journey to search for them was virtually impossible.

Holo knew all this. Even so, Lawrence’s words seemed to tickle her ears. Holo arched her neck back, using a stick to dig hot embers out of the bonfire, smiling as she spoke.

“Aye. The more fun the better.”

“Well, chances are we’ll meet them without any trouble.”

He said it like that was something any wisewolf should understand.

Holo glanced at him and smiled with the chagrin that he had gotten her this time.

She separated the largest embers from the others for replacing the spent ones in the pocket heater.

“Just think of all the fun you would have if I became angry and ran off and you went searching for me.”

She scattered the ashes, stuffed the embers into triple-woven hemp sacks, and pulled the openings shut.

Watching her do so as if strangling his own neck wiped the smile off Lawrence’s face. Even so, he could not just let her have the last word.

“I’m sure it would be fun. I’d find you driven to tears by an empty stomach, after all.”

Her ears reacted with a twitch, but Holo was not foolish enough to let herself become angry at that point.

As one chuckled and the other laughed, neither giving an inch, the night grew late.

Atop the wagon’s baggage, both held their ember-filled sacks to their bellies, facing away from each other as they went to sleep.

However, even with their backs turned to each other, their breathing matched perfectly.

He thought it had probably been harder to sleep when their breathing had not been thus synchronized.

It would be less than three days until they reached Lesko, where the Debau Company was. He wondered how long it would take them to reach Yoitsu after that.

At the very least, he knew that this night, spent fearlessly hurling insults at each other, had been the most carefree night of all.

He knew they were getting close to Lesko, even without relying on the number of footprints left in the snow on the white-dyed steppe. A stronger indicator was the sudden increase in the number of merchants on the road.

Many of them enveloped themselves in coarse wool, their faces darkened beyond recognition from grime and snow burn. From the manner of their appearance, these were not the ones doing business in a lively town, but rather those who transported the bare necessities of life to the harshest of climes.

Of course, there were also merchants who seemed to be engaged in more profitable commerce, in single file, cargo loaded to the brim. However, even they were not using horse-drawn wagons, accustomed as they were to navigating treacherous paths; they employed tough-hided mules, each loaded down with a mountain of baggage.

Lesko seemed to be summoning mercenary groups and was even gathering noblemen from all over the northlands. Given this, Lawrence had been certain the path would have a more foreboding atmosphere. But there was no such impression given. The road seemed to have been recently constructed, and while sturdy, it did not have the feel of a road rushed for the advance of an army. He had been prepared to count on Holo’s ears and intuition if he must, but the highway had no trace of an atmosphere of unrest.

If it was full of something, it was a liveliness just under the surface.

The road gave off the sense that it led to a town with profitable trade where money could be made, and Lawrence, being a merchant, drank it up.

A rural town in the north where some unrest was arising—that was what he had expected from the town of Lesko. And yet.

“’Twould seem they are high in spirits.” Perhaps because she anticipated possibly meeting Myuri, Holo had tossed and turned more than slept over the last few days; her voice was a little off-key as she spoke. “And in a different direction than expected at that.”

Everyone thought that the Debau Company, backed by its financial clout from the vast mining belt it possessed, was invading the northlands. Merchants usually kept far away from war, so surely, those merchants flocking here were slightly crazed, eyes only on turning their fortunes around.

“Mmm, we’ll find out when we get there soon enough.”

Having come this far, that was all he could say. He gripped the reins, urging the horse to trot faster than usual.

Beside him, Holo nodded, looking unable to calm down.

Whatever the case with him, Holo was feeling stress at the possibility of meeting a comrade she had not seen in centuries. It was at times like these that he had to keep himself together.

Thinking this, Lawrence wondered what he could do about it, what words he could say to her, what small talk he could use to distract her.

But as his intention would be all too clear either way, he could not think of anything good to say.

He was well aware that outside of commerce, his way of speaking was simple and rustic.

That was why, even with the incident in Lenos in the back of his mind, Lawrence did what he could.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out beside him with his gloved hand and took Holo’s hand. He held it as if to say, “Don’t worry.” Of course, Holo looked at him as if startled, and then gave her hand a good, long look as Lawrence held it. For his part, Lawrence desperately kept his gaze ahead, half expecting to be slugged at any moment.

