Spice and Wolf - Volume 20 - Chapter 4

BLUE DREAMS AND WOLF

The sky turned a deeper blue and the smell of greenery wafted from the forest. In the mountains of the hot spring village Nyohhira, where half the year was spent covered in snow, summer had finally arrived.

Lawrence, the master of the bathhouse Spice and Wolf, inhaled a lungful of the summer air, but it was something else entirely that let him know of the season’s arrival.

“…Honestly.”

It was when he took the ink from the record book back to the bedroom. Lawrence opened the door and sighed, exasperated.

He had wondered where his wife, Holo, might be since he had not seen her around the bathhouse, but there she was, sleeping soundly on the bed. On the desk by the bed was a cup of ale, still mostly full, so she had probably ended up nodding off after taking several sips from it as she gazed at the sky.

Leaving the window open in this season allowed the cool breeze to brush against his cheek while birdsongs tickled his ears. There was no greater luxury than spending the days lazily watching the clouds float by in the bright blue sky.

In the middle of it all was Holo, who resembled a silly-looking cat as she lay on her back with her mouth half open. Her right hand rested on her stomach and rose and fell with her soft snoring.

As he watched her, he saw her right hand occasionally scratch her stomach, and he smiled wryly.

The way she slept on the bed made her appear as if she were only a girl of just over ten years old, and it was tempting to say that it was very unbecoming of a girl her age, but alas—Holo was not the girl she seemed to be. Her true form was that of a giant wolf that lived in wheat and controlled its harvest.

And so on her head were wolf ears that were covered in the same flax-colored fur as her regular hair, and a fluffy tail grew from her backside. The hairs on her tail, which she could not go without maintaining, fluttered in the gentle breeze drifting in from the window.

Her wolflike features were not limited to her ears and tail but also in the way she slept.

In the winter, Holo curled up facedown like a wolf, but as it grew warmer she stretched her body farther and farther out. At this time of year, her arms and legs were splayed out in all directions and she lay on her back. There was nothing that frightened her in this world, simply enjoying it as it was.

How peaceful she seemed—foolish even.

Holo would without a doubt grow angry if she found out that Lawrence marked the passing of the seasons by how she slept.

And of course, he would no longer be able to look forward to it every year, so he took great care to hide it.

This year, too, after enjoying watching Holo for a moment, he dropped his gaze to the desk beside the bed. A quill and paper still sat out on it, and beside some writing was a rather crude drawing. It was of the currants they gathered yesterday, and there were a few berries sitting on the paper.

Currants were not inedible on their own, but they were sour enough to pucker one’s face. Holo would occasionally eat the sour berries on their own on purpose to fluff up her tail much larger than usual.

The heaps of currants they gathered in this season were sometimes dipped in sugar, boiled in honey, or made into a form of alcohol.

Lawrence picked up one of the black berries and played with it in his hand. Then, after looking out the window and taking a deep breath, he sat at the edge of the bed Holo slept on.

After he gazed for a few moments at her sleeping face, relaxed with eyes still closed, he picked up the currant in his palm with two fingers and placed it gently on her lips.

Her wolf ears stood up straight and her eyelids briefly fluttered so he thought she might wake up, but she gave no indication of doing so. Rather, with her wolflike caution nowhere to be seen, her lips did not even tighten.

The gluttonous great wisewolf’s lips began moving in a chewing motion the moment food touched her lips, even in her sleep, and the currant berry went down quickly—

“Nom…Mmm…”

It was just after she bit into the berry.

“Mmmmmmmm!”

It was so sour, Holo leaped up.

“Mn, ngh…Guh. Wh-what on—?!”

As though she had unconsciously swallowed it the moment she jumped awake, Holo patted her throat and her chest.

Lawrence, amused by her agitation, handed her the ale she had started drinking and forgotten about. Holo took advantage of the situation and clung to it, then it seemed she finally understood what was going on. It would not be difficult to put it together after seeing the currants on the desk and Lawrence, who sat at the edge of the bed, smiling.

The fire in her reddish-amber eyes glinted.

“…You…fool!”

A long time ago, Lawrence would have trembled in fear when seeing such a show of ferocity, but it had been over ten years since he and Holo married. He took the now-empty mug from Holo’s hands as she threatened to bite him and wiped away the white froth around her mouth with his thumb.

“You up now?”

Holo glared at the smiling Lawrence, grasped his wrist with both hands, and forcefully wiped her mouth on him. At last, she bit the back of his hand and grumpily looked away in a huff.

“And what on earth is the meaning of this?!”

The vain Holo did not deal with surprise very well. While too much would really push her into a bad mood, he probably would not be punished if he occasionally saw this side of her to soothe the blues of work.

Lawrence reached out to stroke her head, but she swatted his hand away.

He adored her so much when she pouted, but he had to speak before she truly got angry with him.

“I’ve got some work for you. It’s your turn now.”

“…”

She gave him a grumpy, sidelong glance before sighing and getting out of bed.

Lawrence spread a large, aged map on the table, and the puff of dust that came from it made Holo sneeze.

“Sniff…What is this?”

Holo asked with displeasure as she rubbed her nose, and when he heard hear, Lawrence looked even more displeased.

“You don’t remember?”

“Hmm?”

Holo stared back at him blankly, but after looking between Lawrence’s face and the map, she mumbled in recognition.

“Ah…Achoo! Sniff…And why have you brought out such an old thing?”

It sounded like she finally remembered.

There were all sorts of notes written on the map spread before them, and there was a stain on one part from spilled alcohol.

It was the map Lawrence and Holo had made to pinpoint a good place to build a bathhouse when they started up their business here in Nyohhira. In other words, it was an old treasure map to let them find their home in the northlands.

“Once the treasure is found, a treasure map no longer has any use. I forgot about it entirely. That Myuri gazed at it once or twice at least, did she not?”

Lawrence reached out to wipe Holo’s nose with a handkerchief, and her tail flopped about as she spoke.

“And? What are you doing with this? I hope you do not plan to open another one?”

To build an annex to the bathhouse Spice and Wolf and expand their business…That was a dream he had long ago. Now, it was more important to keep their bathhouse modest yet unparalleled.

“No, what I want to ask you to do is from here to here.”

Lawrence slid his finger from the village of Nyohhira to the west.

It went deep into the woods, beyond a cluster of mountains, where even the smallest communities did not yet exist.

“I want you to find a road that connects these places.”

“A road?”

Holo repeated dubiously, and Lawrence responded.

“You’ve gone here many times in your wolf form, right?”

“True, but…No, ’tis the very reason why I know there is no road there.”

What Lawrence pointed to was a line that connected a certain land directly to the hot spring village of Nyohhira.

What lay there was a single building, which, at one time, was feared as a place that might have grown to become Nyohhira’s business rival.

“I know. We’re going to make one. But you know what places are easy to walk through and what places are difficult, right? And one more thing.”

Lawrence poked the tip of one of Holo’s wolf ears.

“There should be places that those in the forest definitely do not want people to enter.”

When he said that, Holo furrowed her brow and pursed her lips.

Her reddish eyes glared at him most likely because he had brought her such troublesome work.

“What troublesome work you have brought me.”

It was exactly what he thought she would say, and Lawrence gave her a tired smile and shrugged.

“’Tis that, is it not? A road to the inn Selim and her kin made? Is that all right? Do you not consider them rivals in trade?”

Selim was a young girl who was working in the bathhouse, and she was not human, either. Like Holo, she was the embodiment of a wolf, and along with her brother and friends, who were also wolves, she had come from the south to the north, looking for a safe place to live. After many twists and turns, Selim came to work at Lawrence’s bathhouse, but her brother, Aram, and the others were different. On the other side of the mountains from Nyohhira, they ended up running a post town in the name of a miracle of a saint while pretending to be monks.

The memory of the bathhouse masters in Nyohhira growing agitated over a rival after hearing the rumors of Aram and the others setting up their residence there was still fresh in Lawrence’s mind.

But that had never been Selim or her brother’s intention, nor did they have the capacity or springs to compete with Nyohhira in the little village they created.

Additionally, what was more important to them was Selim, one of their own, working under Lawrence, and most importantly of all, how great of a deal Holo was to them.

Regardless, either was enough for Aram to suggest the following:

“Would it be possible for the bathhouses in Nyohhira to receive the pilgrims that come to our village?”

Lawrence accepted the favor and reported it to the assembly for bathhouse masters in Nyohhira.

Though they were conservative about everything, they were not blind to trade.

They understood that they would not be fighting over guests, and it was rather not a terrible idea if guests traveling on a pilgrimage also came to Nyohhira. Also, guests who came to Nyohhira would have something new to enjoy if they connected with Aram’s village. While the masters often boasted about how they could soothe the boredom of their long-term guests, their ideas were not very diverse. And so, with a new pilgrimage site, the guests could go out on a leisurely trip for a few days, which would make the bathhouse masters’ work easier.

The assembly unanimously agreed to it, but there was a problem.

“A road, then?”

“It’d be nice if there were animal trails, but I think we’d cause problems for the forest residents if we just started using them.”

Holo, arms crossed, flitted her wolf ears every which way as a growl rumbled deep in her throat.

The forest had its own rules, so it would only bring trouble if they naively assumed things would end without incident.

That was even more so the case since it was not Holo’s style to return to her giant wolf form and force them to listen to her.

