Spice and Wolf - Volume 20 - Chapter 5

HARVEST AUTUMN AND WOLF

There was a quiet rustling sound, and Lawrence woke up.

For a moment, he reassured himself there was no way it could be snow. Though the summers passed by quickly in Nyohhira, it was still much too early.

As his vision cleared, he saw Holo brushing her tail.

“That sound…”

Once it started snowing, work in the bathhouse would suddenly grow busy. Lawrence breathed a sigh of relief and let his strained neck relax.

It was just after the beginning of autumn, and the summer guests had gone home. There was still some time to prepare for winter, a precious part of year when he was allowed to fall back asleep.

“Make sure you throw out the shed hairs…”

Lawrence said, and as he pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, he turned away from Holo.

It was a time when he would give in to his bubbling drowsiness so that it might soothe the year’s fatigue.

“Oh.”

A pile of fur was placed on his face. Of course, it was not rabbit fur meant for keeping him warm.

There was no doubting its beautiful lay, but there was a different character about it compared to that of deer or rabbits or other animals that nibbled on grass and nuts. Yet, it was not rough like that of a fox, nor stiff like that of a bear.

It was dignified and smooth, fur that could slip through the wilderness like wind—the pelt of a wolf.

Although he usually praised and admired it, now it was just getting in the way of his sleep.

“Urgh…What…?”

He swatted it away rather cruelly, and this time, Holo slapped him across the cheek.

“Did you not say we would go collect chestnuts today?”

“We can go at noon…”

It was ingrained in his body that if he swatted not just her tail but also her hand away, Holo would get angry.

Almost unconsciously Lawrence gripped the hand on his cheek, wrapped his fingers around it, and went in for the kiss…but just as he was pulling it toward him, he lost out to his sleepiness and began to snore.

Holo, now alone, sighed, her tail swishing back and forth.

“You fool.”

With a murmur, she too slipped under the covers and clung to Lawrence’s back.

It was the beginning of autumn.

The whole of Nyohhira was silent, a calm air drifting through the morning.

Lawrence left messages for Hanna, who ran the kitchen, and Selim, who, despite having only been at the bathhouse for less than a year, could be depended on for anything from household chores to bookkeeping. He finally left the bathhouse after having fallen back asleep countless times, and by now it was almost noon. To make things worse, the days were short in Nyohhira, so it could grow dark at any time.

Lawrence shouldered a sack stuffed with bread and roasted, cured meats for lunch, as well as a folding bag for the nuts and mushrooms he collected plus waterskins for the water and wine they would drink along the way.

He dressed like this when he was once a peddling merchant, but Holo was unburdened as she walked ahead along the road, taunting a dragonfly with a stick she found.

“Don’t you think this is unfair?”

Lawrence spoke as he adjusted the luggage, while Holo blankly stared back.

“What is?”

She feigned such innocence that Lawrence sighed and responded, “Nothing.”

Holo walked through the forest so lightly that it almost seemed as though her slender frame had sprouted wings. Although she resembled a young girl around the age of ten, she was actually the avatar of a wolf that resided in wheat and would live for hundreds of years, so she was adept at trekking through the mountains.

Not only that, she had wolf ears and a tail, and her small body concealed the power of a giant wolf. She would occasionally stop and sniff and, without turning back toward Lawrence, poke at tree roots with her stick or use it to point at things.

Like the faithful manservant he was, Lawrence would take a look at where she pointed and typically find grand patches of mushrooms. Occasionally there would be a field mouse nest, its inhabitants peering up at them nervously from their hole. He apologized for Holo’s bad behavior and left them a piece of mushroom.

“You’re in a good mood today.”

Lawrence spoke cheerfully, opening up one of the bags he carried as he plucked a mushroom.

She must have felt more open since her wolf ears and tail were now exposed, which she usually kept cramped and hidden under a bandanna or sash as others were watching in the bathhouse. There were many guests during the summer and Holo had quite a bit of her own work. Then this year, in the middle of their work, they found the body of a traveler who had gotten lost in this land so long ago and perished, which had also caused a bit of an uproar. The whole commotion was now over, and she seemed to be enjoying the crisp, clear autumn weather from the bottom of her heart.

Lawrence, too, felt at ease.

In a typical year, their only daughter, Myuri, would have been with them. Myuri, as innocent as the sun itself, acted just like a wolf pup when she entered the forest. She never looked straight ahead as she rushed around, tumbling or running into things, and always laughed out loud. There were more than one or two times that she had put a poisonous mushroom in her mouth as a test of her own courage.

This year they were not being kept in suspense over Myuri’s barbarous deeds, so they could even lazily gaze at the squirrels sitting atop a tree branch, nibbling on a nut, as they walked by.

But Lawrence loved the unbearable liveliness.

It had been over six months since his only daughter, Myuri, left on a journey with Col, whom she looked up to as an older brother. Lawrence wondered if he was concerned about the two not just because of simple parental affection but because he depended so deeply on the liveliness that was now gone.

And so there was a good reason Holo taunted Lawrence for being a fool when she saw him worrying over Myuri, reading and rereading the letters she sent him.

Because the reason Holo seemed so oddly bright as she ran ahead on the path was likely to bury these quiet, empty spaces.

“…No, am I overestimating her?”

On the road ahead of him, Holo was pretending to hunt snakes with a young fox that must have just gained its independence. There were fallen leaves stuck to her vaunted tail, and she was cackling delightfully.

“Oof.”

He should have expected it, but with Holo’s guidance, who knew the mountains around Nyohhira extremely well, down to the location of every mousehole, and even though she played as she walked, the bags he brought were soon stuffed full. He might find himself exhausted before they came to where the chestnut trees grew.

Lawrence called for an early break, and like a spirit of the forest, Holo pointed farther into the woods.