However, Holo did not move. They spent a while like this, which was very awkward and difficult for him.

Perhaps he was simply projecting his own insecurities onto Holo. She was not the weak girl her appearance would suggest, after all.

Even so, Holo grasped Lawrence’s hand back.

This was the belly of the Debau Company’s vast mining belt holdings.

Even Kieman, branch manager of the Rowen Trade Guild in Kerube, had told Lawrence not to meddle with the giant company.

Down the road, the town of Lesko came into sight.

Here inside the town, in the middle of the street, Lawrence was in complete shock.

No matter what he said, no matter how many times he looked around, it was true.

In the first place, there were no walls. While thinking they were not quite there yet, he had somehow found himself inside the town.

Furthermore, he had convinced himself that this being a mining company, there must be mines nearby, but he had been mistaken. Certainly the mountains were but a short distance away, but Lesko bore no sign of the cramped, boisterous atmosphere that all mining towns shared.

And finally, the town was certainly not small. If anything, it was huge.

There were numerous grand buildings, and it seemed like half the surface of the ground had been sliced away only to have paving stones inserted in its place. Thanks to this, people and wagons made peculiar sounds as they came and went. It must have taken years of work to plant and maintain whole trees on the side of the road like this. How did they raise money for such expenses without walls? And all the roads were well maintained, even the little-trafficked inner streets.

Furthermore, the residents’ faces were full of life, without one shred of thought that a war was about to break out. Or that if one was, it was already won.

“Are we truly in the right place…?”

He understood quite well the feeling that made Holo ask him this.

Amalgamating all the stories they had heard so far, this was a mining town steeped in sin where the greedy among the northlands huddled together in secret, avarice-filled conferences, scheming as to how to plunge the land into fear and mayhem.

But was that really the case?

The sales booths that lined the streets were overflowing with customers; alongside them were musicians, bards, clowns, and other attractions, drawing many people all around them.

There were more dangerous sorts as well. However, rather than uniformly bearing crude pikes and so forth, they spent their daylight hours playing cards, drinking wine, and so forth at taverns catering to travelers. There were clergymen loitering about as well, but as they all seemed rather well dressed, they gave off no sense of launching some sort of austere religious mission.

What was going on here?

Lawrence went as far as a lesser frequented street before temporarily stopping the wagon.

“Seems rather enjoyable,” Holo muttered. “’Twould seem we were fools to have been worried so over this.”

He did not want to accept that, but she had a point.

There was still a possibility, though, that this was only the surface.

“What do you wish to do?”

As Holo asked that, Lawrence mentally regrouped.

“It goes without saying. We’ll do what we came here for. Right?”

Perhaps because he spoke with such deliberate effort, Holo widened her eyes a bit before chuckling and nodded.

Lawrence headed toward an inn that he had learned of beforehand, thanks to the letter Philon, the trader from the Delink Company who specialized in dealing with mercenaries, had given him. It was here that the entirety of the Myuri Mercenary Company, which had long done business with the Delink Company, was quartered. As a small mercenary company with no idea when or where some ruler or armed group might come raiding, it positioned itself where it could be informed of such details by its business partner.

And if that business partner felt the need to do continuing business, political or financial support would be forthcoming, it seemed.

Beyond that, an organization that handled slaves like the Delink Company was naturally able to glean information from influential organizations more easily. Introducing yourself to your potential next employer was just part of doing business. Even for mercenary companies seemingly living on the edge, the leadership side of the coin was little different from being a merchant.

The town was large and bustling, but perhaps because of the lack of walls, the buildings had a comfortable width to them.

Even at the inn, which they reached while making inquiries of people along the road to it, the barn was so thoroughly stuffed with wagons bearing the mercenary company’s baggage that there was barely any space left at all. But it was the fact the doors at the entrance had small panes of glass embedded in it that truly established that this was no ordinary land.

When Lawrence showed a young man acting in the role of a guide that he had business at the inn, the latter barely questioned it as he took the reins of the horse. Perhaps many people came and went like this, or perhaps it was too obvious to be worth noticing.

