Spice and Wolf - Volume 16 - Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next day, as soon as Lawrence awoke, he searched for Holo with his eyes.

Of course it was meaningless; his face reddened as soon as he realized what he was doing.

Since he thought Holo was charming when she searched for him with her eyes, she probably would think the same thing of him. With no noise in the quiet room save that which came from the bustling street outside through the wooden shutters, Lawrence scratched his face, sighing.

He went out to the inner courtyard of the inn, greeted the mercenaries training and chatting there a bit, and picked up a beard trimmer. Even though he had done this hundreds of times over, it just did not refresh him.

Of course he was well aware of why.

Holo.

Even though he knew she would be gone for only a few days, it was like when a knife one was used to was out for repairs; one felt a certain emptiness in their hand. He really should have insisted on going to Yoitsu with Holo without paying the town of Lenos any heed. The only good thing about Holo not being here was that he could entertain such embarrassing thoughts without hesitation.

After indulging in his reverie, Lawrence went into town and changed all the silver coins he had with him into gold coins. Normally one would have to go to the exchange administered by the Debau Company to trade for gold lumione, but now that speculation had begun on the new silver coins, everyone wanted silver coins badly enough to pull them out of people’s throats.

The money changers at the market were paying unbelievable prices compared to gold coins.

In a normal town, if speculation grew too heated, the councilors and guild masters would scold them suitably into line.

If clergy did not pray, farmers did not till, and warriors did not fight, but were instead wholly absorbed by gambling, anyone could imagine what would result for the town.

However, this was a town of freedom and hope. Lawrence sensed no one trying to stop people from speculating on silver coins. Indeed, the faction in control of the Debau Company might well have been fanning the flames.

The higher the price of silver coins climbed, the greater the profit that would line their pockets. Even though a silver coin, no matter how far it might travel, was in the end just a piece of silver with a symbol stamped on it, its price could climb to the heavens themselves.

Lawrence obtained gold coins in wide circulation from a street lined with jam-packed money changers. Unlike silver, gold coins did not tarnish or corrode; they always glittered. Lawrence had of course never seen gold coins or the like in the cold village where he was born; even when traveling between towns and villages with his master, it took him several years for him to lay eyes on a gold coin.

And when he actually saw a real gold coin in person, Lawrence then truly understood why gold had occupied a special place in human history. With their glitter and weight, they were like a condensed form of what was precious in the world. Gold made people prostrate themselves before it, as if they could not imagine treating it lightly.

Of course, gold lumione had a particular symbol stamped on it, but the pattern stamped on a gold coin was largely irrelevant. For gold was respected more than any long-dead ruler.

But unlike gold coins, which rarely showed their face in the market due to their value, the same was not true for silver coins, which dominated day-to-day trading.

That was why, as Lawrence came across a couple of mercenaries with time to kill chatting about various things across the land, the motif for the new currency suddenly came up.

“I think it’ll be a ruler’s face like usual.”

So spoke a man with a large scar at the edge of one eye.

“Really? Well which ruler, then? Or they gonna put a whole bunch of faces?”

“Well…how ’bout the head of the Debau Company?”

Even if they looked rustic, mercenaries’ knowledge and observations were more informed than one might think. Their observations were broadened from having walked between numerous towns and seen many things. An exceptional person might gain insight without seeing anything, but even a normal person could greatly broaden their field of vision through experience.

That was one of the small number of forward-looking teachings Lawrence received from his master.

“There’s no way the rulers would forgive the head of a company stamping his face onto a coin. Besides, who is he anyway? His face ain’t gonna put any value on a coin.”

“…Well, whose face do you think they’ll put on it?”

“Who knows?”

The mercenary made a large, deft shrug of his shoulder and placed a bet on a card atop a table.

“Mr. Merchant, what do you think?”

He passed the question off to Lawrence, who was watching the game.

Of course they knew he was on good terms with Luward and Moizi.

But Lawrence, who felt a bit tense, as if he was standing before vicious beasts, replied thusly. “Since they’re a mining company, I was thinking they might put a pick or something on it.”

“Oh, I see. A pick. Could be that, sure.”