There was an old, fallen tree and a sunny clearing. When he sat down on the old tree, on which grew a single flower of a slim stem and light pink petals, and let down his bags, they already had enough mushrooms to sell.

“Here, ’tis water.”

As he sat on the felled tree preparing for lunch, Holo appeared, holding a waterskin.

She must have retrieved fresh water from a stream somewhere.

“Oh, thanks. I’m getting food ready, so just hold on a sec.”

“Mm. With plenty of meat, of course.”

Her voice contained not even a hint of mischief. She spoke as she stood by Lawrence, her narrowed eyes blissfully gazing at the trees swaying in the breeze.

Lawrence smiled slightly, and in jest, he stuffed the bread full of meat, then passed it to Holo.

After Holo’s eyes widened in surprise, she took it with a beaming smile.

The autumn forest was the best pantry, but the woods at this time of year were much more dangerous than the mounds of snow in the winter. That was because the things that humans thought were delicious to eat were also delicious for other animals.

Holo had gathered a heap of chestnuts in a childlike obsession but ultimately could not carry them all back and was then sitting in her spot, picking out the ones that had been eaten by bugs.

At that moment, Lawrence heard the snapping of a twig being stepped on and turned around to see a large bear towering over him. If he did not move carefully, a swing of one of those claws would kill him instantly. Lawrence froze and stared back into its black eyes when Holo returned, her tail wagging.

“What is it you need?”

Lawrence was human and did not understand the feelings of the beasts in the forest. However, as the avatar of a wolf, Holo did understand their feelings, and Lawrence in turn understood Holo’s. So if he watched her expression, he could generally tell what the animal was thinking.

When he saw Holo’s calm smile, he could somehow tell that the bear that had appeared before them was a polite one.

“You wish for chestnuts? I do not mind if you take these. They have bugs. Take as many as you wish.”

The bear gave a brief sigh-like snort, stuffed its nose into the pile of bugged chestnuts that Holo and Lawrence had picked out, and began to devour them.

Holo watched it happily, and when the bear suddenly lifted its head as though thinking of something, she put the waterskin to its mouth and let it drink.

“How are the bees this year? Does it seem they will make it through the winter, I wonder?”

Holo, who loved sweets, was trying to ask the master of the forest about the bees’ movements. The bear seemed to hesitate, perhaps because it did not want to tell her where its favorite honey might be, but its defeated expression suggested it had no choice but to answer when Holo asked, and it grunted softly.

“Hmm. So next spring at Swan’s Peak sounds like the best time.”

Holo’s knowledge of the mountain far surpassed that of the nearby hunters and woodcutters. Lawrence did not mind fully using that knowledge to gather food, but he did not want to be left entirely to gather and catch and deal with all the disposal and processing afterward. He especially did not want to go collect any beehives.

Don’t tell her too much about the beehives, Lawrence signaled to the bear.

As he continued thinking, the bear whispered to Holo, whose ears stood straight up.

“What? A whole patch of lingonberries?!”

It sounded as if she had heard some welcome news, but when Lawrence looked up to the sky, it was already starting to change color.

“Did you hear that? Lingonberries!”

Holo tugged at Lawrence’s sleeve with an earnest expression, but Lawrence kept on sorting the chestnuts.

“The sun will be setting soon, and we have our chestnuts. We have mushrooms. Next time.”

“You fool! If we do not go quickly, they shall be eaten!”

Even with a massive bear waiting on her, Holo still acted like a child when it came to food.

“We wouldn’t be able to eat all that in a day. It’d be a different story if there were multiple gluttonous wolves, though.”

In a typical year, both his sleeves would be pulled on in this kind of situation: on his right sleeve, the Wisewolf Holo; on his left, his only daughter, Myuri.

“Tomorrow, then. We must!”

Lawrence heaved a sigh and agreed. However, it would be a mistake to tell her that if she really wanted to eat them that much, then she should just go on her own. Holo wanted to go together.

And he gave up, because it was his troublesome personality that made him happy whenever she made such selfish requests.

“But lingonberries, huh? Should we preserve some in sugar and send them to Myuri?” Lawrence murmured, and Holo’s ears twitched.

“She pesters little Col for delicious things anyhow. ’Twould be best not to spoil her.”

Though Holo looked like a rather proper mother in Myuri’s presence, they competed with each other like sisters when it came to fighting over food.

Apart from that, Lawrence regretted mentioning Myuri’s name.

Once he opened his mouth, the words he had bottled up in his heart spilled forth.

“We haven’t heard from her in a while…I hope she’s okay.”

“No news is good news, is it not?”

“Well, I guess so…”

It had sounded like Col, who had set off with high hopes, and Myuri, who followed closely after, clinging to him as an older brother, were causing quite the fuss in many places.

Though Lawrence thought it might turn out all right for them, he could not rid himself of his seeds of worry.

More importantly, his precious only daughter was traveling alone with a man of age, even though that man was the honest and straightforward Col. As Lawrence worried himself over all these unpleasant thoughts, he felt a whack.

There was Holo, annoyed.

“I swear, you never change.”

Though he knew Holo was right, he still could not shake his distress. Exasperated, she went to pet the bear’s neck.

“Males are fools.”

It seemed this was a female bear. Lawrence felt somewhat inferior since realizing the bathhouse, too, had become women’s territory. He tossed away the bug-eaten chestnuts, brushed off his hands, and stood up.

“Let’s start heading back.”

When Lawrence spoke, Holo gave the bear one last pat on the head and, unlike when they came, picked up and carried some of the luggage herself. It looked quite heavy on her slim physique, but she did not return to her wolf form.

As she staggered, she grasped Lawrence’s hand firmly.

“What do you think might be for dinner tonight?”

Lawrence gave a tired smile, and as he conversed with Holo about nothing but good food, they went along the forest road back home.

It was the best time of the day in the best season.