Lawrence hesitated for several moments after handing the wagon over, but with Holo already under stress, he would only add to her worries if he grew timid here.

He got down from the driver’s seat and flicked a tip in a display of ample confidence.

“I’ll take good care of him, sir.”

He was a little older than Col, but his smile, pronunciation, and handling of horses were superb.

He saw from the lad’s hair and eye color that he had not been born here. Lawrence had a feeling he came from somewhere farther to the south.

It was Lawrence’s habit as a merchant to take note of various things when first entering a town. As the atmosphere here was completely contrary to his initial expectations, he was even more motivated to investigate things left and right.

However, at the moment, the top priority was to meet the Myuri Mercenary Company.

Even though it bore the name of one of Holo’s pack mates from her homeland, they could not disregard the possibility it was mere coincidence. After all, the founder of the company may have simply heard about Myuri and thought it a fine name.

To a normal merchant, mercenaries were nothing short of a mortal enemy.

He felt greater tension than when he had been with Philon, the general goods store owner who made catering to mercenaries his specialty.

Holo had been clutching her chest with her right hand the whole time.

“Ready to go in?”

When Lawrence asked, Holo snapped her gaze to him and said, “If you are, aye.”

If she could hurl abuse at him, she would be fine.

Lawrence confirmed that his coat covered the letter and slowly opened the inn’s front door.

When he opened the door, a bell rang that was identical to those hung from the necks of cattle. The first floor had been turned into a tavern, with a number of round tables placed all over. About a third had people sitting at them. Never mind their thick arms and scarred faces—one could instantly tell they were mercenaries from the atmosphere alone.

However, they were not all staring in his direction; indeed, those who had noticed them quickly lost interest and returned to their tabletop card games and chitchat.

Someone who gave off the air of a merchant rose from his chair.

“How may I help you?”

Even though by appearance, he was an ordinary youth similar in physique to Lawrence, his hands looked as thick and tough as pounded leather. He was truly well suited for the transport corps, using horse-drawn wagons to haul the mercenaries’ supplies to the field of battle.

His vigilant blue eyes shifted between Lawrence and Holo, perhaps thinking that they were getting in the way of business.

“I’ve heard that this is where the gentlemen of the Myuri Mercenary Company are staying.”

He felt like every set of ears in the entire room reacted to his invoking the name of the company.

Chitchat continued in small voices without anyone moving an inch, but he thought that had paused for a moment.

Perhaps because she was tense, Holo kept her head down throughout.

“That is indeed correct but…did you come to sell something…?”

His eyes showed that he meant Holo.

Certainly, if one brought a woman with them to an inn where a mercenary company was lodging, they could only be selling one thing.

“No…actually, I heard about you from the Delink Company in the town of Lenos.”

As Lawrence spoke, he withdrew the letter from inside his coat. As soon as the youth saw the red seal, he reacted, for someone of status had business here.

The probable merchant youth raised his eyebrows a bit and curled the side of his lips. The invocation of the Delink Company’s name instantly attracted attention from everyone present.

“Where’s the captain?”

The young man watched Lawrence, turning his head back a little as he asked.

“The strategist should be on the second floor,” came the reply.

The youth’s blue eyes never shifted away from Lawrence even a little.

“Unfortunately the captain is absent, but you can see the strategist.”

In any organization, it was an ironclad rule that requests had to climb a ladder with at least one rung on it. All the more so when one’s objective was an audience with the captain of a company. Even if the captain was willing to meet anyone at all, one never knew if his subordinates would permit it or not. That made things a little complicated.

When Lawrence nodded and said, “Well, then,” the youth began to turn around. That was when he suddenly lifted his face up.

“Ah.”

It was not actually clear if he had said that or not, but that is what form the youth’s lips seemed to take from Lawrence’s perspective. And before Lawrence could turn around, all those seated rose to their feet. He belatedly registered the sound of the cowbell. The youth stood at attention, with those at the other tables doing the same.

When he turned around, the man who had opened the door and entered was of fairly small stature, his hair short, his eyes sharp, giving off a mysterious aura straddling the line between that of a youth and a young man.