There had been groups that had raised iron pots instead of cloth as their banner of war.

The important thing was that one instantly knew who they were and exactly where they stood in the grand scheme of things. Normally, one needed the backing of a person of influence to issue a currency; that’s why the face of a ruler was stamped.

So, with the faces of so many rulers lined up behind a currency with such a large number of coins, the chances the motif would be something other than a person were quite high.

“Still, it seems kind of a waste to stamp a pick on top of a coin.”

“A waste?”

“Well, ain’t it? I mean, it’s the perfect chance to spread your face around.”

“Idiot. There’s too many people who wanna spread their face, there’s no room to put ’em all!”

“Ah, yeah.”

Their voices rose in hearty laughter.

“But if it’s a pick, a lot of people won’t like that, I bet.”

Having somehow made his decision, the mercenary discarded a card.

As he spoke, another person discarded a card, and yet another drew a card on top of that one, to which all the remaining people instantly yelled, “Bastard!” as they tossed their cards away.

“No good, no good. Crap.”

As such words came out of their mouths, they tossed crude copper coins on top of the table.

The man who drew the last card laughed as he gathered up the coins, murmuring, “I wonder,” as he stuffed them in his bag.

“Thanks to mine excavatin’ the place I was born’s turned into deep holes and muddy water. Won’t stampin’ a pick on a coin stir up trouble with folks?”

Those who appeared to have lost were reaching for their drinks when they made “Mm…” sounds as the words made them think.

“Don’t it make ya think? Somethin’ stinks about this whole business.”

“And what’s that?”

“Who knows. But let me tell ya…”

And perhaps switching to his card game face, one of them looked all around as he stretched his hand over the table, flipping one coin onto its back.

“It’s nice if you can use a ruler whose face you know. I like Reggie the Bold, duke of the duchy of Golbea. That’s why I’m sorry I can’t use that silver coin no more.”

It was the name of a king worthy of a gallant tale, but the child of his favorite duke had been assassinated and his position as king had been usurped. Of course, the currency in circulation stamped with the face of the previous king was melted down, and use of the old currency became a crime. It was a textbook example of forbidding the use of the enemy’s currency.

“Well, there is that. But there’s going to be trouble stirred up no matter whose face you put on it,” said a comparatively older man.

And he was probably right.

Currency should be just that, currency—not a tool for promoting the names of people of influence.

Indeed, in many cases, that became an obstacle to the currency coming into wider circulation.

Because the right to mint currency had been largely synonymous with the right to rule, issuing currency had become a symbol of authority more than a means to make money.

“It’s better for us that trouble is stirred up, though.” So said another person.

“No doubt there.”

Hearty laughter arose once more. The conversation shifted to who was each person’s favorite ruler.

Some of the names Lawrence knew; some he did not. What kept him from leaving was that the conversation made the blood flow much more than those between merchants.

Merchants did not usually talk with one another about whom such and such got along with or did not like. When two merchants dealt with each other, it was because there was money to be made or payment to be disputed or so forth; in the end, what was important was whether money was being made or not.

But right now, he thought of such easy-to-understand fundamentals as very precious. If everything was as simple as that, the world would be a better place for it, he thought to himself.

Because this person did not get along with that other person, hundreds of currencies were necessary.

To put it bluntly, it was inconvenient.

Convenient was better than inconvenient.

He felt that what the Debau Company was trying to do was indeed correct.

He thought that to use force to interfere with or even destroy that goal for profit was living in the old era.

He wanted Hilde to do well, and for that purpose, he wanted Holo to return quickly.

As he left the card-playing mercenaries and wandered about the town, he kept thinking as much.

He thought it more logical that money should move forward as something for calculating profit and loss, with nothing to do with recognition or authority.

In the end, it was rulers who were causing upheaval within the Debau Company.

He wondered why they were such fools.

Indeed, it was best that something other than men of influence be stamped upon a currency.

If not what the mercenaries had guessed, he wondered what motif would indeed be suitable.

It was close to an enigma; Lawrence just could not grasp it.

While eating supper with Luward and Moizi, even as subjects wandered from increasing signs of cracks in the Debau Company, how they would proceed toward Yoitsu, and a few other less-dignified subjects, he continued thinking about it the whole time.