“It’s too far away for human legs to travel in a day, so we’ll need a hut for resting. It wouldn’t be good for either party if there was a bear cave or deer path nearby, right? I thought that you might know how to handle that stuff.”

“Hnnnng…”

Holo moaned, took a deep breath, then kicked her foot childishly.

“Why not have Selim do it? Those in the forest shall understand if she says she works in my name.”

Selim was also the embodiment of a wolf, so it was not impossible for her to do this job.

But she was an absolutely crucial employee in the management of the bathhouse.

From dawn until dusk, she single-handedly took care of all the odd jobs around the house, and at night, she put on her pair of spectacles made from polished shards of glass and did their writing work by candlelight.

Were Lawrence to express his most honest feelings, he would say that Holo—who in this comfortable season stayed the whole day napping in her bed, enticed by the cool breeze—was only half as useful as Selim.

Of course, he was aware that mentioning that would bring the whole household into danger, so he worked his wisdom as the ex-merchant he once was.

“There’s a reason why I can only ask you.”

“…Hmm?”

Holo gazed at him doubtfully, daring him to talk her into it.

Lawrence nearly whispered his response to Holo in an especially admirable fashion.

“Most of the guests who come to Nyohhira to bathe are elderly, right? So them going to Aram’s village means they’ll have to walk.”

“…Do you mean to imply that I, too, am elderly?”

Holo was hundreds of years old.

He caught a glimpse of a fang beneath her lips, but Lawrence, of course, stayed calm and continued.

“No. The reason I can’t let Miss Selim do it is because of that form of yours.”

“…Hmm?”

Lawrence placed his hand on Holo’s cheek, rubbed the corner of her eye with the pad of his thumb, then patted her on the head.

If she behaved, Holo’s childlike nature was almost palatable.

“Opening up a new road is tough work, and just deciding where it goes first is enough to start arguments. If we leave it to the slow-moving assembly, we’d never know when it might be finished. But if you could walk it in your body, then most of the guests that come to Nyohhira could. That’s why you can explain why we’d have to put the road where it is, right?”

Holo looked at the map and then back up at him with wide, pitiful eyes.

Lawrence wrung out all the power he could muster into his next sentence.

“You are much cuter than Miss Selim. You can convince the villagers way better.”

“…”

Holo’s eyes silently bored into Lawrence. They held not a single glimmer, but she suddenly shut them and turned away.

“Hmph.”

Holo huffed, her lips slightly pursed, her ears and tail flitting happily.

“The only thing you are a master of are your words. Then I shall succumb to your sweet talk.”

Lawrence bowed his head graciously to Holo, who put on a grumpy act.

“It’s a big help.”

Holo side-eyed Lawrence and sniffed once again, then closed her eyes, turned her shoulder to him, and bumped him with it.

Lawrence made a fatigued smile and embraced the needy wolf.

“So? Shall I just draw a line where I think might be a good road?”

“No, the village hunters, woodcutters, and Aram will be going with—join the survey with them.”

Holo, whose eyes were narrowed in the comfort of his arms, suddenly looked cross.

“What, there will be others? I do not wish to be seen by others. You feel the same, no?”

Holo was not human and did not age. She had tried to conceal herself as much as possible for the past ten-some years since coming to the village to hide that fact, but there was another reason.

Holo was rather shy.

“Please. They’ve finally acknowledged me as a member of the village. If you, my wife, can pull this off well, then we can finally be one of them.”

Holo, a wolf who lived in a pack, was even more sensitive to this kind of talk.

And since she had once experienced controlling a village’s wheat harvest, alone and thankless, she knew well the pain of living with the feeling of being alienated.

Her expression was still honestly upset, but in the end, she sighed, drooping her shoulders.

“Hmph…What a troublesome household I have married into.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Lawrence embraced Holo one more time, and her tail rustled back and forth.

“Well, I suppose ’twould not be terrible to go for a walk with you sometimes.”

Lawrence felt guilty at how she smiled and said that to him.

She of course realized this and stared at him in surprise.

“H…mm?”

“Sorry…I have to stay in the bathhouse.”

Holo’s eyes widened slightly and her mouth closed shut. Her wolf ears trembled sadly and drooped.

He was not sure what to say to her, as she was so happy at the prospect of walking around the mountains together…But then again, he noticed how puffed up her tail was, and he sighed.

“Hey, can you cut the act, at least?”

The hint of sadness vanished from Holo’s expression like a bubble suddenly bursting.

In its stead, her eyes gazed at him ever so coolly.

“Hmph. And what is it you will be up to whilst I am driven away into the mountains?”

“At the very least, it won’t be napping on the bed as I take a sip of ale.”

Holo knew very well that was a dig at her, and she glared up at him with all her might.

“Or do you want to do my work? It has to get done fairly quickly, so I wouldn’t mind if you did it well.”

“Rgh…Y-your work?”

Work in the bathhouse was divided between what needed to be done every day in order to maintain the house and seasonal work. The latter especially involved lots of troublesome chores, such as gathering and processing the harvest in order to preserve it. Holo looked as though she was trying to remember what sort of work it was, so Lawrence reminded her.

“Drying the sulfur powder in the sun for the guests’ gifts.”

“Oh.”

There was yellowish sulfur powder dissolved in the water that came up in the springs. It was apparently different from regular sulfur and was said to be effective against joint pain and swelling and cuts. Guests who believed the folklore liked to dissolve it in hot water and drink the concoction. Lawrence tried it once in the past and it purged his bowels so he could not outright recommend it, but it was a merchant’s duty to meet his customer’s demands.

However, the sulfur accumulated at the source of the spring had to be placed in an unglazed pot once to extract the water and then dried out in the sun. Most of the guests bought the stuff in bulk, so preparing for that was also quite a bother. Having said that, burning a big fire and drying the powder that way would be a loss of profits for them, so they did it all in the summer when the weather was mostly sunny. And preparations for that, too, were difficult to deal with.

The damp sulfur powder after being separated from the water was heavy, and it was arduous work scraping the hardened mass out of the pot. Once it was all on a scrap of linen, they had to use a stick to break it into pieces and spread it out, then when it was dry, they had to gather it all up and repeat the process over and over.

There was no doubt that Holo would whine after the third run-through.

Holo weighed her gains and losses in her mind’s eye as Lawrence stared at her, then suddenly broke into a smile and spoke.

“…Well, I suppose I am a member of the bathhouse. I must work hard to become a friend of the village.”

It seemed that she had come to the conclusion that she would rather walk around the forest.

Lawrence glared coldly, and Holo glared right back, challenging him to respond.

He shrugged and sighed.

“I’ll tell Miss Hanna to prepare something good for you, so I’m counting on you.”

She then pinched the back of his hand.

“You fool. You believe I can always be won over with food?”

“So you don’t want any?”

“I said no such thing.”

Holo exhaled through her nose, and Lawrence could do nothing but smile bitterly.

There had been many times in the past that Lawrence strapped luggage to wolf-Holo’s back, but doing so to her human form was unusual. He placed a knapsack filled with writing utensils and lunch on her then tied the strings tightly so that it would not bother her on the mountain roads.

Then, since she would be going along with other villagers, they would have to hide her ears and tail. Her ears could be hidden by a hood, but her tail was the main issue.

As the saying goes, the best place to hide a tree was in the forest, so they chose to use a fluffy fur sash. Though it was summer, it was still rather chilly in the spots of the forest the sun did not reach, so it was perfect.

All that was left for him to do was trust in Holo’s actions and her eloquence if she aroused any suspicion.

“I’m counting on you.”

“Hmm.”

Holo, all covered in clothes for the outside, did not seem upset but actually rather excited.

When she was going to leave, she stood on her toes and presented her face to him, so with a sigh, Lawrence gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Eh-heh. Be a good boy, now.”

Lawrence smirked—Who was the lonely, clingy one?—and Holo flashed her fangs gleefully as she headed off down the hill from the bathhouse. Before long, she met up with the village hunters, and Aram, dressed as a monk, bowed his head deeply and they were off. In the end, Holo gave him a big wave, and they vanished from view.

Unlike when they sent Myuri on her first errand, an absent, oddly sentimental smile appeared on Lawrence’s face.

“Excuse me, Sir Lawrence?”

There was a voice.

It was the girl who worked in the bathhouse, Selim, who had stood slightly behind him also to see Holo off.

“Perhaps I should have gone instead…”

Selim, whose shoulder-length hair was of a faded color and had a truly divine white coat when she returned to her wolf form, looked apologetic, but that meant she had grown used to her position.

Since Holo had often teased him for fancying the most pitiful types of girls, Lawrence had to be careful of how he treated Selim.

“No, she has done almost no work as of late. Without you, Miss Selim, the bathhouse would stop working. You’ve seen her napping before, haven’t you?”

Selim drew up her shoulders, as though shrinking, perhaps because she recalled the imagery.

She almost nodded honestly, but she quickly shook her head.

“N-no, I enjoy working, and Lady Holo will gladly lend me a hand when it counts.”

“That’s what I mean. She’s thinks it’s fine as long as the boat doesn’t sink. She lacks the spirit to row faster.”

It was almost as though she was saying that Lawrence, who needed it, was the strange one.

Selim gave Lawrence a troubled smile as he groaned, then spoke slowly.

“Or maybe it is the secret to living a long life.”

Selim was a good person, as she smiled, trying to save both of their faces.

“That might be right. The scales will fall over if you put too much lead on one side.”

“Indeed.”