“Mm? What?”

To his ears, the grating voice reminded him of the sort he would make if his throat was sore. Even though his garments stressed utility, the extensive use of fur made instantly clear he was a person of high status. The large cloak that hung down his back all the way to the ground made it exceedingly difficult to tell whether he was actually a mercenary or nobility.

“Oh, selling are we? A nun’s a bit rare.”

A smile came over him, both courteous and treacherous, like an animal’s, as he stretched out his hand to Holo’s chin, turning her face up toward him. Accustomed to such behavior from people, in an instant, Lawrence switched to a merchant down to the bottom of his heart.

“You are the captain of the Myuri Mercenary Company, I presume?”

He stood straight as he spoke, not a single hint of shadow on his smiling face.

When threatened, a mercenary readied for battle by drawing his sword. A merchant readied for battle by pulling a letter out from under his coat with a smile on his face.

“Mm, indeed I am…what, you’re from Delink?”

His hand still touching Holo’s chin, he seemed to know he had assumed wrongly the instant he saw the red seal. He quickly pulled his hand back from Holo’s chin, looking like a still-innocent youth.

“Ah, my mistake. I was sure you’d come selling. Ah, how rude of me. Certainly she’s a bit too beautiful to be merchandise.”

Though giving off a vulgar aura, the smile on his face seemed genuine. The smile he directed at Holo in apology for his rudeness held the calm peculiar to those who had seen conflicts between greedy souls to their bitter ends.

The captain of the Myuri Mercenary Company was a little taken aback that Holo’s expression did not change at all, but he had surely faced many awkward situations, both in battle and in political bargaining. There were no cracks in his smile as he turned back to Lawrence.

“I am indeed Luward Myuri of the Myuri Mercenary Company. And you?”

As he named himself, the way he tossed back his cloak and put his hand on his hip was very mercenary-like. But to Lawrence’s eyes, Luward Myuri was not at all older than he looked. Though Holo certainly had many parts to her that made her seem her apparent age, this one seemed very much human.

And just after he noticed that the seal had changed Luward’s behavior toward Holo somewhat, there was the plop of a drop of water. Luward, too, noticed the sound, looking from the open palm of his hand up to the ceiling, as if rain had leaked in.

Lawrence shifted his gaze toward Holo.

That moment, still expressionless, a tear flowed down Holo’s cheek as she opened her mouth.

“Claw…”

That single word was all Holo muttered to dubious faces from all those around.

Lawrence’s gaze shifted toward Luward’s chest.

Hanging down over it was what appeared to be a pitch-black bull horn.

Lawrence had thought it was merely the sort of lucky charm mercenaries used in the hopes of bringing courage and victory, but the sight of it had Holo rooted to the spot.

When the color of Luward Myuri’s face changed upon hearing that word, he knew that it held some kind of deep meaning to Holo.

“You can tell this is a claw?”

Holo answered his brief question with a nod.

That instant, another tear fell down with a plop.

It was crying suited for a young maiden. These were certainly not tears of joy.

Lawrence interposed himself between Luward and Holo, embracing her by the shoulders.

And Luward turned, looking as if he was about to offer an apology but held it back instead.

“Inside.”

With that single word, the mercenary company captain walked on ahead, brushing aside the merchant-like youth, who watched with no idea what just happened.

No one made a single word of protest.

Lawrence barely moved, either, but as Luward climbed the inner stairway, he finally turned and spoke.

“I have something to ask you.”

Lawrence did not expect anything good.

But there was no way he could refuse.

Just as with noble houses, companies and organizations that stretched across many generations were seldom led by the oldest among them. Often, such individuals served the company or organization before their masters had even been born.

The Myuri Mercenary Company was no exception; the man they called their strategist was a large man with refined, wiry silver hair clipped short, with sideburns stretching all the way down to the fine beard over his chin.

“And I as well?”

With Luward returning to the room, there were likely reports on this matter and that. The strategist, who had been saying something to a youngster just outside the room, was surprised at being ordered to clear everyone out.