Though it was true the matter simply rubbed him the wrong way, the real reason was the empty feeling in his hand.

When he returned to the silent room by himself, all he wanted to do was go to bed as quickly as possible.

There was nothing he could do to cooperate with Hilde; he had no time to do anything that would make money. He realized that with nothing to do, his heart was not at ease. Rather, he was feeling very lonely.

When a person traded, there was always someone else to trade with. Everything began with the expectation that others would respond to one’s own words as a matter of course.

Lawrence realized that right now, the thread connecting him to the rest of the world had been severed.

Holo had probably felt like that for centuries while in the village’s wheat field. When he thought about it, he had a feeling that the silence and loneliness in the wheat field would have driven him mad.

Holo was indeed quite an extraordinary person, he thought to himself.

If all went well, Holo would return two or three nights hence at the earliest. Even if that was not so, Hilde’s bird companion would return to inform them of the situation at least.

He hoped everything would go well.

It did not happen very often, he thought, but precisely because of that, it would be nice if it happened once in a while.

Disputes petering out, problems resolved; everyone would move forward without hesitation. And he would set up his store, with Holo by his side and trustworthy subordinates under him. If he wanted, he could groom a successor.

But, he thought impudently, that successor would surely have a wolf’s ears and tail. He would pretend that slap back in Lenos never happened.

He wondered if one could not snip the ears and tail with a pair of scissors.

After cutting them off, he would just have to ask Norah to handle the stitches.

No, that would get Holo angry, maybe he could get Eve to do it? Oh, Holo’s angry, pounding the table more and more. Do not be so pouty. If it means so much to you, you can do it yourself. Although with a crude personality like yours, I’m not sure you could even put thread through the eye of a needle…

Lawrence meant to think about all of that, but he had apparently dozed off somewhere along the line.

He suddenly awoke in the pitch-dark room.

The pounding sound was not Holo pounding the table, but the sound of knocks on the door.

“Yes!” he replied loudly from atop the bed, and the knocking stopped.

Who could it be?

Just as he thought it, the door opened on its own.

“Mr. Lawrence.”

A seasoned voice entered the room along with the glow of a candle.

There stood Moizi, with one of the youngsters with him.

Illuminated by the candle’s glow beneath it, Moizi’s face looked very serious.

“I’m sorry, it seems I fell asleep…What is it?”

When Lawrence got off the bed, he realized he had been sleeping with all his clothes on.

He adjusted his sleeves and collar, but before he was finished grooming, Moizi spoke.

“They are raising troops.”

“Eh?”

As Lawrence asked back, Moizi’s gaze did not waver one bit, delivering a hard fact as straight as a tightly pulled shoelace.

“The Debau Company has decided to raise troops.”

Instantly, he felt like his body was being pulled backward into the darkness.

For the meaning was all too clear.

Even before the arrival of the forbidden book, Hilde had lost.

“I think we shall move up our timetable and depart tonight.”

Certainly, it was quiet inside the inn, but there was an odd stirring within. No doubt Moizi’s subordinates were preparing for their march in great haste.

“What will you do, Mr. Lawrence?”

Moizi asked his question, but Lawrence was somewhat hesitant.

After all, for a mercenary company to leave a town when troops were being summoned for conflict was a display of noncooperation with the Debau Company. That did not mean it would be instantly recognized as a foe, but if a single traveling merchant, having been given so much consideration by that mercenary company, stayed behind, it would be small surprise if he was suspected of being a spy.

Even if Lawrence’s position was under scrutiny, he could not hide himself like some trained spy.

If he came under suspicion, he was in a place ruled by the Debau Company where no one would complain if he was decapitated following an interrogation. The level of danger was incalculable.

However, Lawrence had made a pledge to Hilde.

He did not think the forbidden book would serve any benefit at this stage; he did not think remaining behind could do any bit of good whatsoever. Even so, Hilde had exhausted all other options, clinging to the book, with considerable doubts remaining as to the verity of its contents, as his single thread of hope. Consequently, Hilde had no proper path of escape in spite of this turn of events. Knowing this, Lawrence could not simply drop everything and run with his tail between his legs.