Lawrence enjoyed his trifling conversations with Holo as they walked, but he suddenly noticed that Holo’s expression had clouded over.

It was when they were almost back at the bathhouse.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mm…”

Holo was staring farther down the path in the direction of the bathhouse.

She was sniffing incessantly, her ears and tail twitching nervously.

“Did something happen at the bathhouse?”

The worst case would be a fire, but she would have turned back into a wolf by now if it was. Lawrence could hardly imagine that a thief had snuck in and was causing trouble. Neither Hanna or Selim, both of whom had stayed behind, were human, so if thieves barged in, they should be able to fight back.

Then in that case…

“Could it be—Myuri’s home?”

Lawrence grew restless as he spoke, and Holo finally gazed back at him and sneered.

“You fool. But not too far from the mark.”

Lawrence cocked his head to one side, and Holo readjusted the bags on her shoulders, speaking in a somewhat disgruntled tone.

“I do not quite know what it might be, but it smells of many beasts.”

Had a traveling animal tamer come to stay?

He wondered as they returned to the bathhouse where there was a group of about ten guests. It was rather unusual to have newcomers who not only had come out of season but did not send a message beforehand. Lawrence discovered Selim’s flustered face among the group.

The reason being…

“Uh…Everyone?”

…every single one of these off-season guests was nonhuman.

Horses, sheep, goats, cows, rabbits, birds, deer. There were even two girls who looked older than Holo and Selim, wearing the default nun outfit for traveling women.

After they all introduced themselves, they extended their greetings to Holo and Selim respectfully and even gave quite a long message to Lawrence.

But it was clear to see how genuinely pleased they seemed to be since they did not fear Holo or Selim, the wolves. The tall Deer who had been the last of the group to greet Lawrence grasped his shoulders with his large hands.

“I had been hoping to come to this bathhouse one day! A bathhouse made just for people like us!”

Lawrence’s vision was swimming. Holo looked on blankly, but the other guests were smiling and nodding in total agreement with the Deer.

“Heavens, my wishes have been fulfilled, and I am finally here. Everyone jumped at the offer to gather when I invited them. We faced much hardship on the road since we are not used to travel, but oh! How delighted we are to be here!”

The Deer embraced Lawrence heartily when he was finished.

Lawrence responded vaguely with ahs and ohs as he repeated the Deer’s words to himself.

A bathhouse made just for people like us?

“I am honored to receive such kind words, but…may I ask from whom you heard about us?”

There were some patrons who first visited on their own and invitations were not necessary to stay at the bathhouse, but most of their guests came at others’ recommendations.

Responding to Lawrence’s question was a short, rotund goat, who looked as if he ran his own liquor store.

“No one in particular, really, but it is quite well-known to us who live in the south. They say there is a hot spring land far to the north of this world, where we can escape from all conflict. That if we went, there would be a bathhouse that even we can relax in without minding the eyes of humans. And the name of that bathhouse is…”

“Spice and Wolf!”

As though planned beforehand, the rest of them chanted in unison.

There was no doubt that on their long journey, they had gathered around a fire and talked about their destination.

He knew that painfully well, and it felt as though his heart would burst with happiness.

But that was the very reason why there was something he felt terrible about.

“I see…Well, I’m very happy to welcome you after such a long journey.”

As a former merchant and as the master of the bathhouse, Lawrence first swallowed all his queries and welcomed them with the widest grin he could muster. Mentioning to Selim how tired they must be after their journey, he had her take them to their rooms.

After he watched their sudden, strange guests disappear into the bathhouse, Lawrence scratched his head lightly.

Beside him, Holo shrugged in exasperation.

“Rumors travel faster than my legs.”

“And not very accurately, either.”

Lawrence mentioned what might have happened.

The acquaintances he had made on his journey with Holo must have told fellow avatars plenty about their bathhouse. Those who heard about it in turn told their acquaintances out of novelty. Nonhumans were sometimes mixed in among their guests’ attendants. They follow their masters innocently, and many of them were trying to make it in the world, using their talents as embodiments of beasts while they lived their lives as humans. It was apparently a difficult thing to blend in with the human world, and many of them saw Holo as the very proof of hope and fortune.

He could imagine how they had exaggerated about this bathhouse.

Yet, it was too much to say that this was a bathhouse where nonhumans could relax freely.

“It’s fine since there’s no one else around this time of year…”

“’Twould be quite the trouble if they came in winter.”

The feeling of being cramped from having to conceal herself from humans in such a small bathhouse was the source of part of Holo’s discontent.

“I have my apprehensions, but we’ll let them know about the bathhouse’s situation and make sure they enjoy their time here as much as possible.”

Lawrence thought about how pleased he was to see they had come with such high expectations, but Holo stood beside him, her expression still clouded.

“Shy as usual?”

Lawrence teased Holo, and her ears and tail bristled. “Fool,” she scoffed, stomping on his foot.

Then she shamelessly clung to him.

“…’Tis beneath my dignity.”

While he was surprised she embraced him so suddenly, he hugged her back and smirked.

Certainly, it would be entirely unacceptable for the ruler of the forest to fawn on a human like a puppy before the embodiments of herbivores.

He could laugh it off as a show of vanity, but there were many rules for an eternal maiden.

“Then do you want me to fawn over you? You can keep up your appearance that way.”

Holo’s ears stood on end.

The silly wisewolf almost fell into the trap of Lawrence’s words, but she managed to avoid it in the end.

“You fool. That sounds like I am the one who is always fawning on you.”

Telling her, “But isn’t that true?” would earn him a bite.

Lawrence slumped his shoulders, smiling, then took Holo’s hand and kissed it.

“I am indebted to you for always spending time with me.”

“Hmm.”

Holo was greatly pleased with her vassal’s show of gratitude, but they soon exchanged dry smiles and began their preparations to entertain their guests.