She beamed, and he smiled in return. Had Holo been there she would have glared, but Lawrence wished she would learn a little from the honest Selim, who never used her smile as a weapon.

“Oh, Sir Lawrence, I have a report to make.”

As they walked back to the bathhouse after watching Holo off, Selim spoke up.

“I was consolidating all our expenditure calculations last night.”

“Any discrepancies? No, don’t tell me, a deficit?”

After getting glasses, Selim’s skills in reading and writing improved greatly, and before they knew it, he could give her the same work that he would have trusted to Col.

Selim was perfectly suited for accounting work in particular, since she did not work frantically but carefully and steadily, one after another.

“No, it’s the coins.”

The moment she said that, Lawrence knew exactly what it was.

“Oh…the change…”

He spoke with a bit of a sigh, and Selim recoiled apologetically.

“I tried to make due with every kind of silver possible when it came to paying for our order, but we didn’t have enough change…”

“It’s not your fault, Miss Selim.”

Lawrence spoke to calm her down and scratched his head.

“That came up at the assembly, too. Trade is booming everywhere this year, and there’s a shortage of coin.”

“So…no allowance for a while, then?”

Selim shrugged and gazed up at him with rounded eyes, as though trying to make him worry about the coins for payment now.

“If we deal with larger purchases with money orders, then…What’s left are small expenses and change for the customers, right?”

The guests’ requests for change were especially important. One of their pleasures during their long stays were parties starring the dancing girls and musicians. The bored, lewd old men would stick thin copper coins onto the attractive dancers’ sweaty bodies as an offering and lived for the smile they would get in return.

There were also those in Nyohhira who walked around selling their homemade alcohol and sweets, so it was important to have small change on hand to pay for a snack, and those who brought attendants with them needed to provide some pocket money as well.

No small change meant a great inconvenience for many people.

“I will try and think of an idea, so if you could please manage something in the meanwhile.”

“Sure thing.”

Selim was a meek girl so she did not look at all upset with the situation, but she would have to bear the brunt of the guests’ criticism when it came to change. Lawrence felt a bit bad about it.

He watched her as she briefly bowed her head and returned to work, then he sighed.

“An idea…An idea, huh?”

Lawrence put his hands on his hips and looked to the sky.

His inn was deeper into the mountains from Nyohhira, which already stood quite far in. The closest proper town was several days’ travel away, either by river or by road. This coin problem was giving the money changers in even the biggest cities trouble, so it was not something that a bathhouse master so far out in the wilderness could do anything about.

He could hear the melodies of an instrument and the guests’ lively clamor from the bath on the other side of the building.

It was Lawrence the bathhouse master’s job to keep this laughter and activity alive.

This was the home he and Holo had dreamed of, so giving up was not an option.

“But dreaming in this world is a pain on its own, isn’t it?”

Lawrence smirked and grumbled to himself, then returned to work.

The village assembly met once a month during the busy seasons of summer and winter and twice during the down seasons. Additionally, they could also meet at their own discretion if a problem arose.

While these meetings often became drinking parties very quickly for the bathhouse masters, they had been talking rather seriously these past several times they gathered.

“Okay, well, about the road to Saint Selim’s Village, things are going smoothly.”

Since his wife, Holo, was a part of it, Lawrence reported on the surveying of the road. None of the other masters expressed any particular objections to his idea of building a road where a girl like Holo could easily walk.

And in the end, it seemed they had settled on the name of Saint Selim’s Village for Aram’s post town. There was nothing they could do about it since, when they acted out the miracle of a saint whose body became silver as she slept in the ground, Selim ended up using her own name before the archbishop.

But no one would think that she and the Selim who worked at Lawrence’s bathhouse were one and the same.

“I hope you don’t mind if we leave the allotment of expenses for building the road, the sale of cleared lumber, and construction costs of the huts for later.”

“No objection,” came the chorus from the other bathhouse masters. Though it was not as bad as winter, to talk about money during the summer when there were many people coming and going would only lead to confusion. During the busy season, none of the bathhouses were entirely certain how much money they were making.

“And now, next on the agenda…”

The chair hesitated.

“…the grave shortage of change that has befallen us.”

“What did the money changers in Svernel say?”

Someone cried out in excitement.

Svernel was a town considered to be the key of trade in these northlands, one that Nyohhira relied on for the delivery of their goods. Whenever they had a surplus or deficit of coins, they would contact Svernel’s money changers first.

“They might ask us to give them coins instead of giving any to us.”

“Even though we gave them so much in the spring?”

Once the busy winter season was finished in the village of Nyohhira, it was customary for them to bring the large amounts of coin paid to the bathhouses to the money changers in Svernel. Since all the work left undone over the winter began at once in the spring, the value of coin went up, which gave them a nice profit from bringing the coins to town.

“What about the Debau Company?”

That question was directed to Lawrence. The Debau Company, which held great influence over the economy of the entire northlands and at the same time minted the most reliable coin, was deeply connected to him since his days as a traveling merchant.

“I sent them a letter, but they said it would frankly be difficult to mint new coins since all the mines are plagued with snowmelt during the summer.”

Even with the tools to create money, they could not make any new coins without the source material.

Though the Debau Company had their own mines, it was likely their production was not enough.

“Well, I’m sure every place with the right tools is going frantic to secure their source metal. Hammering out new coin now would make them rich.”

“Oohh, I haven’t seen a shiny silver coin in a long time!”

“The merchants who come and go have all been issuing money orders lately and complaining that it doesn’t make them want to do any trade.”

Money orders were a kind of document with a price written on it. While on one hand, it was convenient that one did not have to carry every single heavy coin on oneself, it was still nothing more than a piece of paper, no matter how large the amount was. Lawrence understood how it felt as if there was no inherent value in it.

“If only we could give the dancing girls money orders for offerings!”

Everyone laughed at the joke.

“Even if we tell them that the piece of paper is a stand-in for coins, the girls probably won’t smile…”

No matter the condition the coins were in, everyone acknowledged their value because of how they were shaped.

“I guess then all we can do is somehow make the dancers, musicians, merchants, and peddlers spend the coin they’ve earned and collect it for ourselves.”

They were sharp as well, so they knew the most profitable places to take the money they gathered.

Unfortunately, Nyohhira was no such candidate, so their coins would only end up leaving the town.

“Or maybe we should sing and dance for them.”

That joke produced even more laughter.

But the way they laughed was almost out of desperation, showing how defeated they were in the face of a coin shortage.

“I guess we have no choice but to bear through this.”

The chair spoke tiredly, and all the bathhouse owners sighed.

It was when a heavy silence lay over them.

“While we might not be able to sing or dance…”

One master spoke. It was the one from the bathhouse that served the most delicious food in Nyohhira.

“We had the perfect event to scrape together some change, didn’t we? Isn’t that enough?”

Did we? came the murmured voices in the hall.

As Lawrence sat puzzled, that bathhouse master looked straight at him.

“It’s the one you spoke about before, Mr. Lawrence.”

“Huh?”

Everyone’s gazes suddenly gathered on him.

“That fake funeral of yours.”

The blood rushed to Lawrence’s head not because he was embarrassed.

It was because he was happy.

“Ah, putting the living in coffins…you mean?”

“Oh yeah, I remember that idea. That was an interesting one. What happened to it?”

People had trouble saying what was important to even their loved ones if they were not on their deathbed. So Lawrence had the idea of an event where they held funerals for the living, in order to tell others the embarrassing things they would not typically say.

Since the guests gathered in Nyohhira during the summer and winter, Lawrence had the idea of calling in guests during their inactive seasons of spring and autumn.

They tried it once and it cost no money and was generally received well, but the problem was the conservative and slow-moving bathhouse masters. Preparations and that sort of thing were troublesome for them and none of them wanted to take responsibility, so it had been left at that.

Lawrence wondered for a while if he could take on all the responsibility himself, but he was the newest member of the village, so it was possible he would become a nuisance if he stood out too much.

And he had forgotten about it before he realized it, and he now felt oddly revived.

“We can sell candles as votives for funerals, and if we pass around an offering box, the dancers and musicians and traveling merchants will have to pay a bit of change. It’s crucial that we say just a little bit is fine since it’s for fun. Of course, it’s a great bonus if someone offers a silver coin.”

Everyone nodded in understanding.

Then the chair clapped.

“That certainly kills two birds with one stone. It is clear that if it is this bad during the summer, then the coin situation will grow worse during the winter. And so, while we cannot do it now, I don’t think it a bad idea to start discussing holding it in the autumn. How about that?”

Though the assembly typically could never reach an agreement on the smallest details, in a small town such as this, some matters were settled in an instant. “Agreed.” Voices accompanied raised hands, and Lawrence witnessed the moment his idea was accepted by the village.

“Well, we’ll leave it at that. But for now, there’s nothing for us to decide, so let’s concentrate on Saint Selim’s Village first.”

There was a mountain of things to do.

As the hall grew noisier, Lawrence directed his gaze toward the bathhouse owner who offered his idea.

The man noticed him immediately, and as though he understood why, he just shrugged.

He was a master who never failed to produce imaginative meals for his guests, so it seemed that he had just suggested it because it seemed useful, regardless of Lawrence.

But either way, Lawrence was pleased. This meant he had taken another step into the village circle.

“So let’s leave this for today and feast. I’m curious to see how the first brew of cider turned out this year.”