Lawrence had cooperated in handing the forbidden book over because he thought it would bring him no small profit.

Therefore, the decision was no small responsibility.

“There’s someone I want to contact.”

“Contact?”

But his face did not brighten any, for surely meeting Hilde would be no easy thing.

“We’re preparing to flee because of the sudden summons by the town. The fact the summons for raising troops came out at night is proof someone accustomed to warfare is at the Debau Company. Once morning comes, there’ll be no choice but to cooperate with them. But those who are not at all prepared cannot just leave town during the night, even if it means yielding to the summons. A deft move.”

Moizi’s praise of those who had decided to raise troops meant that even without saying, it was all too clear what would happen to those on the opposing side.

And no doubt that was actually the case.

Lawrence immediately wondered if Hilde was still alive.

“Still…I must meet him.”

Moizi stared straight at Lawrence.

After pausing for a moment, the nod Moizi gave was no doubt his acceptance that he was a mercenary and the other man was a merchant.

“Shall I send someone with you?”

It was a very kind offer. Lawrence shook his head side to side.

“Very soon our preparations will be finished and we shall head out. The route we’re taking is southeast, through the section past the butcher shop. There might be old comrades who wish to flee with us, so we’ll be waiting outside the town for them for a little while. If you can make it in time, by all means…”

He must have said similar things to people he had left behind on numerous battlefields. The way Moizi said it exuded the thought, We’ll be thinking of you.

Lawrence made a firm nod and asked, “Any sign of danger outside?”

“There is no sense of panic from so-called tidings of war. I think there is no danger of robbery or murder. But the Debau Company surely has people watching to see where and how others will move. In that sense, I cannot recommend strolling about.”

Surely, what made Moizi and the other one so calm was that they had no doubt faced the far more desperate situation of being surrounded by town walls many times over. The youngster beside him bore a face like a child who had set something on fire in a far-off district under cover of darkness.

“You’ve been of great assistance.” Lawrence spoke the departing words proper for any traveling merchant.

All Moizi replied was, “May you allow us to aid you once more.”

“By all means.”

Moizi and the youngster alike spoke with earnest faces. “May the fortunes of war favor you.”

A little while later, the mercenaries quietly left the inn.

When he looked down at the town from his room, the atmosphere was certainly odd.

These past several days, without exception, there had still been many people dancing and drinking at this hour, but there had been something shabby about it all.

Like a festering wound, there was no longer only the degenerate atmosphere, like overripe pomegranates; he felt a kind of refined ill will hidden somewhere.

Assembling mercenaries meant with certainty that real power within the Debau Company had shifted.

In kingdoms and dominions, it was normal for a new ruling faction to kill off the old. There was no reason to suffer to live those who might come for one’s head while one slept. Decapitation was so accepted that a new king merely exiling the old ruling faction was considered shocking leniency to many among the masses.

However, a trading company was not such a simple beast. Trading involved special knowledge and acquaintances in numerous places—things one did not acquire in a single day. Surely there were not many people they could find to replace Hilde, let alone the owner of Debau.

In that sense, Lawrence did not think they would be killed so lightly.

However, it could be done at any time. One light swing of a sword and a man’s head would fall. He knew well from public executions in the towns he had visited what a mysteriously easy thing it was.

As he gazed out the window, he had no sense of being watched by anyone, but as he was not Holo, he did not want to put much faith in that.

Having nowhere else to go, with all others having left, he remained in his room.

Besides, clumsily moving about the town would backfire if Hilde did want to make contact with Lawrence.

The situation was bad. It was better to leave town while he still could. He was separated far from Holo, but if he left word at this and that town he would no doubt meet her again in no time.

But he wanted to meet with Hilde before that, even if only for a brief moment. He did not want to speak of plans to strike back. Lawrence had neither the intellect nor the courage for such a thing. If he could, he wanted to persuade Hilde to flee without attempting anything rash.