“That’s right. No one is to enter this room or even the rooms above or below it.”

Lawrence thought that Luward’s tone of utter finality was a little arrogant, but he had heard that confusion regarding orders often resulted in the annihilation of entire units.

The large man in the role of strategist bore a clear expression of displeasure, but he put his expression and the rest behind him as he stood at attention, his heels clicking, and answered, “As you command,” and left the room, barking orders to an apprentice in a loud voice.

The room was overflowing with signs of an extended stay. Most were preparations for the road, but the bundles of papers and sheets of parchment were likely for engaging persons of influence in every land. What he found a little unexpected were several books of knightly legends. He had thought someone who made his living with real swords and shields would not read such things, but Luward noticed Lawrence’s gaze, laughing as he sat in his chair and spoke.

“I can’t be issuing commands while drinking wine, now can I? Heroic tales in books are just the thing to inspire courage and drive one’s fears away.”

This was indeed a leader in full command of his group.

“Now, then, let’s get down to this, shall we?”

Trust in the speed with which one’s subordinates carried out their duties made for a good master apparently.

Having barely sat down, Luward unhurriedly rose back up and opened a wooden shutter halfway, peering outside. Lawrence felt like the man had become a little nervous. Surely there would not be someone standing outside the window eavesdropping on them?

It was cold, but Luward did not close the window.

It seemed like he could not keep his nerves under control unless all was brought to light.

Lawrence held Holo’s hand.

However, this was less to cheer Holo’s spirits than to stop himself from drowning in his own tension.

“How did you know this is a claw?”

Luward put the necklace that looked like a black bull horn into his hand as he broached the subject. When he showed them the front and back, Lawrence understood that it had been severed in half.

As an ornament, it was large and crude, something one would think only a young man would wear. When Lawrence stretched his fingers straight out, it stretched from the tip of his middle finger to the palm of his hand. Those of high status did not favor such rustic ornaments. The higher class an ornament, the smaller it was.

“Scent.”

Holo made a short reply.

Luward looked at her for a while before nodding.

“You don’t look like an affluent merchant at first glance, but, ah, pardon me. But the Delink Company is stricter about acting in its self-interest than we are. Furthermore, you even have a letter of introduction from the famous shopkeeper Philon. Who in the world are you?”

It was a natural question.

Without taking a deep breath, Lawrence made ready to use the story he had put together in his head beforehand.

Holo’s next sentence interrupted him. “Where did you get this?”

Lawrence immediately let go of Holo’s hand.

The tone of her voice was frigid. He had let go, largely without meaning to, when he had realized that.

Until now, she had kept her head down, looking like a pathetic maiden truly brought here to be sold, crushed under the weight of her own circumstances.

But what was there now was anger.

Depending on the answer she got, there would be no mercy.

Of course, Luward did not falter in the face of such resolute anger.

“Are you asking as to the place?”

Many mercenary company captains were actual members of the nobility. It took a certain level of influence and money to assemble a band of rogues.

Some went from bandits to mercenaries, but Lawrence had often heard that in most cases, it was cabals of hired men bound together by money that became mercenaries.

In other words, Myuri probably had two things going for him.

The first was his bloodline. The second was that he was a leader who could keep rogues in check.

It was possible that faced with such obvious anger, even from a “little girl,” he was simply too proud.

Lawrence considered saying something, but Holo was not ignorant of affairs in the human world. Surely she understood. Under the current circumstances, she just did not care.

“What’s your objective?”

However, Luward did not lose his own temper. Rather, he turned his vigilant eyes toward Holo.

He turned toward not the Holo that Lawrence saw, but rather the slender nun she appeared to be.

He looked somewhat deflated.

“Answer me.”

For a moment, Lawrence mistook who had spoken.

Luward drew his sword with lightning speed the instant after Holo spoke the words.

“That’s my line.” His sword was at Holo’s throat. His swordsmanship was faster than a gale.

But Holo’s slender neck was still attached. The reason was surely that Luward’s temper was not that short.

So Lawrence thought, but the facts told a different tale.

“Answer me,” Holo repeated herself.

Luward’s sword tip distinctly quivered.