The name of the land of Nyohhira was almost legend in the south.

Most humans born in villages and towns never left their homes for their whole lives. Even the sailors who traveled all over the world only went from coast to coast and typically knew very little about the countries they visited.

And so, to travel for more than a month to a distant hot spring land deep in the mountains would not guarantee a safe return—it was a literal journey to the ends of the earth.

Perhaps for that very reason, once the stories reached the lands where these off-season guests lived, they were full of embellishments and exaggerations, some of which were clearly wrong.

“We sheep avatars are very proud of the stories of Ruvinheigen, the city of the Church—how Sir Lawrence and Lady Holo worked together alongside the legendary golden sheep to completely overturn the monopoly of trade that obstinate Church held over the gold.”

“I, too, have heard of your activities in the town of Lenos. I was so happy—how indignant you were over the state of the fur trade and how you invested so much money to secure the furs.”

The Deer replied to the Sheep. There was a deerskin that lay before the fire where they all sat in a circle, and Lawrence’s bottom squirmed slightly.

“My, well, it is the very original story that has moved us the most: the story of the village of Pasloe, which had forgotten their debt of gratitude and tried to attack Lady Holo, and of Sir Lawrence, who overcame the attack with true love! From what I hear, you hired mercenaries with several thousand silver, no?”

“That is incorrect. Sir Lawrence bought back the sheaf of wheat in which Lady Holo slept from an unscrupulous merchant with all his assets—”

“That’s strange, because from what I heard—”

Lawrence somehow managed to imagine which original events were causing the misunderstandings.

He simply sat there smiling wryly, but what truly worried him was Holo.

He stole a glance at her as she was just taking a sip of wine, and she looked at him as if to say, I will not be mad over this.

“Sir Lawrence, what is the truth?!”

The noisy guests, aided by alcohol and the invigoration of finishing a long journey, pushed closer to Lawrence, and he recoiled, while the two female guests sandwiched Holo beside him.

“Your story of romance with Master Lawrence has been famous for so long!”

“Is it true that the deciding factor was the luster of your tail?”

Questions that frightened him by just imagining how Holo would respond reached Lawrence’s ears.

When he turned his gaze toward her, all she did was briefly flashed a mischievous grin.

“Sir Lawrence, please stay with us until morning!”

The guests had raised their mugs in cheer many times as they sat around a pot of mushroom stew, no meat.

Lawrence talked about his journey with Holo in a way that would not crush their dreams. It was a story of a once-grand adventure, one he no longer looked back on often.

At the same time, he also enjoyed hearing the news they brought from the towns he once passed through.

What particularly surprised him when he asked who they heard these stories from was that they knew Elsa and had even made the trip to the small village where she lived with Evan, the miller. That was where the writings about the ancient era that Elsa’s father collected were located, so they must have had their own reasons to go there.

As Lawrence pondered this, someone quietly held out something before him.

It was a horse, who wore a dauntless expression among the others with kind features.

“This is for you, Sir Lawrence.”

He held a single envelope.

“What is this?”

“A letter from Lady Elsa.”

“From Elsa?”

“I had to give it to you before we drank too much.”

The Horse spoke with a hint of jest as he smiled, but there was already someone collapsed on the floor, snoring, and Selim was placing a blanket over him. Lawrence said his thanks and took the envelope.

Elsa was honest and had been working frantically for the church her father left behind. She was one they owed much to—when Lawrence could not make the last step in his relationship with Holo, she scolded them for not taking each other’s hands when they loved each other so. Though the unexpected visitors must have taken her by surprise, it was very much like her to faithfully send out a letter, and that made him happy.

“Thank you so much.”

“Oh no, this is my regular work. I cannot relax and drink while I am carrying a letter.”

The Horse grinned. He must use his quick legs as the embodiment of a horse as well. And since a courier’s work required more trust than that of a merchant, it surely seemed to match the stern-faced Horse in personality as well.

Lawrence stared at the envelope from Elsa, and a thought crossed his mind. He wondered if he could have them deliver a letter to Col and Myuri.

There had been few letters as of late, so he was not entirely sure where they were or what they were doing now. It seemed as if it would trouble many people in order to send one, so he hesitated. He thought for a moment that this Horse could quickly and reliably deliver a letter to them.

However, he did not know what Holo would say to him if he did.

Regardless, Holo must surely be in emotional turmoil during this banquet as they all spoke of the past. It was she who had wished Lawrence would quit his work as a traveling merchant and settle down in one place, yet still wondered if she was the one who crushed his dreams.

She had also been interrupted while she was relaxing, so he decided to hold back on agitating her any further.

Lawrence thought about all this and slipped Elsa’s letter, along with his request to the Horse, into his breast pocket.

“Thank you for delivering Elsa’s letter.”

The Horse smiled when Lawrence spoke, everyone around them clapped, and they began to drink again.

The lively banquet continued late into the night.

“Urgh…”

Lawrence awoke to a hideously dry throat, and found himself somewhere that was not his bedroom. There was a single large log in the fireplace before him, a weak flame clinging to it. A blanket had been placed on him up to his shoulders, and when he pushed himself up, every single one of his joints ached.

“Oh, good morning.”

Selim was just entering the hall; she carried her broom and was already back at work.

Feeling guilty, Lawrence scratched his head, and Selim beamed anxiously back at him.

“Everyone is in the baths.”

“And Holo?”

Had she gone to bed alone, she would certainly be in a terrible mood this morning.

And since there were none of Holo’s hairs on the blanket that had been placed on him, that meant she had not crawled in with him as she usually did.

At the same time, Lawrence noticed a piece of paper under the blanket. He picked it up and it read, “Seems to be quite an important letter, hmm?” in that familiar, messy handwriting. She must have meant to ask why he was sleeping with a letter from another woman in his pocket.

He thought it was a joke, since it was unlikely she would forget Elsa’s scent, but Lawrence glanced up at Selim timidly.