Even though Hilde was a Debau Company insider, he was a comrade of Holo’s in a broad sense. Lawrence thought he wanted to save Hilde all the more because, morality-wise, Hilde too wanted to bring peace and tranquility to this land. For Hilde, fighting for his own ideals, to continue to fight until death after having lost any chance of victory would not be an amusing tale to anyone’s ears.

That being the case, he thought it better for Hilde to escape with at least his life and aim to recover later.

More than anything, if Hilde did not perish, Holo would not have to see yet another ember from her own era extinguished.

To Lawrence, that was more important than anything else.

It was then that he heard a sound from downstairs.

Since the Myuri Mercenary Company had rented the entirety of the inn, the inn’s owner and servants, which would ordinarily be occupying the building, were staying at a nearby residence. Now that the mercenaries renting the inn were gone, there should not have been anyone there.

That being the case, the potential visitors were very few.

Lawrence adjusted his collar, cleared his throat a little, double-checked the location of his dagger, and left the room.

The inn felt much colder without any people in it.

His breath was turning white, making him realize all over again just how much a building was warmed by the people inside it.

As his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he went downstairs without a candlestick.

As he heard small sounds, the sound of his heart grew heavier.

When Lawrence moved to leisurely head out through the first-floor tavern, he sensed a faint light coming from the hallway that continued to the rear entrance. When he headed that way, the door of the back entrance was slightly ajar.

It was difficult for him to believe that in an inn rented by a mercenary company even keener eyed than a merchant, someone would have just forgotten to close the door. Lawrence stayed put and thought about it for a while when he finally noticed something white in the corner of his vision.

“Mr. Hilde?”

To the side of the rear entrance was a storage shed without a door.

When Lawrence called out in a low voice, a single hare appeared without hesitation.

However, the hare was not uniformly white. There was an incision from a stab behind the shoulder of his front right leg, leaving his fur ripped. His right forepaw was as crimson as if it had been dipped in a vat of dye.

Lawrence did not need to ask what had happened.

“Mr. Hilde, are you all right?”

“Yes…I have not been killed, at the least.”

The hare’s face remained impassive as a falsely brave smile came over Lawrence.

“What’s the situation?”

As Lawrence inquired, Hilde’s long ears promptly moved, speaking in an energetic tone that belied his wounds. “There is no time. I will convey only that most crucial.”

There was no mistaking the fact that he was on the run.

“The radicals have seized complete power. They have forced the signature of a document transferring all authority. I and my master have lost power. However, they know it will be difficult to manage the company without us. I believe it is not likely they will kill us.”

That perfectly matched Lawrence’s expectations.

The words that came next did, too.

“However, I am not giving up.” As Hilde spoke, he turned around and hopped, dragging his leg, going inside the shed.

He returned right away, holding a sealed scroll in his mouth.

“Also considering that Miss Holo will obtain the book, I must not give up now.”

“…What do you intend to do?” Lawrence inquired.

The Debau Company possessed silver and copper bountiful enough, it was as if they flowed right out of a well. Even with Holo, this was absolutely not an opponent Lawrence could take on, all the more so now with it filled with fervor and vigor. He wondered how one might fight the lords among their allies.

“If one leaves this town and heads northeast along roads passing through the mountains, there is a town there called Svernel.”

When Lawrence thought about it, he realized he had heard the name of that town from Luward’s lips.

“Svernel is one of the few towns to oppose us until the bitter end. As wool and amber circulate through it, they no doubt believe they will lose their position. Also, it occupies a critical position geographically, so it is an easy place for those who see us as enemies to gather together. So, please…”

With that, Hilde used his nose to push the sealed scroll at his feet toward Lawrence.

“…deliver this there. It contains a request for aid in stopping the radicals.”

On the theory that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, no doubt.

However, Lawrence hesitated to agree to it.

“My bird comrade knows that Svernel was my fallback plan. It is not likely he would be separated from Miss Holo. Ah yes, I do have another letter as well.”

Hilde looked at Lawrence as he spoke.

He seemed to be mistaking Lawrence’s hesitation for wondering why there were two letters.

“There is a lord farther north of Svernel who is uncooperative with us. Nearly all of the lords in that area are against us. They cannot cooperate with those who ravage the land and who bring about change, they say. Once they hear of the radicals, they may well rise up.”