The other bathhouse owners applauded in agreement, and everyone quickly began preparations.

While it was not as busy as winter, many of the assembly members greatly looked forward to the opportunity to drink while the sun was still high in the sky during the frantic summer.

“We gathered a lot of mushrooms this summer. Hey, how’s the charcoal looking?!”

Everyone started bringing in food and casks of alcohol.

Lawrence was usually careful during the normal parties, but today it looked like he could enjoy the drink.

Holo might get angry if he came home red-faced, but he thought that maybe, just today, she would allow it.

While the coin problem hung over them like a dark cloud, the survey for the road leading to Aram’s village was going smoothly.

“And then, whenever I sat down, they cut fresh grass and lay it down for me, and whenever we crossed a slight ledge, the men carried me, and occasionally they created a simple palanquin of sticks and let me sit on it.”

Holo lay on her stomach, her tail waving about, and trilled as Lawrence massaged her feet.

“I truly felt like a princess. Perhaps such a thing once in a while would not be so bad.”

And who is it that’s gallantly working hard right now to treat you like a princess? Lawrence was about to ask, but he kept it to himself. Since it seemed as though she got along with Aram and the hunters whom she had accompanied on the road survey, there was little reason to make her feel worse while she was enjoying herself.

“I thought that Aram boy was a rude child at first, too, but he is quite all right. His nose is rather sharp in the forest. The hunters are quite skilled for humans as well. They know well the rules of the forest. There would have been no problem without me.”

It was extremely unusual for Holo to compliment others. Or perhaps the reason for such an assessment was the three rabbits hanging from her waist and the several delicious-looking brown mushrooms as big as her face strapped to her back today when she came home from the survey.

“Then I guess we can build a road, huh?”

“Mm…Oohh, harder…”

Holo was without a doubt tired from all the walking, so when Lawrence pressed firmly on the back of her feet, the hairs on her tail stood on edge and she groaned.

“Hooh…And? How was it for you?”

Holo stayed in place as she spoke, lying on her stomach and hugging a pillow.

“How was what for me?”

“Was there not an assembly today?”

She typically never asked how the assembly went. Those were usually times when Lawrence had too much to drink. As he wondered if the smell really did linger that much, Holo’s tail bent deftly and smacked his hand.

“You fool. I can tell when you are in high spirits.”

It was almost as though she was saying that she could see through it all, despite having her eyes closed.

But since she really did see through him, Lawrence began to gently massage her calves as though apologizing for underestimating her.

“Yeah, something great happened. You remember when we planned that fake funeral and tried it out, right? It might actually happen.”

“Oh ho.”

And it might solve their problem with the coins.

The others around him would acknowledge him if he managed to solve one of the village’s big problems.

“And because of your help, I might finally become a member of the village.”

“Mm. That’s…that’s…gre…at…”

As Lawrence happily poured his gratitude into Holo’s leg massage, her tail eventually flopped over to the right and was still.

He took a look and saw she was asleep, and quiet snores came from her half-opened mouth.

The night was still young, and it was typically around the time when she would be sipping on her ale, poking her nose into Lawrence’s business as he took care of documents. She had her fill of dinner today, but she had not drunk much. Perhaps walking around the mountain in her human form was much more relaxing than she thought it would be.

Lawrence gently stroked Holo’s head and pulled the covers up over her. He thought about doing some writing work afterward, but when he watched her as she breathed soundly and comfortably, he no longer felt like it.

He blew out the candle and quietly slipped under the covers so as not to wake Holo, but then he realized she was hogging the pillow.

Come on, Lawrence thought as he closed his eyes, and he, too, fell asleep in an instant.

While there were so many things going on, such as the shortage of coins and the road survey, time passed as they just concentrated on the work before them. Holo leaving every morning with a rucksack became a familiar sight, and then at night they would tell each other what happened during the day as they fell asleep.

As for the funeral, they were in the middle of a busy season, so for the moment it was on hold until the beginning of autumn, but the coin problem grew worse day by day. Talk about calling in a stonemason to make stone coins and, since they may as well try, going down the mountain to gather change from various towns started to come up in regular conversation among the bathhouse owners.

While the former might not have been possible, the latter gave them a little hope.

While not as much as winter, this was still a busy season, so the problem was who from the village could go down and gather coins, but Lawrence had a slight hunch as to whom this sort of job might be given.

He anxiously thought about what he could do, since if the other villagers asked him to go, then he would have to close the bathhouse as he watched Holo off that morning as he always did.

She seemed to be rather enjoying walking around the mountain, since today she also brought with her a sack, possibly for gathering mushrooms or nuts or the sort. He imagined her greedily stuffing it full and coming home with shaky steps under the weight. As he wondered if he should prepare some good ale for her, he dried out the sulfur powder from the springs in an empty area before the bathhouse.

Then, as lunch time grew nearer, he looked up.

Holo had appeared from behind a tree, and for a few seconds, he doubted what he saw.

“…Huh? Wh-what’s wrong?”

It would have been cute if she came home during lunch to see him because she was lonely, but they had known each other for a long time. He noticed how glum she looked.

Holo wordlessly emerged from the forest, stood before Lawrence, and sighed.

“It has become complicated.”

Holo grumbled, and her gaze suddenly snapped to something behind him. Lawrence turned around, and there was Selim, carrying a basket to collect the drying sulfur powder.

“Aram and the others are still keeping watch in the mountain. Only I have returned to call on someone.”

Selim’s eyes widened when she heard her brother’s name.

Lawrence’s brow furrowed when he heard her say “keeping watch.”

“Is there something dangerous?”

The village of Nyohhira lay on the utmost frontier. And those who always needed to keep away from the eyes of humans ran and hid in places like this.

“’Tis not impossible, they said.”

“…Hmm?”

He was even more puzzled at Holo’s noncommittal response, and she let out a long, deep sigh.

“I wish little Col were here…”

The wrinkles between Lawrence’s brow deepened when he heard the unexpected name.

“Col?”

Col, who they had met over ten years ago when Lawrence was traveling together as a merchant with Holo, had supported the bathhouse business for a long time.

Lawrence could only think of one thing if they needed Col’s help. He lowered his voice and spoke.

“Don’t tell me…the remains of one of Myuri’s awful tricks?”

Their only daughter, Myuri, was an unapologetic tomboy and loved pranks. He could not count all the dangerous pranks she had pulled that would cause the villagers to faint if they found out.

Myuri looked up to Col as an older brother and clung to him, so when she caused problems, Col was typically the one to resolve them. That was what Lawrence was reminded of, but when he saw Holo’s wry smile, he realized that he was wrong.

“Because little Col and Myuri go so well together?”

Lawrence flinched at Holo’s teasing, and it seemed that Holo finally overcame the nervousness stuck in her throat.

“’Tis not it. Little Col’s, you know. That difficult knowledge of his.”

“Col’s…the Church?”

Holo had said it was complicated.

Lawrence placed both hands on his wife’s small shoulders and asked her as the master of the bathhouse.

“What happened?”

What Holo mentioned was certainly complicated.

He was not physically strong, nor did he have the money to solve every problem.

What Lawrence did have was the knowledge he cultivated as a merchant and quite a few connections.

“I really apologize for how sudden this is.”

“Oh no, I always appreciate what you do, Sir Lawrence.”

Walking along the mountain road, his beard and hair still damp as they swayed in the wind, was an abbot of stocky build. Luckily, it was before he had anything to drink, so they told him what the situation was as he lounged in the baths and had him accompany them.

“And I hate to remind you again, but…”

Lawrence spoke as they walked the path, but the abbot raised his hand, as though telling him he did not need to finish.

“I am aware. This is Nyohhira, where God’s eyes cannot see beyond the steam of the baths. Rather, I am the one who must give you my continual thanks.”

Holo glowered at the two men for their blatant exchange.

This white-bearded abbot was the head of a large monastery called the Harivel Monastery and had come at the very end of spring to ask an odd favor from Lawrence.

To put it simply, the winds of the Church’s revolution blew throughout the towns, and the churches and monasteries that had amassed assets were being used as scapegoats. And so he had asked for Lawrence’s help to distribute the monastery’s assets to those who needed it the most.

Of course, “distribute to those who needed it the most” meant “find someone who will buy it for the highest price.”

With his knowledge as a former traveling merchant, the wide network he had cultivated, and his recollection of the rules of the different kinds of merchants, Lawrence decided to help out this man to the best of his ability.

And he had to ask for a favor in return.

It was the thing that Holo and the others found by chance as they went to survey the road.

They asked the abbot to inspect it.

“What you found in the mountains was a deceased traveler wearing a suspicious crest, was it?”

The abbot inquired as he walked at a brisk pace along the mountain path.

Lawrence responded.

“It looked like the body has been there a while. They perished in a very small cave.”

Though Lawrence did not give all the details, he appeared to get the gist of the situation.

“May God watch over them,” the abbot murmured. “In reality, there are many heretics who run to the northlands. Because inquisitors also sneak into the north after them, they would be very guarded in public. Myself and my colleagues all believe that there would be no more reason to live if Nyohhira became mixed up in the inquisition and we no longer could bathe in these waters.”

“Thank you.”

Since it took several days to travel to the nearest town and the nearby communities would know right away if someone got lost, then there was absolutely no doubt that the person found in the cave had a reason for coming into the mountains.