The girl who had shown his men her tears was now interrogating him heedless of his sword. It was Luward who was being overwhelmed.

No doubt that alone was bizarre to him. Furthermore, it seemed that what hung from Luward’s neck was no mere decoration to him.

His other hand gripped the claw as he kept his eyes on Holo.

When Luward finally shifted his gaze to his own chest, it was as if two beasts had stared each other down, and he had lost.

“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding. I did not seize this.”

As if surrendering, Luward sheathed his sword, simultaneously fingering the cord fastened to the claw and lightly lifting it up.

This was not how the captain of a mercenary company acted toward a single maiden.

It was as if he knew what lay hidden under Holo’s hood and reacted accordingly.

“I inherited this from my father.”

Luward continued to speak. He paused there for a while, as if waiting to see if Holo wished to interrupt.

“And my father inherited it from his father.”

Holo lifted her face up and looked at Luward.

“And what of the name Myuri?”

Lawrence felt like Luward’s nostrils opened a little. He seemed both angry and surprised.

Reflexively, Lawrence tried to say something sensible. But in that place and time, it was he who was the outsider.

“It’s all right. I’m not angry.” Luward seemed to sense Lawrence’s motion at the edge of his vision. He raised an open palm to Lawrence as he spoke.

Of course, his gaze remained turned toward Holo.

Luward stared at Holo as if he was searching for something in his memories.

And as if trying to pacify an angry wolf, he spoke with discretion and reverence.

“Might I ask what is your name?”

He answered her question with a question.

Usually it was something that drove Holo to anger, but in this place it held a different meaning.

The reverence Luward displayed toward Holo implicitly answered her question.

“Holo.”

Her brief reply made Luward’s eyebrows shoot all the way up. But what startled Lawrence was how Luward then bared his teeth and slapped his forehead.

“How can that be possible?!”

His volume was so great that the edges of the papers in the room shuddered. The voice was suitable for commanding and inspiring troops on the great steppes, and the shudder it caused went straight down to Lawrence’s liver.

Holo, whose excellent ears should have made her sensitive to loud noises, did not even quiver.

It was as if a great boulder had fallen. Lawrence finally understood.

Luward Myuri was the real thing.

“Paro, Kiris, Yue, Inti, Shariemin.”

Luward listed the names in succession. Lawrence remembered having heard them before.

Holo’s expression strained. Her lips began to tremble.

Even Luward’s face was contorted as if stained with tears. Voicelessly, her lips formed the words: I cannot believe it.

“…I heard them many times from my father.”

The mercenary company captain slowly opened his mouth and murmured those words.

“I heard even more from my grandfather.”

Luward approached Holo and took her small hand in his.

As Holo looked back at Luward, she lowered her hood.

When Lawrence had first heard the name of the Myuri Mercenary Company in the town of Lenos, he was distinctly jealous.

He had thought disagreeably of the existence of Myuri, who had lived in the same place in the same era as Holo, and for whom she felt strongly even now.

But there was nothing good that was born from jealousy. You would always regret what came from it, and this moment was no exception.

For a moment it seemed like Holo’s ears would cause Luward to fall over, but his constitution endured; he was fit to be a mercenary.

After taking Holo’s hands, bringing them both together, he removed the pitch-black claw that he wore around his own neck, taking it in his hands.

“The first captain received this when the mercenary company was founded.”

Holo received the claw.

This exchange looked like the final delivery of a message that had been entrusted to them decades, even centuries ago, carried on possibilities as slender as a thread. Perhaps that was indeed very much the case.

As Holo continued to look down upon the claw she had received in her hands, Luward flipped it over atop Holo’s palms. There were characters carved into it.

Lawrence could tell that the characters were very old, but nothing more.

However, it appeared Holo did understand them. In an instant, tears poured out.

“It says, ‘It’s been a while.’”

As she spoke, she cried, her shoulders shaking, and smiled.

She smiled, sobbed, wiped her tears away, and cried again.

Luward gently put his hands on Holo’s shoulders, seemingly looking at Lawrence for the first time. It seemed that besides being a fine leader for a mercenary company, he was a fine gentleman as well.