It was precisely because these lords had not buckled to the Debau Company’s overwhelming power and momentum that made them reassuring allies for bringing the current Debau Company to heel. Certainly, that way of thinking might well be correct; at the very least, Lawrence thought it might serve as something to cling to in this situation.

However, despite the smile on Hilde’s face after he spoke, his expression looked close to tears.

His heart broken, Hilde had been worn down to the point it was astounding he had not given up.

“I beg you, Mr. Lawrence. Deliver these letters to Svernel. And with Miss Holo, please shatter the momentum of the radicals.”

Hilde’s right foreleg seemed to have lost nearly all its strength.

That was why the attitude he took seemed extremely unnatural before Lawrence’s eyes.

What made Lawrence wince was how he looked like a man with business left unfinished, clinging to this world even after death. It looked like the matter had already been completely decided. If he was to follow the logic as a merchant, it was absolutely impossible to turn this situation around.

There were no other words that he should have been saying.

But no words came out at all.

Persuading someone of something meant changing their way of thinking.

He did not think any half-baked persuasion would have a chance of success against someone well and truly prepared to die.

And yet, faced with someone unafraid of death and resolved to die for his beliefs, Lawrence was unable to accept Hilde’s letters.

He could not irresponsibly get drawn into the other side’s tale.

Let alone when that tale seemed to be above the clouds themselves.

As Lawrence made no move, Hilde called out his name. “Mr. Lawrence.”

Lawrence suddenly regained his senses and looked at Hilde.

The wounded Hilde looked up at Lawrence, his face expressionless as he spoke.

“Do you believe the conflict is already decided?”

As Hilde had seen right through him to the core of his being, Lawrence could not smooth over his expression.

However, Hilde only strengthened his tone even further.

“I have encountered many crises thus far and have overcome them all, you see. I will overcome this one as well. Though this time…” He glanced behind his shoulder. “…the odds are particularly poor.”

On Lawrence’s travels with Holo, Lawrence had seen a number of situations where there had been no visible option but to give up. Even so, he was here now because he absolutely had not given up; had his being bad at surrender ever backfired, he might well be on a slave ship or in the ground right now.

He thought himself rather conceited in wanting to use logic to dissuade another from digging his heels in.

Hilde was without doubt the main character of Hilde’s tale. He had conquered all difficulties so far, having earned his great successes. So it was natural Hilde would think, I shall not yield to this difficulty, either.

But for the first time, Lawrence felt how cruel this looked when viewed objectively.

He knew it was already too late for Hilde. The only one who did not know it was him, still believing that the goddess of fortune was on his side.

Lawrence averted his eyes, for he could not hold onto the words he should have spoken.

“I decided I would move forward with Debau, that I would absolutely not stray from the path, come what may. Perhaps that makes an idiot of me, but I think it just fine nonetheless.”

Hearing such resolve put him in a corner. Lawrence lifted a hand to restrain him.

Hilde did not retreat an inch.

“I strive to know how difficult it is to survive just for the sake of surviving. It is the same as being alone in all the world. Mr. Lawrence, I believe that you understand the meaning of these words. That is why you and Miss Holo, in human form—”

“Please stop.” As Hilde halted his words, Lawrence said once again, “Please stop. There are things one can cooperate with and things one cannot. That applies even between Holo and I.”

He understood Hilde’s feelings in absolutely not wanting to give in, but Lawrence had praised Holo for giving up so many things.

Giving things up was essential and in no way made one a beaten dog.

There truly are things one must give up to be able to move forward.

He wondered which held true in Hilde’s instance.

Lawrence and Hilde stared firmly at each other.

“Please take care of the letters.”

That was all Hilde said before hopping off.

Lawrence did not budge an inch even now, moving only his mouth.

“I won’t accept them.”

For a moment, those words stopped Hilde in his tracks, but in the end, he resumed hopping off without turning. Lawrence wondered how many allies Hilde had amid this overwhelming, sudden reversal of fortune. There probably was not anyone left who could take that letter to Svernel.