Though it was immediately clear that it was not a regular traveler by the strange crest in his luggage, they did not know who he might be. Holo and the others could not reach a conclusion, nor could they dig a hole and bury him and pretend they had not seen him. After worrying about it, they apparently decided to let Holo go back to the village and find someone they could trust.

They took a quick break along the way, and after a bit more walking, Aram and a hunter shouldering a bow came to greet them. Once they arrived, another woodcutter had started a fire beside the thicket.

Lawrence was surprised to see how close it was to the village. The only way into the cave in question was through a crack in the fern-covered rock, and it was hard to spot even after someone pointed it out to him.

“Take care not to slip.”

Following the hunter’s guidance, Lawrence and the others slid through the crack and down into the cave.

“Mm-hmm…Ha-ha, it’s like a venture down into hell.”

The abbot looked unsteady with his large body, but he managed to get down safely.

It looked like a dark hole from the outside but was surprisingly bright with the light filtering in.

“It’s the perfect hiding spot.”

The inside of the cave was about as big as a shed, and the temperature was cool even in this season. Once they caught a whiff of the particular smell of wet stone, they spotted a small stream of fresh water in the corner.

It was not very deep, and they saw the body in question immediately.

Like the holy man he was, the abbot gripped the crest of the Church that hung from his neck and offered a prayer.

“May God grant peace to this wandering soul.”

The body was not covered in bugs, and perhaps it had simply lost its water content. From the way it leaned up against the wall, legs splayed, Lawrence thought it practically looked like an old man from a charcoal-burning hut had a drink of ale and fell asleep on the spot.

It was not unusual to find corpses on the road back when Lawrence was traveling around, but he almost never saw one in such a pristine location. There was water, and fruits hung from the ceiling, so perhaps the life drained from this person slowly as he ate and drank and passed in his sleep.

Lawrence was not sure if he should take that as him prolonging his own pain, or if he should say that he was holding out hope until the bitter end.

It was just a feeling, but looking at the body, he thought it might be the latter.

“He looks as though he was just awake only moments ago.”

What the abbot said was not an exaggeration. The body had shown no indication of having been eaten by bugs or mice. His left arm hugged the bag that sat on his stomach, and his right hand held something that looked like a paper. From far away, he looked like an old man who fell asleep while reading it.

“It seems…he must have been caring for his tools or recalling his work.”

Lawrence realized it for the first time when the abbot mentioned it. Perhaps because of the long years and months they had been there and how they were covered not in rust but something of a black mosslike substance—it was hard to tell at first, but there was a line of tools by the body. They were all within reach from where the body sat, as if he was opening a store.

“A hammer, chisel, file…and this must be a saw. Is that a letter in his hand? No…”

“It’s…”

What the abbot reached for was not flimsy paper but parchment, which could keep for a thousand years in the right conditions. Since it had not been wet, it was in perfect shape.

But the moment they saw what was on it, both Lawrence and the abbot were at a loss for words.

Holo gripped Lawrence’s arm so hard it hurt, and he glanced at her.

Her face was tense and slightly pale.

She had not been glum when she appeared at the bathhouse earlier. She was nervous.

There were countless pictures of wolves on the parchment that the body held. There were some that looked normal and some with two heads. Some were baring their fangs, others were holding things in their mouth—various kinds of wolves filled the page.

“A wolf faith?”

The pagans that the Church censured always brought to mind people who worshipped toads, but Lawrence knew there were many kinds of faith in the world. There were some who worshipped large rocks or giant trees and even springs of water, and there were those who revered eagles, bears, and even fish. Wolves were just as popular as eagles.

He knew the reason why Aram and Holo, who had found the body, pretended they had not noticed it.

And the reason why Holo the worrywart was afraid it might lead to bigger problems.

They could tell that it would lead to an uproar if they suspected a heretic who worshipped wolves had snuck their way into the mountain.

“But this is not enough for us to say anything. What’s inside this bag is…”

After a quick prayer, the abbot carefully reached out to the bag the body held. He moved the arm away like a dried branch, and when he opened up the hemp rucksack, a large centipede slithered out from inside.

“Apologies. You were sleeping, weren’t you?”

The abbot did not seem at all bothered, and after watching the insect exit, he pulled out the bag’s contents. What came out was a heavy-looking metallic rod. It was not covered in any moss, nor had it lost its original shine. It appeared to be the right size to be a handle for a hand ax, and when the abbot held it aloft, the rod looked like the base for a fancy candlestick.

However, Lawrence recognized the object, and it wasn’t unknown to the abbot, either.

“Hmm.”

His sigh was more relieved than bewildered or puzzled.

“It does not seem this will become a heretical problem.”

The abbot then handed the item to Lawrence. It was heavy and cold.

Holo’s eyes widened as she stared hard at it.

It was the second time in his life he had held an object like this.

“Is this…a coin embosser?”

“The crest is of a wolf.”

The abbot reached out to the body and wiped the face of the pendant that hung from its neck.

Under the layers of dust appeared a wolf design.

“’Tis also all over his clothes.”

Holo murmured, and Lawrence finally noticed them as well.

What he thought were smudges all over the body’s clothes and even rucksack were images of wolves, faded over the years and months.

“There’s also…Ah, I knew it. It’s a seal.”

It was a metallic piece small enough to rest in his palm, and engraved on the finger rests were images of wolves.

“And this must be for branding cargo. A double-headed wolf is quite an extravagant design.”

Engraved on the square piece of metal, about as big as an adult’s hand, was a design of a single wolf with two heads. Holo shrunk away from the unfamiliar, eerie image.

But there was a precise reason for that reaction.

“A country destroyed in a war long ago…perhaps?”

“If not, then someone who tried to establish their house in a new land during the time when war ravaged the land and faded away in the midst of their dream. Seeing how he’s alone, he must have been a retainer who escaped the battles and headed north to fulfill his lord’s last wish…He must be from my grandfather’s time. A crest featuring a double-headed beast is too much for this day and age.”

Holo, full of doubt, turned to Lawrence, who spoke to her.

“This is a crest following the style of those originating from old empires.”

The abbot also found the copy of the scripture in the rucksack, and he prayed sincerely to the body’s faith.

“The wolf, especially, is evidence of power and a good harvest, so it is used often. I don’t quite recall when it was, but remember when I made a wolf coin into a necklace for you?”

Those kinds of coins also supposedly kept wolves away, so travelers liked them.

“Two heads facing left and right means its piercing gaze reaches all the way from east to west in its large territory. Nowadays, ever since territories started being divided into smaller pieces and the dream of a world to one’s own is no longer possible, it’s a design that only countries with a long history can use.”

Holo nodded meekly, but Lawrence noticed something else as he stared intently at the design.

Upon closer inspection, it was not symmetrical, and the depths of the faces carved on either side were different as well.

“This…The first design was squashed, and he carved a new one. Which means…”

The designs that filled the page of parchment were the remnants of this nameless artisan’s dreams, with no one to talk to in this cave.

When Lawrence told Holo this, she narrowed her eyes sadly and stared at the deceased artisan. Her hand gripped his arm even harder from the grief of losing someone with an affinity to wolves.

Meanwhile, the abbot finished his prayer and stood slowly.

“It must have been divine guidance that he perished here and we found him. Let us find out where this crest is from just to be sure, then give him a respectful burial.”

“Yes.”

This was the abbot who loved alcohol and meat and came to Lawrence with a favor to hastily avoid any criticism of amassing too much wealth in his monastery.

However, his next line appeared to be quite sincere.

“Be that as it may, it is cold here. Let us bury him in the Nyohhira cemetery and thaw his frozen soul.”

They crawled out of the cave, explained the gist of the situation to Aram and the others who had been anxiously waiting for a report, then called it a day.

In the end, through Abbot Harivel’s connections with guests in other bathhouses, they identified the dead man as someone from a small country that was destroyed a mere fifty years ago. An elderly landlord who had spent almost a month traveling far from the south knew the crest.

He looked terribly wistful and spoke of a time when war ravaged the world in a way that was impossible to imagine now.

Even after the fighting had died down, these sorts of war mementos were found in sheds and out in village fields all over the place. Among them were restored houses, whose faint rays of hope had come true, but many of their origins were simply lost in the flow of time.

After thoroughly washed and polished the branding iron they brought back from the cave, bringing it into the sunlight showed clearly that, just as Lawrence thought, the old design had not been entirely erased.

Many people long ago had grand dreams of ruling an entire empire.

Either way, since the traveler’s origin turned out to not be a source of trouble, Lawrence relayed the situation to the other bathhouse owners and suggested they bury the body in the village’s graveyard—but that was exactly what became a problem.

“What on earth are you talking about?! Our monastery is in the Schten region, from which the traveler fled, and boasts a history of two hundred and seventy years—”

“If we are talking about history, then our church is descendant of Saint Imodes and is actually six hundred and twenty—”

“Please hold on for a second. The scripture the traveler had was an edition with Professor Pearson’s annotations, and it is clear he belonged to the Ridol school! So it would be most appropriate if we, the Millay Monastery, offer relief to the traveler’s soul—” “What sophistry!” “How dare you!” “What did you say?!”

The storage room that they also used as a meeting place for assemblies fell into utter mayhem as they debated who would preside over the traveler’s funeral. High-ranking clergymen from all over the world gathered in the village of Nyohhira, after all. A hundred ship captains would always end up arguing if there was only one boat. It was as though cows and goats and sheep had all been stuffed together in one room, with white beards and black beards, bald heads glinting from greasy sweat in anger, arms as skinny as dried twigs flailing about, and protruding stomachs knocking over tables.