“Lady Holo is in the baths with them as well. Um…She took a lot of alcohol with her…”

Selim was also in charge of purchases.

From the way she spoke, it sounded as if they were drinking enough for her to cradle her head as she sat before the books.

“Oof…Okay. Thanks.”

“Certainly,” Selim replied, taking the blanket from Lawrence’s hands. “Would you like some water?”

Lawrence waved his hand in response to her question as she folded the blanket.

“I’m all right. I want to wash my face anyway.”

Selim was working in the stead of her foolish master, who had passed out after drinking. He could not bother her any more than this. Selim bowed her head respectfully and began cleaning the great hall.

Lawrence headed toward the kitchen as he tapped his head over his slight headache. Hanna was there, running about cooking as always. He passed through and exited to the garden where he washed his face in the well.

He could hear jubilant voices coming from the baths just a little ways away.

He wondered if he should show himself at the baths, but it would be bad if he appeared at the wrong time and they offered him a drink. And if Holo was upset, then things would not end well.

Lawrence wiped his face as he returned to the building to tidy up, but he ran into someone in the corridor. It was the Horse who had delivered the letter from Elsa.

Most men looked more dignified when lit by the firelight, and women, more charming. Though it was a common thing to be disappointed to see what these people looked like in the sunlight, the Horse seemed to be rather polished in his sternness.

Well, what made him think he looked polished was his cleanly shaven face and the well-creased clothes he wore.

“Good morning, Sir Lawrence.”

He looked more like a palace servant from a castle than someone here to bathe.

Lawrence greeted him in return, and wondering about the clothes he wore, he asked about them.

“Do you typically wear clothes like this?”

He probably did not wear these when relaxing in the baths.

“No, I am on my way to work.”

Lawrence was surprised, and the Horse looked somewhat apologetic.

“And there is something I wish to ask you, Sir Lawrence.”

“Me? What might it be?”

“Well. I was hoping you might tell me where this bathhouse is.”

The Horse pulled out an envelope from his pocket, a decorative piece of fabric held in place by a wax seal on top. Lawrence had heard that it was the culture of nobles when sending a letter to someone important, but it was his first time seeing it.

There was the name of a Nyohhira bathhouse on the decorative fabric.

“…I understand why you are dressed that way now, but what is the meaning of this?”

The question slipped from his mouth, but he realized that the Horse would not be serving as a courier if he was liable to leak the contents of a noble’s letter to any outsider. Lawrence smiled apologetically, but the Horse grinned and shook his head.

“Don’t worry, it is nothing political. The noble who gave me the letter rather ordered me to spread word of this letter along the road.”

“Huh?”

Spread word of the letter?

Lawrence stared back at the Horse, not understanding at all, and the Horse calmly closed his eyes and spoke, as though a herald announcing a notice on the street given to him by his lord.

“Those that pass by, stop and listen. The Rosen Kingdom sends word in the name of the lord of the Subarb Territory. This is the tale of the hero who sailed on our ship.”

The Horse, who held the envelope gently with both hands and a solemn expression, stood even straighter than the crisp creases on his clothes.

“He voyaged on our boat, sent to us by God, and bravely sailed the seven seas. Through God’s command, he always kept bravery with him to protect those rowing out into the open ocean.”

When he got that far, Lawrence remembered which bathhouse it was meant to go to and understood what sort of letter it was.

That bathhouse had one of their sons leave on a journey after being asked to work for one of their guests, a territorial lord. This village was much too small for young people, and the world opened up the path to adventure and success.

But what came back was a letter, and the one who was delivering it was the very picture of a stern courier.

Had he accomplished and been successful in what he set out to do, he would have come back himself.

Lawrence looked at the Horse.

“He fought bravely and went to God’s side. In our name, we praise his glory.”

And in the same manner, he had repeated his story before the bathhouse in question.

It did seem to come out of nowhere, but they must have been somewhat prepared for it when they saw their son off.

The bathhouse master had hung his head but quickly found composure and honored the esteemed messenger.

It sounded as though the youngster who left the village had entered the service of a coastal country and had become a sailor to learn the ways of seabound knights. Since lords would not typically send notice directly to a vassal’s hometown if they were not of high standing, he must have distinguished himself appropriately in battle.

“Therefore, in accordance with the rules of the sailors, we are sending you this remuneration from the ship.”

The Horse had retrieved a pouch stuffed full of silver coins from his pocket and handed it to the master. The master had thanked him again and welcomed the Horse inside the house. There was nothing left for Lawrence to do, standing there. He gave the Horse a silent bow, turned on his heels, and left.

Nyohhira was quiet again today, and the sky was clear.

He, too, had come across misfortune once in a while during his own travels. There were many times he had to look away from those begging for help. He thought he had perfected the skill of meeting the cold, stinging wind with a blank expression long ago.

But he shivered lightly in the autumn breeze.

He now had too many things he did not want to lose.

He understood this even more clearly when he looked at the Horse who had come to report the boy’s death.

Lawrence quickly returned to his own bathhouse.

He could not be the master of a bathhouse of happiness and smiles with such a hard expression.

He smacked his cheeks and lifted his spirits before entering the bathhouse, and the sight before him caught him by surprise.

There was Holo, lying on the floor of the big hall, a wet cloth on her forehead, her face bright red.

“Sir Lawrence.”

The Rabbit addressed him. He looked to be the type who would juggle as he sold sweet pastries to children if Lawrence saw him in town, perhaps because of his jolly features.

The way he diligently fanned Holo with a blanket as she groaned seemed like a scene from a comedy routine.

“Wh-what is all this?”

“Oh dear, well, we were doing some drinking games with Lady Holo in the baths…”

She must have overheated after drinking too much.

It was great work for her to join guests as they partied, but it was all for nothing after drinking away her reason.