As Hilde’s small body wobbled, he vanished out of the gap of the back entrance’s door through which a red light filtered. The door gently closed, and all that remained were the two letters and silence. Lawrence did not think delivering them would change the state of the battle; if he was not careful, the Debau Company would have his head removed as a saboteur.

However, to simply deliver them was no impossible thing.

Lawrence thought as much but shook his head and told himself to think clearly. If he was to deliver the letters, what advantage was there for him? What was it that he could lose? Everything could be thought of in terms of loss and gain, and that’s how he needed to think.

Those who held views antagonistic to the Debau Company to begin with might well raise the flag of rebellion in spite of their great fear. Surely the current Debau Company was something to fear all the more.

Hilde no doubt thought that if the Debau Company’s advance on Svernel could be temporarily halted, gaps would arise that could be exploited. When steel cools, it is far more difficult to work it into the shape one desires. And weighing profit and loss doing business in swords and shields was everyday work for Hilde and his ilk. If it were so, the Debau Company might well be put back in its sheath.

However, all of this depended on talk like “maybe” and “therefore.” In the present situation, it was abundantly clear just how much of a dream the town was. Hilde and Debau’s hopes would be smashed, the utopia they had given birth to trampled under the feet of soldiers. In this world, not everyone’s dreams could come true. It pained Lawrence, too. It was unfortunate.

Hilde and Debau had failed before reaching the very last step.

It was idiotic to cling to one’s expectations like this. No matter how magnificent and sublime the story had been, surely it could not be more important than their lives.

Lawrence closed his fists, left the letters as they were, and walked away. With negotiations having broken down, all Lawrence could do was to rendezvous with the Myuri Mercenary Company and make himself at least a tiny bit safer.

That was the correct choice; there was nothing mistaken about it whatsoever.

He was not saying every single ember that threatened him had to be snuffed out, but there was no reason to toss himself into the cauldron of hell. There was every possibility that surrendering the forbidden book would backfire. Furthermore and most importantly, Lawrence and Holo had no reason to place themselves directly in danger. Quite the contrary, carrying the letters to Svernel looked without hope, and such action would put him at direct personal risk.

Logically, everything added up; Holo would surely agree.

If there was nothing that could be done, surely it meant he needed to give up, make his escape, and live for the future.

However, the more distance Lawrence put between himself and the storage shed, the more painful his heart grew and the heavier his steps.

He was of course painfully aware of what the cause was.

It went without saying once more that, just as if one had something they must do but had no time to do it, being unable to trust someone meant being all alone in the world.

A traveling merchant wanted a store of his own because he wanted a physical place he could call home. He wanted something to serve as the result of his successes.

And above all else, he wanted a store to leave behind after he passed away; if a person had someone they trusted to succeed them, there surely existed no better way to move on in peace.

Lawrence knew how marvelous such good fortune was. He was frighteningly aware of just how trusting someone and being trusted by that someone provided the fuel to live on.

And now Hilde had probably lost both.

The hare on the run wanted to say this to Lawrence: It is unfair for only you to be happy.

“Shit.”

Lawrence spat it out. It was as though Hilde had cast a curse upon him.

If Lawrence had been able to be happy while watching the happiness of others die, he would likely have been a merchant with a bit more money.

As he returned to his room and put his belongings in order, he felt like his body was being ripped apart. Even so, he clenched his teeth, telling himself that giving up was the right decision here.

He could not stop for someone bringing himself to the point of death.

Hilde was prepared to die for the sake of the dream in his heart; that was indeed his wish.

For but a single moment, Lawrence had become intermingled with Holo’s tragic story and so had come to cooperate with her.

He had been swept about right and left as a minor character on the stage; this did not bother him.

He was a merchant. He knew well enough what happened sooner or later to merchants that did not follow calculations of loss and profit.

He reminded himself of this as he packed up his things and moved to leave the room.

The moment he extended his hand toward the door, he heard the voice of a drunkard from outside the window.

“Ho, what’s this?”

Lawrence instantly understood that the man was rather drunk from his stupidly, pointlessly loud voice. Though that was nothing remarkable in a town in such high spirits, what sounded strange to his ears was what followed afterward.