Once the fighting bathhouse masters started grabbing the collars of one another’s clothes, fully armored knights even wearing metal helms pulled them off each other, tired of it all.

The important guests, sitting on crimson-cushioned chairs, watching the whole thing unfold with sharp gazes, were the lords who supported the clergymen. Since they were, at the very least, donating to the churches and monasteries in their own territory, they believed the authority of the clergymen they supported was a direct display of their own authority’s greatness. Not only that, but the man who had perished in the cave had lived in a time of war, with faith and loyalty in his heart, and died acting out a dream—a war hero.

The question of who would offer solace to this man’s soul was not one that could be compromised on in Nyohhira, where many of high status gathered.

In the corner of the meeting room, Lawrence gazed at the design and let slip a sigh.

He quickly closed his mouth so that he would not be reprimanded, but he heard a soft chuckle from beside him.

“It is truly foolish.”

The one who said that was the old landlord who had told them who the traveler really was. Though he was not one of Lawrence’s guests, he had rented out Spice and Wolf’s famous grotto bath a number of times, so he knew his face.

“He lived in a time of war. I think we should just copy what they did back then.”

“In a time of war?”

Lawrence had acquaintances who were mercenaries, but they preferred to avoid war since it got in the way of their trade. He did not know much about it.

“Yes. On the battlefield without any priests, you just bury the remains and sprinkle alcohol over them, or if they were a nondrinker, then bury them with their favorite food. Tedious prayer and who conducted the ceremony were of no importance.”

It seemed easy enough for the rules of the battlefield, where practicality was key.

He was a bald, skinny, and aging lord, but Lawrence could easily imagine him sprinkling ale over a buried companion with sword in hand.

“But the war is over, and those who can control words act as they please. Perhaps it’s proof of peace, but…”

The old lord sighed, too, then winked at his attendant who helped him to his feet.

“By the way, is that grotto bath of yours open?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, since everyone is taking part in this chaos.”

“Wonderful. I want to use it later.”

“Sure thing. I will see you soon.”

Lawrence dipped his head respectfully and watched the old lord walk off.

Then, knowing it would be a waste of time to stick around, he left.

Since not everyone could fit inside the meeting room, a dense crowd stood outside trying to peer through the open doors. Beyond them was a storyteller animatedly conveying what was going on inside to another crowd of guests enjoying the tale.

Lawrence sighed at the spectacle when someone tugged on his clothes, and he turned around.

There was Holo, a hood pulled low over her face, looking bored.

“Oh, perfect timing. I was just on my way back to the bathhouse.”

Holo nodded briefly and quickly began walking off. She was acting like a child dragged off to church in the middle of their playtime, but it was she who had wanted to see what was going on and followed him in the first place.

Though she typically walked beside him, at the moment she was a few steps ahead. Times like these usually meant she was grumpy, and if she was acting by the book, then it meant she was cranky from having been left alone.

However, she had also said she would wait outside, so the problem clearly lay elsewhere.

“Don’t worry about that.”

As they traveled up the sloping road, Lawrence spoke once the noise from the meeting room grew distant and they could hear the faint sounds of easy music coming from the bathhouses along the way.

“About what?”

Holo responded without turning back, and Lawrence smiled bitterly.

“That commotion isn’t your fault.”

Once he had asked the details of when they found the traveler’s body, apparently both Holo and Aram had used their wolf noses to sniff it out. They could have simply ignored the body, but they feared it might have been someone who had gotten lost so they went to check…And since it carried all sorts of wolf-related items, they were unable to just pretend they had not seen it.

And so, while it had not become a heretical problem, it did lead to a big scuffle among the guests.

The honest Aram was of course apologetic for causing trouble, and Holo, too, must have felt somewhat responsible since these past few days she seemed down and somewhat restless.

“I care not for the quarrels of those bearded ones.”

However, Holo spoke stubbornly. Lawrence wanted to ask her why she wanted to go watch them shouting at one another, but he had a feeling she would get angry with him if he did. Perhaps it was because of her pride as the self-styled wisewolf, ruler of the forests, but in any case, Holo was sensitive and prone to bouts of loneliness, so he could not let her alone.

While it could be said she was difficult, Lawrence thought about how she opened herself up to only him, and that truly made him happy.

Or perhaps it was his difficult merchant’s personality, which got him fired up at every troublesome customer’s order.

“But are you all right?”

Holo glanced back at him over her shoulder as she asked him.

“Me?”

Lawrence replied blankly, making Holo’s face twist into a scowl.

“That thing you had thought of—’twould not be possible at this rate, no?”

They were finally on the same page. Holo was talking about the fake funeral that Lawrence had come up with.

“Probably not…If we decided to go through with the fake funeral as a town event, the guests would surely start fighting over who would get to preside over it. Watching all that makes me think, Yeah, I don’t think we can do it.”

Since there were few visitors when they did a trial run, there had not been any problems. But once it became a village event, the priest who stood speaking before the coffin would become the very face of Nyohhira.

He could imagine the old men rushing forth, announcing their own qualifications.

But in that case, was this what Holo was the most worried about? Just as Lawrence had come up with the idea of an event, contributed to the village, and was excited about being recognized by his fellow villagers, though it was an accident, she had made it all for naught…

That did sound just like a mental trap she tended to fall into, but Lawrence did not think that was the case.

“But about that, this is good news, in a way.”

Holo gave him a frown, as though telling him to quit the flimsy consolations.

“It’s true. Because I hadn’t the foggiest idea that the clergy would be so vain and hardheaded. Imagine what would happen if we innocently announced our fake funeral without experiencing this. Even more people would be keeping their eyes on us.”

Holo stayed a few steps ahead of him as usual and responded, “And?”

“See, then we couldn’t just simply cancel our plans. If all the guests got into a huge, uncontrollable fight because of my ideas, then who would be taking responsibility? I would. I wouldn’t be a member of the village, then—I’d be on a bed of thorns. You saved me. Thank you.”

Lawrence beamed earnestly, and she slowed her pace, drawing closer to him.

“And the fake funeral was also meant for collecting coins, but now we know that was totally irrelevant.”

Lawrence spoke as if to himself. It was less of a consolation for Holo and more of a complaint.

“Funerals come with donations and votives, so we thought we could gently coax coins out of the guests, but it’s usually the priest leading the ceremony who takes it all. If we don’t have someone from the village acting as priest, then the guest priest who leads it will collect the money. Of course, the other clergy won’t stay quiet. That is a big reason why they were arguing so much at the meeting, even if that isn’t the only reason.”

Lawrence’s sigh was genuine.

“Honestly, my get-rich senses have dulled since I’ve stopped peddling.”

Holo was still facing away from him, but he could tell from the air about her that she was listening.

Lawrence then spoke, not to soothe Holo, but to soothe himself.

“Once again, I came up with a way to get rich quick and almost fell into an unavoidable trap. I managed to avoid that only because I gave offerings of good meat and alcohol often.”

When he finished his sentence, Holo turned around and whapped him on the arm.

“Do not make such a fool of me. I have not provided you any wisdom.”

“But it’s your job as a goddess to bring me happiness, isn’t it?”

He took Holo’s hand and kissed the back of it.

But his smile slowly vanished because her expression remained sullen.

“…Hey. This commotion isn’t your fault, and no one has ever told me that I’ve brought unnecessary outside trouble into the village. And this time, we escaped without rustling too many feathers.”

When they were traveling when he was a merchant, they were constantly blamed for the bad things that happened to occur in the villages they visited. Holo was especially sensitive to that sort of atmosphere for her own safety.

And now, there was not a whiff of disquiet in the air, and since the guests were all taking part in the commotion, the masters were actually rather happy for the empty bathhouses.

It was a short break in an otherwise busy season.

“I, too, know this.”

Lawrence wanted to ask her why she was so upset.

But he held his tongue when he saw her, still a few steps ahead, turn back to him, on the verge of tears.

“…Holo?”

Lawrence called her name, his apprehension piquing quicker than his surprise.

What was Holo worried about?

Was Holo disappointed that he did not know?

It was just after his heart began to beat faster in a panic in all his doubts.

She did not stop walking but instead turned on her heel like a rabbit and embraced Lawrence.

“Oof!”

He almost fell backward, but he managed to catch her in his arms.

Holo buried her face into Lawrence’s chest, and the arms wrapped around him held him firmly.

He was bewildered, not sure what it might be, and as he searched for something to say he could hear Holo’s muffled voice.

“You are here, right?”

“Huh?”

Holo held him even tighter and repeated herself.

“Is the one here the real you?”

“…”

Holo looked straight up at him, her expression seemed as if it would be swallowed up by a cloud of anxiety.

“You…”

Lawrence murmured, and after a brief expression of shock, Holo buried her face in his chest again.

At that moment, a familiar merchant who often came to the village passed by, clearly pretending not to look at them.

Though Lawrence predicted wild rumors would undoubtedly start flying around soon, what was important to him now was Holo.

“Hey, let’s go over there. People pass this way.”

There was still a bit of distance until the bathhouse, but there was a perfect stump in a thicket beside the road. He led Holo by the hand, and they both sat down on it. And as they gazed out onto the village, Lawrence recalled that they had done this when he was a traveling merchant.