“Hey, Holo.”

Lawrence called her name, and it seemed as though she was conscious as she opened her eyes slightly. Holo was drunk, a sight he had seen many times on their journey and since they had opened the bathhouse.

“…Water.”

Her eyes wavered as she groaned quietly, and Lawrence sighed.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said to the Rabbit, who seemed somewhat apologetic, perhaps feeling responsible for making Holo drink, but he bowed his head and left the hall.

Lawrence sighed again, dropped to his knees beside Holo, and reached for the pitcher.

It was empty.

“How much did you drink?”

Holo tried to answer, but burped instead.

“Stay here. I’ll go draw some fresh water.”

Lawrence stood as he spoke, and Holo opened her mouth.

“…I…win…”

He was caught by surprise, but in the end, he smiled.

“You’re supposed to lose when you’re the host.”

“…Fool…”

She managed the single word before hiccuping loudly.

Lawrence heaved another sigh as he took the pitcher and headed toward the kitchen—with Holo acting this way, that meant all the work would end up on Miss Selim’s shoulders again.

They still had to pretreat, dry, and cure the mushrooms they gathered yesterday, and they still had to roast the chestnuts before bugs made their home in them, dip them in honey, or dry them and ground them into flour. As Lawrence thought about this and that, he found people busily running in and out of the kitchen, their sleeves rolled up.

“Oh, Sir Lawrence.”

“Erm…?”

“Oh, water, I see.”

Without any regard to his sheer bewilderment, the pitcher was plucked from his hand.

“My, Lady Holo sure can drink. Those among us we called bottomless pits swiftly lost. They must be passed out in their rooms about now.”

With a loud guffaw, the man jogged swiftly out to the well in the garden.

Lawrence, rooted to the spot, had no idea what to say to the people doing the chores in the kitchen and stood there blankly. One person washed mushrooms, one cracked the rock salt, one meticulously peeled the chestnuts, and another stirred the pot of honey as sweat dripped from his forehead.

Among them all was Hanna, giving out orders with great dignity.

“Miss Hanna, what is all this?”

Lawrence asked, and Hanna shrugged dramatically and approached him.

“Lady Holo asked them to work in her drunken stead.”

Lawrence’s mouth twisted bitterly, but the people working all looked up and grinned delightedly.

“Lady Holo was the winner, after all.”

“We promised.”

“And what a magnificent drinker she proved to be!”

Those compliments did not sound like lies, but it was now clear that Holo had participated in a drinking game to bet on the work she did not want to do. And since she could drink during the day, there was nothing better for her.

There was a hint of the self-proclaimed wisewolf’s cunning.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Sir Lawrence.”

Lawrence took the pitcher with a word of thanks, then said to the others, “No need to work too hard,” and left the kitchen.

The cold water chilled his hands through the metal as Lawrence walked down the corridors, contemplating. He wondered if his hunch was correct, so instead of returning to the great hall, he went up to the second floor, and there the two women were merrily sweeping and cleaning the floors.

“Ah, greetings, Master Lawrence!”

He had thought they were both dressed as nuns in order to travel, but perhaps they were always this elegant. They were older than Holo, but yet not as docile as Selim—the kind of girls who would be allowed to hold candles at a town festival and be very popular with the young men.

He thought he remembered them saying they were sisters at the banquet the day before.

“…You didn’t make a bet with Holo, did you?”

The two exchanged glances, then beamed.

“We are the type who get restless when we cannot do work, actually.”

Though they wore long robe-like dresses, their sleeves were rolled up, and their hems roughly tied up to their knees. Such a sloppy kind of look made them seem healthy, and at the same time, Lawrence found himself oddly flustered when he caught a glimpse of their long, bare legs, brimming with youthful, feminine vigor.

He thought quietly to himself how thankful he was that Holo was asleep downstairs.

As they worked, the two women finished collecting the dust, examined the hallway in satisfaction, and spoke.

“I also heard we still have to clean the soot in the chimney and sweep the ash by the stove.”

“Should we clean the silverware? I just adore it when things shine like that!”

“We’ve been itching to do so the whole way here. Oh, how we wish we could clean!”

They had a cheerfulness about them that was different from Myuri’s explosiveness and, of course, Holo’s. It seemed they genuinely enjoyed cleaning.

Not only that but the hallway was spotless. Moreover, they had not neglected to open the windows and doors slightly to air it out. Their great skill suggested that they were used to working in large mansions. When they mentioned cleaning the silverware, he remembered that they were apparently embodiments of birds, and he somewhat understood. All the bird nests he saw in the forest were magnificent yet neat, and when jewelry went missing from town, the first places anyone searched were the nearby trees.

That being said, he still wondered if it was okay to let guests do the dirty work. These were all originally Holo’s jobs, and he felt even more guilty when he thought about how she was currently sleeping on the floor, drunk.

On the other hand, if the women had free time and wanted to work, then maybe it was the right decision to let them do so. The peak season had passed anyhow, so there were no musicians or dancers or acrobats and no other way to spend the time.

Lawrence worried over it for a few moments, then raised the question.

“…Is this all really okay?”

The two women looked at each other and responded gleefully in unison, “Of course!”

Besides the two who were passed out in their rooms after losing to Holo in the drinking game, there were eight total people working, and the bathhouse suddenly turned into one massive cleanup job.

Most of the work Lawrence should have done had been taken from him, and he spotted Selim countless times, now with very little to do, wandering around aimlessly. In the end, she must have remembered that only she could do the bookkeeping, so she began her calculations for ordering and such at the counter.

Lawrence sat by Holo in the great hall as he watched everyone while tending to the fire. Holo must have sobered up as she looked less pained, and he could hear her soft, comfortable snores. It was not beneath her dignity to show herself like this.