“Hey, this is great. Ya found a great thing here, lad.”

“Grace of God, huh? This’ll make a great souvenir.”

“A tasty-lookin’ hare, ain’t it?”

Every hair on Lawrence’s body stood up at those words.

“Aw, it’s hurt. Fled here from someone’s kitchen maybe?”

“Who cares about that. I don’t see anyone close so let’s take it with us.”

“Yeah, let’s do…mm? Oh, it’s still alive.”

Instantly, Lawrence cast his baggage aside and flew out of the room.

He rushed down the stairs, darted through the tavern, and plunged into the narrow, dark corridor.

He opened the back entrance door Hilde had left through only just before, flying into the street, looking left to right and back.

In the corner of a street not even a block away, a pair of drunks were looking toward the ground.

There was no mistake—it was Hilde who they were prodding with their feet.

“Hey, don’t run off now.”

“That’d be trouble. Snap ’is neck.”

“Oh? Ohh yeah, let’s do that.”

The man raised one foot.

The same moment, Lawrence yelled out.

“Please, wait!”

The night was getting late. Lawrence’s voice reverberated well; the two drunks noticed him immediately.

“Please, wait!”

“Mm?”

“That hare.”

Lawrence pointed as he ran. The drunks looked at their own feet.

They looked at the wounded, limp hare and then looked back at Lawrence.

“Whaaat? You tryin’ to swipe this hare from under our noses?”

It was a crudely spoken threat that could only be explained by booze.

Lawrence did not have time to discuss this. He did not know if the vigilantes might hear the ruckus and come. If one of the men who was after Hilde were among them that would be the end of that.

“No, that hare ran off in the middle of the cooking. I’ve been looking for it the whole time since. So this is in thanks.”

Instead of drawing his dagger from his hip, Lawrence loosened his money bag and fished out silver coins. He would not be called stingy. One silver trenni per person, two pieces altogether. By rights, that was enough to purchase an entire cage filled with hares.

As the drunkards saw his hand push the coins toward them, they were at a loss for words.

And the moment after they realized the value of what they held in their hands, they practically jumped as they distanced themselves from the hare.

“Ah, er, sorry ’bout that. Had no idea he’d run off from a nobleman’s house.”

There was no way anyone normal would have offered silver trenni for a single hare.

The drunks looked at each other and ran off, fearful of the consequences.

Lawrence watched their backs as the pair ran off. He then looked down at Hilde.

He was wounded, on his side, his fur pathetically exposed.

Like this, it was enough to doubt whether he was alive at all.

Hilde no longer had anyone left he could ask for aid.

Perhaps his allies had fled in fear; Lawrence knew not if they had even betrayed him.

He understood that at the very least, lying upon the road, disgracefully exposed like this, no one would come to his aid. He had narrowly avoided being killed by a drunk just a few moments before.

Until but a short time ago, he was in the midst of a grand scheme that ought to have made him akin to the conqueror of the world. But what came instead was ignominiously betrayed and abandoned, and now he was fighting hard to recover. He was in the vortex of a tale so dramatic that he could not make any complaint—a tale of having been felled by betrayal on the very cusp of the success of one’s dream.

For everyone who succeeded in the world, their successes were thanks to the many who had failed, their own tales vanishing into the darkness. Hilde was soon to join them.

Even so, together with the Debau Company, Hilde had shown Lawrence and other town merchants a dream, if only for one moment. He would never forget that elation, as if they could conquer the whole world.

But they had lost to the lords, or rather, to the lord-like avarice mixed with old blood. No doubt they had faced many challengers in the past, all having fallen without anyone knowing.

Lawrence still was not inclined to join in. Practical problems stood in the way; more than anything else, however, they had to have been well resolved before crossing this dangerous bridge.

But he had become inclined to help.

Where there was life, one could recover. What would become of him if he lost sight of what was important?

After all, it was also the truth that accomplishing great deeds was not the only meaning to life.

Lawrence lifted Hilde’s tiny body into his arms, returned to the inn to retrieve the two letters, and put his things in order.

A little while later, he safely caught up to Luward and the others.

Hilde’s small body was like the corpse of a dream.