The awkward make up after a fight, or when their travels were hindered for many days in the woods by the depressing, rainy days, or…

The arrogant princess clung to Lawrence from his side as she sniffled.

Lawrence wrapped his arm around his shoulders and thought.

“Is the one here the real you?” she had asked.

He lightly patted her on the back and sighed, tired.

The third reason Holo acted like this.

She had a bad dream.

“I get it now. You thought the corpse in that cave might be me, right?”

Holo’s body shivered. It seemed as though he was right.

Holo would live for centuries, and the years and decades could pass as she dozed. And so the span of a human life must be like a fleeting dream, and even Lawrence dwelled on this sometimes. He wondered if his blissful days were just a reverie and his real self was napping alone in the back of a wagon.

On top of that, the body they found in the cave was unmistakably that of a traveler. He gripped in his hands parchment filled with pictures of wolves.

It was entirely possible that Holo, who always overthought the strangest things, considered it some sort of sign.

If that were the case, then he could understand why she wore the expression she did when she came to call on him in the bathhouse.

“We never change.”

Lawrence spoke with a smile, and Holo looked up to glare at him with sharp eyes. Her cheeks were still damp with tears, and her lips twisted in an odd shape.

“The answer is simple. The biggest reason you got so scared is that embosser, isn’t it?”

Holo’s eyes widened, and Lawrence smiled wryly.

“Come on, trust me a little.”

Even if she called him a blockhead, being with Holo for so long let him generally understand her thoughts.

However, her expression suddenly turned sour and she whispered, “Fool.”

“It’s okay. We ran around the northlands while carrying an embosser with a sun on it, but it all turned out okay in the end. We definitely did not escape into a cave after a failure and end up dead in there.”

Tears welled up again in Holo’s eyes, and she looked down.

But the possibility had certainly been there. That was how dangerous that adventure had been.

It was entirely possible that had they failed in their quest of issuing the Debau Company silver, he would have ended up like that traveler.

Without any place to go, nowhere to get help, he would have lived in a cave with Holo and slowly passed away. Holo would surely have stayed by his dead body, long enough that she would forget why she was there. In the end, the boundary of the dreams she saw as she dozed would slowly disappear, and she would mistakenly believe the world of her dreams was reality.

It was all entirely possible.

“That never happened. We came out fine.”

It was thanks to luck and Holo.

He pressed his lips against her temple and inhaled her scent.

It was a nostalgic scent of dried wheat, undoubtedly her own.

“You went to go see the commotion at the meeting room to make sure the name of the dead traveler wasn’t Kraft Lawrence, didn’t you?”

Holo hesitated for a few moments, then with her head still down, she nodded.

“…”

That’s silly, Lawrence almost said, but his words faltered.

Holo was shivering slightly in his arms.

The time they would live was different, which meant the worlds they lived in differed more fundamentally than he could ever imagine.

Holo knew this and tried to pull back many times.

Since he was the one who held on to her hand and never let go, he had the responsibility to make her happy.

Lawrence reconsidered this and looked off into the distance. He wondered what he could do now. He could embrace her, kiss her, and drink warm mead before the fire with her at any time. He needed something that would convince himself that he could make Holo happy because it was him.

As he gazed out on the village from the thicket, he thought. If only he could enter her dreams and erase all her nightmares from corner to corner. Just as he thought about that, it dawned on him.

“Oh, I guess we could do that.”

Holo flinched in his arms.

Lawrence roughly mussed her hair.

“Hey, Holo?”

He spoke as though he was going to ask her on a stroll, so of course she looked up.

“I can’t guarantee this isn’t a dream, but…”

Holo’s brow drooped nervously when he said that, but he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and swept one hand under her knees, sweeping her up like a new bride.

Holo’s eyes were wide in surprise.

“If this is a dream, then let’s make it a good one.”

She either sniffed, or she held her breath. Holo moved her throat and spoke in a hoarse voice.

“What are you…?”

“It’s simple.”

He kissed the corner of her eye and spoke.

“Let’s bury the bad stuff.”

Though it was summer, the temperatures at night plummeted due to the moisture coming from the trees, and exhaling produced a white haze.

“You…truly are a fool…”

Holo was in her wolf form, looking unusually meek as she spoke.

Lawrence rustled the fur at the base of her neck and readjusted the spade on his shoulder.

“Recklessness like this isn’t too bad once in a while, no?”

“…”

It seemed she could make an annoyed half smile even as a wolf.

“Hmph. You fool.”

As she jabbed his head with her nose, Lawrence smiled when he saw how happily her tail was wagging.

“Well, take care of the house while we’re gone.”

Aram, who was currently staying in Lawrence’s bathhouse due to the commotion in town, and his little sister, Selim, could not help but notice when Holo turned into her wolf form. As the two of them peeked out from the bathhouse to see what she and Lawrence were up to, he called out to them. They both seemed to shrink back and nod in acknowledgment.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Mm.”

Holo and Lawrence were headed to the cave.

Holo was plagued by anxiety because that traveler, who gripped a piece of parchment filled with pictures of wolves and held an embosser engraved with a wolf, was in that cave.

So with their own hands, they would just fill the hole. Even if this was a dream, all they had to do was look away from whatever it was that was trying to wake her from something so pleasant.

The old Holo might have despised such a groundless argument. In searching for conviction, she might not have wanted to accept such simple methods. But the months and days had passed, and their relationship had changed.

Lawrence chased Holo’s tail like a child as she walked a step ahead of him and led the way. The woods at night never typically felt like the place for the living, but he was not frightened when he was with Holo.

He walked along in such high spirits that he was unable to stop himself when her tail grew closer, and his head became buried in fur.

“Bwuh, hey, Hol—”

His words, along with his head, were completely smothered by her tail.

“Someone is here.”

Holo’s whisper was like a growl in the back of her throat.

Lawrence kept silent, slipped out from the fur of her tail, and strained his eyes.

It was rather far away, but beyond the trees, he could see a small light.

“It seems…we were not the only foolish ones.”

“What do you mean?”

Lawrence asked, and Holo sneered, revealing a fang.

“Perhaps a clash of those who have decided to use force when the dispute did not come to a settlement.”

Lawrence had nothing else to say and only smiled, exasperated.

“What shall we do? Jump out and announce the arrival of an emissary of the forest?”

Holo lowered her head, rubbing the spot above her eyes against Lawrence’s body, fawning on him.

She was telling him to be as foolish as he wished.

Lawrence stroked her fuzzy face as he groaned in thought.

“That would be funny, but…if we did that, it might become another miracle site.”

“So no?”

“Those guys yelling over there would definitely say that since they saw the miracle with their own eyes, they deserve to manage it. Absolutely. There would be more problems.”

“Mmh…”

Holo waved her tail discontentedly.

“But I never thought there would be so many people who wanted to carry the body away in the middle of the night…Sheesh, it’ll take time before we can bury him.”

Holo’s large eyes blinked slowly, then narrowed.

“If he has a soul or whatnot, then why not ask it directly?”

“Sure, that would make things much faster,” Lawrence agreed with a laugh but suddenly stopped. “Directly…to his soul?”

“…What, are you saying your ears are better than mine?”

Holo mischievously tilted her head to try and cover Lawrence with her large ears, which were big enough to shelter a child from the rain. He felt as if he had been turned into a mouse and dodged her prank, his thoughts turning over in his mind.

“No…Do we not totally understand the traveler’s wishes?”

“Hmm?”

“In that case…Umm…”

Perhaps it was his age, but his brain was not working as well as it should. It stopped just as everything was about to come together.

Holo watched him intently, then after glancing at the cave, she turned back to face him.

“What, will you hammer out coin or something of the sort?”

That was what the traveler dreamed of. Minting coin was a symbol of a territorial lord’s authority.

“Sure, but why do you think we worried so much over the coin problem?”

Holo pulled back slightly and narrowed her eyes like a wolf watching her prey.

“…I am Holo the Wisewolf. Do not hold me cheap. If we were simply to produce our own coin, things would grow complicated in a question of territory, would it not?”

“Exactly. Not only that, but we have no source material.”

“Then melt down other coin.”

“Huh. You sure know a lot.”

“…”

Holo jabbed him with her nose.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Lawrence apologized, and Holo sniffed.

“What a fool. And there is yet another problem.”

“Hmm?”

“You were told this often, no?”

Lawrence looked up at Holo, looming over him. He spread his arms wide as if seeking an oracle and shrugged.

“No one may bring money into the next world. How would we tell that pitiful traveler that his dreams came true? Shall we copy the customs of the war, like that old bald one said? Shall we bury the coins—?”

It was at that moment when Lawrence clearly saw the light in the dark forest.

“That’s it!”

Then the second he found himself shouting, something giant pushed him down.

It was Holo’s palm, and Holo herself crouched down as she looked toward the light.

“You fool!”

“…Sorry…”

They remained stock-still for a few moments, but luckily, they did not seem to have been noticed.

“And? What is it you have thought of?”

Holo lay on her belly and looked at Lawrence with exasperated eyes.

Those were the eyes of a tired spouse who had dealt with her stupid partner the countless times they got into trouble whenever he thought of a way to make money.

And the half smile on her lips was excitement to see what sort of stupid idea he had in mind this time.

Lawrence told her his plan, and Holo wagged her tail happily.

What he came up with was, of course, bread drawn by himself, so he needed the appropriate skill to bring it to life. Lawrence finished laying the groundwork for this and that and wrapped up his preparations.