He pulled the blanket back over her when it slipped off as she rolled over, and he brushed away the hair that stuck to her cheek. Her wolf ears twitched, slightly tickled, and her soft snores continued.

He had braced himself when a whole group of guests came as they relaxed, thinking about how busy they would be afterward to prepare for winter, so though it was just a little bit, he would thank Holo for her craftiness.

If their guests worked hard, then Lawrence and Holo would gain more time together.

Lawrence smiled at Holo’s calm sleeping face, then turned his gaze to the fire in the stove. The big, fat log that was put in there this morning was burning as lazily as always. It looked as though it could burn forever.

This was Nyohhira, a special village protected by the steams of the baths and the melodies of musicians. It had not been touched by war for hundreds of years and has always offered hot water and smiles to people. There were many who called this place the land of dreams, and many others worked hard to make it that way.

But that did not mean they were free from reality.

Lawrence sighed. He thought he understood this, but it just reminded him how the steam from the baths clouded his vision. Bad news could come suddenly one day. A messenger with crisp clothing and a grave expression would open the envelope with bright white gloves and read the words aloud. Lawrence would be able to do nothing but listen. The most he could do was, at the very least, cover his ears. At the end of his train of thought, he looked at Holo.

That was the fate she was so afraid of.

The moment when a sudden gust of freezing wind came from beyond the steam, long after they grew used to not wearing coats.

Lawrence wordlessly looked at his hand, then suddenly remembered the letter, the one that Elsa sent them.

It was still in his pocket. He pulled it out and opened the seal.

On the page was a stiffly formal greeting, one that reminded him of Elsa’s beautiful honey-colored eyes that contrasted with the constant cross expression on her face. She wrote blandly about the recent goings-on and how she just had her third child.

And then, “Let us meet again.”

It was such a short sentence, but it bore most of the meaning of the letter.

Elsa was fluent when it came to lecturing but typically a poor talker.

Let us meet again.

Before the cold wind withers all the trees.

“Urgh…”

Holo groaned, and Lawrence snapped back to reality.

Her face collided with Lawrence’s foot when she rolled over, and she woke up.

“Oh, ’tis you…”

“Did you think I was a hunk of meat?”

He stroked Holo’s cheek with the back of his finger as he smirked, and her tail thumped happily under the blanket.

Holo lifted her head, and he thought she might rise, but she merely placed her face onto his foot and rustled around to get into a comfortable position. She had no intentions of getting up and working.

Work in the bathhouse was proceeding with much more vigor than anything Holo could manage when she exerted herself, but that was as a result of her cunning. It would not be very good if he indulged her as she dozed about.

Lawrence sighed, and it was just as he reached out to her back to get her up when she asked him a question.

“What was in the letter?”

Lawrence stopped because Holo’s voice sounded more conscious than he thought it would be. It was the voice of Holo the Wisewolf, no hint of inebriation present.

But it did not sound as if she spoke that way because a letter had come from another woman. Holo knew very well how straitlaced Elsa was.

Lawrence relaxed the hand that was going to push her up and instead placed it on her shoulder.

“Greetings so stiff they would break if I smacked them.”

He took a breath.

“And she said, ‘Let us meet again.’”

He had lived a life as a traveling merchant, where those words were accompanied with a wave as he parted with others and never saw them again.

Perhaps that was why he felt so uneasy about Myuri.

“Will you go see her?”

Lawrence could not see Holo’s face as she lay on his foot.

But he had a hunch her eyes were open and staring at the floor.

He did not know what her motives were, but Lawrence knew what his answer was.

“Of course not.”

No matter how he felt, the reality was that he could not go.

Even with Selim in the bathhouse now, he did not know if she could manage it well when many guests came. Not only that, but more guests would come to Nyohhira in the near future from the pilgrimage village that her brothers were building. She had her hands full with chores. That was her life now.

Time would pass as they busied themselves, and it would be impossible for them to even imagine leaving this land. Then someone, perhaps even a guest, would one day knock on the bathhouse door and speak.

A letter for Sir Lawrence…

That was life in human society, and the world was much too wide, the roads far too narrow.

He could only take care of what lay within his reach, and even that could be called a luxury.

Lawrence rubbed Holo’s shoulders, and she inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

“You do nothing but worry about Myuri. Do you wish to see her as well?”

Lawrence stopped moving.

“I heard why that Horse came to this land. Can you imagine what sort of face you returned to the bathhouse with, you fretful fool?”

And which one of us tends to think about the future in such gloomy terms? he thought, but her ears twitched about as though she was suppressing a giggle, so she must have known when she spoke.

But that was why Lawrence did not smile.

Because he did not know why she mentioned that.

“…I know you have to squeeze out the pus in order for a wound to heal. Is that why you’re hitting me where it hurts?”

“You fool,” Holo replied and rolled over.

Her reddish-amber eyes were so kind he recoiled.

“You see…”

She started, then hesitated, her gaze shying away from Lawrence.

Holo then suddenly chuckled, sitting up with grandeur that made it seem as though her pain was finally gone, and snuggled against the flustered Lawrence.

“H-hey, you—”

Holo was not angry, crying, or even annoyed, so he did not know how to respond.

He leaned forward to hold her, and her scent, stronger than usual from sweating after drinking and bathing, tickled his nose.

Holo buried her face into his chest, and as though rubbing her scent onto him, she nuzzled her face back and forth.

“I have been quite spoiled ever since Myuri left.”

“I, uh…”

While that was a truth he would not deny, if he spoke about it out loud, Holo might dig her claws into his back.

In his total discipline, Lawrence struggled to find a response, but Holo chuckled about that, too.

“Eh-heh. My eyes were sharp to have chosen you.”

“…Well, I’d say you did some good shopping, if I do say so myself.”

Holo flapped her ears and tail boisterously when he spoke.

After a bout of chuckling, however, the air surrounding Holo suddenly changed, and she let go of him.