The next morning, he headed to the ever-chaotic meeting room.

“That is why, like I said before—”

“If you do not recognize this, then we—”

“If you keep waving those empty arguments around, your faith—”

As arguments flew about tirelessly, Lawrence and the others parted the crowd and continued farther into the room.

The spectators and the lords and their servants all looked at Lawrence and the others with odd gazes.

But no one tried to stop their march as the old lord stood at the front of their procession.

“What we really should be looking for now is salvation for the lamb’s soul—”

As a priest spoke, froth spewing from his mouth, the old lord raised his longsword up high, then slammed it down along with the sheath onto the long table. The red-faced men, like honking geese in a swamp, craned their necks and fell silent.

“Indeed, what we should be looking for is salvation for his soul.”

When the lord spoke, one priest, who looked as if he had swallowed a rock, boldly opened his mouth.

“…That is why that method…”

“That method?”

The priest who would call himself a servant from God clammed up when glared at by a veteran from an ancient battlefield.

The landlord was old enough that to him, even the white-bearded ones looked like his sons or grandsons.

“We know that.”

The elderly landlord announced, and silence fell over the crowded meeting room.

“That man lived in his dreams and died in them. Then what else is there besides the reality of his dreams?”

He then took out the coin embosser from his pocket.

“N-no, that’s bad!”

A middle-aged lord, sitting on a crimson-cushioned chair, cried in surprise.

“Hold your temper! That’s what would be bad!”

A different lord hurriedly stopped him. While they had not minded the clergy exchanging blows with one another, they went pale at the sight of the embosser.

Everyone understood that the problem grew even bigger once the old landlord had pulled out the embosser.

“Hmm? And what are you so afraid of? What do you think I would do with this?”

The battle-seasoned old lord smiled slyly like a fox. The flustered lords and priests seemed to then finally notice Lawrence and the others by his side.

“What, do you…? Wait, are those the bathhouse owners? Are you all trying to bring disaster to this village?”

“Nonsense.”

The one who answered was the assembly chair, who had agreed with Lawrence’s plan and lent a hand for the sake of the village’s peace. He owned and ran one of the older bathhouses.

“We wish nothing more from our esteemed guests than to enjoy their time in Nyohhira. For that, we wish to help the traveler in question.”

“And that is the problem. You want to make coins because of the recent coin situation, don’t you? It’s stupid to think you’re killing two birds with one stone. Don’t think you can so easily print money like the Debau Company.”

The answer was flustered, as though implying just thinking about it was a sin, but the old lord responded.

He waved the embosser about in his hand, as though swatting away a fly.

“Who said we would be making coins? We are earnest servants of God. And so by his teachings, we will be making true the dreams of the departed.”

“Wait, but…‘The dreams of the departed’? That’s…”

The old lord responded clearly to the faltering priest.

“Of course—using this embosser and branding iron, we will spread things engraved with his house’s seal. There is no doubt he would be happy if everyone used things made with these tools.”

The youngest generation of landlords were visibly angry when they heard the old lord’s response. They, too, had earned achievements as full-fledged lords, after all.

“And that is what we’re saying the problem is. What would you use a coin embosser for if not for coin? Are you planning to use it as a stick to knead bread?”

Several indignant voices rose up in agreement.

“Well, you’re not too far off.”

The erupting landlords’ spirits were dampened as the old lord grinned.

On the veteran’s signal, Lawrence and the others pulled back the coverings on the baskets they held.

“Wh-what’s—?”

The sweet smell of butter suddenly wafted through the meeting room.

“I do not know much about food, but according to Sir Lawrence here, who has traveled throughout the world, he said it is hard tack, a specialty of smaller villages. We created these with that in mind.”

Lawrence walked before the lords with basket in hand and passed out the contents one by one.

“This is…unleavened bread?”

“No, this is not just unleavened bread. Is it a cookie?”

“Hmm…It’s different from the cookies in the south…”

The rich lords of course were knowledgeable when it came to food. It was lightly baked bread dough made with plenty of eggs and butter.

And they realized immediately what the design on the bread meant.

“Oh! It’s a bread coin, made in the form of the embosser!

“No lord will complain about this, will they?”

“We do not have a bakers’ association in our village, after all.”

The chair added a few more words of his own.

“And this is also one of the few dreams of former merchant Sir Lawrence, and I’m sure everyone has thought of it once.”

After the mischievous addendum, Lawrence continued along the same line of thought.

“I always think about eating my fill of coins.”

Those who were here had distinguished and significant amounts of wealth. Dark, troubled grins slipped from their lips, though not from anger.

Then the old lord spoke.

“I once walked upon the stage of war, and once chased after those who lived in dreams. We lacked food and drink on the battlefield, and God’s protection was nowhere to be seen. Many years prior, the war priest lost the ability to walk in the mountains and never recovered. We never had the luxury of asking for the bodies of our friends to be buried with prayer. All we could do was dig a hole and bury him, sprinkle alcohol on him, or place a piece of jerky in the stead of a grave marker.”

When they heard his words, those who looked to be reputed for their battle stories listened with stern expressions, because this was none other than a battle story.

“As one who lived through that era, I believe that making the departed’s last wish come true would be an offering for his new journey.”

All the lords got down from their chairs and bowed on one knee to show their allegiance.

At this point, the priests could not stay obstinate, either. If they did not maintain good relationships with the lords, it would not turn out well for them once they returned home.

There was a great moment of silence as the old lord waited for protests from the priests.

Then, once he saw that they all had lowered their eyes, he spoke.

“In the ways of the battlefield, I will bury this man like he was my friend. You, the holy men…”

The lambs of God raised their eyes.

“Pray for the bread coins buried in his grave, so that they may reach heaven.”

The priests all exchanged glances.

It was not about who was more important than whom.

Since no one knew whose prayer would send the bread coins to heaven, there would be no arguments over appearance and pride.

“Then…well…”

Listening to the mumbled voices of agreement, the old lord nodded.

“Then this conversation is over! Take action!”

When he slammed his hand on the table, everyone stood up straight.

With that, the sudden commotion in Nyohhira concluded.

The company carrying the coffin went in droves to the cave where the traveler slept. It looked as though a few of the bathhouse masters went along with them, but Lawrence, who had stayed up all night, only watched them off.

He had proposed his idea to the old lord yesterday, and after he received enthusiastic support, they went around to each bathhouse in the village with their story. That itself took quite a bit of time, but he also had to wake up the kitchen attendant, Hanna, after enlisting Aram and Selim to help knead the dough. They heated up the oven as well as the seal, branding iron, and the embosser, then finished making the lightly baked bread as dawn broke.

Exhaustion bore heavily on his shoulders and back, and the backs of his eyes stung.

Lawrence thought about how he could have conducted trade for three days straight without a wink of sleep when he was young and smiled wryly.

Once the majority of the people had headed out toward the mountain, he finally spoke.

“Do you want to go back to the bathhouse?”

Holo, who had come to watch what was going on at the meeting hall, nodded shortly. They clasped hands, and Holo began to scratch away at the dough that clung to his fingers no matter how many times he washed them.

“Hey, that hurts.”

Holo did not respond, concentrating as she scratched away at the dough stuck to his fingernails.

“…Do you want to go see the burial?”

She paused.

After a few paces, she started scratching at him again.

“No.”

She spoke like a sulking little girl.

“Right. The disturbance stays safely underground.”

Holo huffed as if she were telling him the only reason she stopped scraping at his fingers was because she was bored.

They walked silently through the village of Nyohhira, its typically lively streets now quiet and empty. It was almost as if all that merrymaking had just been a dream.

“Are you afraid to sleep?”

When he asked that, Holo’s body froze, and she stopped in her tracks.

There was no other reason for her to refrain from drinking and going to sleep after spending the whole night kneading dough.

If she fell asleep, she might wake up from this dream.

That terrified her, so she accompanied Lawrence.

There was a hint of a smile on his face as he watched her. He took a step out in front of her and felt around in his breast pocket.

He pulled out a thin piece of bread, the design of a wolf burned onto it.

“Here.”

Lawrence held it out to Holo’s mouth, but she turned away, grimacing.

He shrugged, broke it in half, and ate it himself.

“Take the rest.”

He placed a piece of the bread in the pouch stuffed with wheat that hung from Holo’s neck. She had given the old pouch of wheat to Myuri, so this was a new one.

Holo did not resist, but she glanced at him, wondering what he was up to.

“With this, if you wake up alone, in some wheat field far away—”

Holo’s eyes opened wide mid-sentence, astonished.

Exasperated, Lawrence smiled as he held both of her cheeks in his hands.

“If that happens, just follow the scent of this bread. That is where you’ll find me.”

Holo stared up at Lawrence, and when he smiled, tears poured from her eyes.

Then finally, she must have remembered how she called herself the wisewolf.

Holo, who had wolf ears and a tail the same color as her flaxen hair, took a deep breath, then forced herself to smile.

“Then make it so it is not bread but spice.”

“Because that makes food more delicious?”

Then, after a burst of laughter, Holo clung to Lawrence.

Lawrence embraced her slender frame and spoke.

“Let’s head back to the bathhouse now. The bathhouse you and I created.”

As her tail whipped back and forth, Holo nodded and gripped Lawrence’s hand. This time, she no longer held it as if she had something else to say.

The two walked together.

It was the short Nyohhira summer.

Above them hung a bright blue sky that seemed like it might swallow them whole.