She then spoke quietly.

“But the scales do not even out. I must repay you for everything you have done.”

Holo grinned when she saw how Lawrence could not shake his puzzlement.

He loved her smile, how her fangs stood out, how mischievous and spiteful she looked, yet how she was more caring and earnest than anyone else deep down.

“Let us go on a journey.”

Lawrence was astonished to hear what came from her mouth.

“…Huh? What on earth are…?”

“I say what I mean. We have spent ten years here. ’Tis quite long for the human world. ’Twould be best for us to venture out into the world occasionally. And it might perhaps be for the better in the future if we eased your foolish worries regarding Myuri, no?”

“Well…”

Lawrence faltered over thoughts that would not manifest into words, and Holo shrugged in a familiar way.

“Perhaps you wonder what will become of the bathhouse?”

Of course! Lawrence moved his lips to speak, but no words came out.

Holo should know how much effort was required to operate and maintain the bathhouse. She should have known even better than him how important it was.

There were older masters who closed up shop as they approached their later years and left on pilgrimages.

But it was still much too early for him.

Holo always spoke her mind when she came up with extreme ideas, but this time, it was too much. Lawrence finally furrowed his brow, wondering if this was a thoughtless, drunken remark, but Holo seemed to see right through him and gave him a sharp poke.

“As always, you are blind.”

“That’s not true. I’m just watching you speak and behave wildly, like you always have,” he replied, and Holo puffed up her chest in competition.

Lawrence took the opportunity to argue.

“What about the bathhouse? Do we close? I doubt it’ll operate without us. And if we close once, guests from far away won’t all come back at the same time. It’ll take a year, at least. How will we earn our keep until then? We’ll have to reestablish our suppliers. You really need to—”

“I believe you need to have a little more faith in all the things you have accomplished.”

The sheer depth of Holo’s smile alone caused Lawrence to fall silent.

“You have made this bathhouse into a wonderful thing. All of the guests are delighted to be here. Though little Col and Myuri are gone, the guests’ opinions have not changed. There is a proper flow here now.”

There was nothing Lawrence could say in response to her proud, beaming grin.

Holo almost never complimented people.

She was spiteful and disagreeable, which meant that was even more so for her companion, Lawrence.

“The guests would not be angry if we left for a year or two. Rather, they would be happy to help us for when we return.”

Lawrence did not believe for a moment that it would be that convenient, but he mulled over the kinds of guests they received.

It was a merchant’s habit to be strictly prudent when regarding optimistic predictions.

But to doubt what Holo said meant doubting his confidence that their guests loved the bathhouse. And it should be the truth that the guests truly did love the place.

Though Lawrence understood this in theory, there was a realistic reason why he had a hard time going along with Holo’s sudden idea.

“B-but I mean…do we leave maintenance of the bathhouse to the drunken guests? Miss Selim will have her hands full doing accounting work without me, and Miss Hanna can’t leave the kitchen. No matter how you think about it, it won’t work out.”

In reality, the utopia of Nyohhira was established by plain old hard work. Lawrence looked at Holo questioningly, wondering if he had spoiled her so much she had forgotten that, but she merely glowered at him in return.

“You fool. ’Tis why I risked my life to see if ’twas possible.”

“Huh?”

She saw how dumbfounded he looked and offered her usual annoyed smile.

“After all, you think I used my wit to place a bet with them, do you not?”

Holo was talking about what happened earlier that day. She and the guests had a drinking contest, and since she won, they had to do all her work for her.

“Th-that’s not—”

What you did! But Lawrence, of course, could not finish his sentence. He realized what her intentions were, and his voice raised almost to a shout.

“No way!”

The wisewolf grinned.

“Though I lay here sleeping, and you gaze upon me lovingly as I do so with such a foolish expression, the work in the bathhouse goes better than usual, does it not?”

Then it was the same as going out to travel together.

He had just seen them work.

Lawrence was at a loss for words, and Holo sighed in exasperation.

“I certainly have done my shopping well. Why do you not think long and hard about what you have gained?”

Holo snuggled him in a different way than before, like a snake entangling its prey.

There were plenty of times lately where Lawrence looked after her.

But Holo was, in the end, Holo.

“We certainly cannot stay away for too long, but they may take our place if we are only gone for half a year. Our reward is free time during the idle season.”

Those guests had come here in defiance of a long journey for the ideal bathhouse.

How could they be so proud of the charm of their establishment if they chose not to believe in that passion?

“You…”

“Hmm?”

She wrapped her arms around Lawrence’s waist, her tail waving back and forth mischievously as she fawned over him.

Lawrence gazed down at her and could do nothing but smile.

“Well, I was just thinking about how I shouldn’t have thought any less of the avatar of the wolf who lives in wheat.”

“Hmm.”

Holo gazed back up at him as though urging him to elaborate.

“You’ve taken good care of me so far. You wouldn’t be if good, healthy stocks didn’t grow, right?”

Holo widened her eyes, then smiled out of the corner of her mouth, baring her teeth.

“You fool.”

He had heard her say those words so many times before.

And he agreed.

No matter how much time they spent together, he would never be able to fully understand how wonderful she was.

“So are you serious?”

Lawrence posed the question, and Holo response came right after.

“Yes. We may as well see our grandchildren’s faces.”

“Wha—!”

Holo grinned when she saw how speechless he was.

She is always like this…The more Lawrence grimaced as he thought, the happier Holo’s tail wagged.

“I am Holo the Wisewolf. You are in the palm of my hand,” she said, despite how she rubbed her face on Lawrence’s chest.

No, that’s exactly why she’s wicked, Lawrence thought as he embraced her slender frame.

Once a wolf such as this stuck to him, he would never be able to let go.

“What a frightening thought.”

Lawrence murmured in defeat and split the log in the fire.

It was autumn, the happiest time in the best season of the year.