Spice and Wolf - Volume 21 - Chapter 3

THE COLORS OF THE FOREST AND WOLF

The cart made its way leisurely down the riverside road.

The forest thinned and the path started to even out. A few days after leaving the hot spring village of Nyohhira, said to be at the edge of the world, it finally felt like Holo and Lawrence were starting to catch glimpses of the mortal world. And yet, they still sometimes found themselves swallowed up by the mountains that reached the very edge of the river, and sometimes their path forced them to venture deep into the forest.

It was autumn, and they were wading through a sea of fallen leaves that came up to their ankles. The crunch of leaves underfoot was satisfying, and the smell of humus was invigorating. The only problem was that the fallen leaves often concealed the correct path, occasionally creating the illusion of a path that could not exist.

The couple almost found themselves lost on these fake roads many times, discounting the woods that they were familiar with. They did actually become lost once, making their way deep into a wood. By the time they realized their error, they were in a place not marked on the map, a scary situation that gave them chills when thinking back on it.

Lawrence, gripping the reins from atop the driver’s perch, might have been a former merchant, but he was no woodcutter who wandered the forests freely.

He would soon fall dead if he got lost on his own and would either wind up as feed for the denizens of the forest or otherwise a nursery bed for mushrooms.

“You fool, that is not the right way.”

Luckily, he had a reassuring partner sitting next to him who sometimes told him which way to turn.

It was a girl with flaxen hair, a color that the autumnal forest suited well. She was combing a pelt of the same color on her lap, but she was not the girl she appeared to be. Wolf ears topped her head and the pelt in her hands was in fact her very own tail.

Sitting beside Lawrence was Holo, the avatar of a wolf who resided in wheat, a being who had lived for hundreds of years and was Lawrence’s dear companion for life.

“I get chills thinking about how I used to travel alone,” Lawrence said as he pulled the reins to turn the horse around and put them back on the correct path. Holo emitted an annoyed sigh.

“That is because the only asset you have to your name is your good fortune.”

The outline of Holo’s fluffy and carefully groomed tail shimmered gold in the autumn sun. And since she always used rose oil to polish the fur, it was as beautiful as anything that could decorate a nobleman’s villa.

“That’s very true. I mean, I met you along the way, didn’t I?”

Lawrence took her by surprise, saying those words in such a casual way. Holo’s eyes immediately shot open before she went back to grooming her tail with a chuckle, but the way her ears flitted about showed that she was not as detached as she would have him believe.

She was crafty, kept plenty of things to herself, and often demonstrated her deep store of wisdom and knowledge of the world—but she also found joy in things as obvious as this.

Lawrence thought about how he could always stay by her side and never grow tired of her company because of things like this.

“We really should’ve taken a boat down.”

They could occasionally see the river from the twisting and turning path. It led all the way up to the hot spring village of Nyohhira, so there was quite a lot of boat traffic on the river. If they were willing to splurge, they could load their cart onto a ship and reach the sea in merely two days while they quietly gazed up at the sky and dozed off.

The reason they did not was simply for frugality’s sake.

And the other reason was because Lawrence felt it would be a waste if they went so quickly.

This was a journey alone with Holo for the first time in years, and he wanted to take his time and enjoy it.

“But man…my back aches…”

Lawrence stood on the spot, still holding the reins, and stretched his back.

While it may be in part because he had not ridden on a cart for a long time, one of the reasons was his age.

“You exert the horse too much. Trust in it more,” Holo scolded him as he stretched, cracked his neck, and sat back down on the driver’s perch.

“Am I really using that much force on it?”

“Aye. ’Tis almost like when I first sat beside you.”

Holo cast him a sidelong glance with an impish smile on her face.

Ten or so years ago, before he traveled with Holo, Lawrence was not used to being around women, so he used to constantly become flustered whenever she teased him.

“But I guess that hasn’t changed much now, either. I’m holding the strings to my coin purse shut as tightly as I can so that none of the coins inside get wasted.”

When he chased his response with a smile, Holo stomped on his foot.

“You fool.”

Holo butted him on the shoulder with her head, and that only made him smile even more.

“Honestly, what am I to do with you…?”

As Holo was about to return to minding her tail as she muttered, her ears suddenly perked up.

“What is it?”

Just as Lawrence was about to turn to her, Holo lightly leaped from the driver’s perch.

His eyes followed her as she walked along the crunching fallen leaves, but then she vanished behind a giant root that reared up from the ground. The moment he thought that his beloved maiden had run off to pick some flowers, she returned.

Her arms were full of large mushrooms that resembled opened umbrellas, and they practically hid her face.

“This forest is open and breezy. Mushrooms are easy pickings here.”

She had been like this for the entire trip, and the cart bed was overflowing with foodstuffs. Lawrence could not help but smile as she leaned over the cart bed to file the mushrooms away into their respective sacks, her tail wagging all the while.

The sky was clear, and the weather was comfortable.

He sincerely thought that the only people who were enjoying such a lovely journey had to be them.

“This is fun.”

The words slipped from his mouth before he could catch them.

Once Holo finished squirreling away the food, her ears and tail stood up straight in a reproving manner. The moment she turned around, though, the tension vanished, leaving her fur soft and relaxed again.

“Mm-hmm.”

Holo took her place on the driver’s perch again and smiled with delight.

When they first left Nyohhira, he had found it difficult to light a simple fire, and later got them lost, which made both of them doubtful about how the rest of their journey would turn out, but it seemed like they could continue to have an enjoyable trip.

As Lawrence took a deep breath, savoring the serene moment, Holo’s tail nestled closer to join him under the blanket covering his lap. There was nothing warmer than carefully tended fur.

Befitting a merchant, Lawrence made the inexpensive wish that this time would last forever. Perhaps that was to blame for what happened next.

Holo spoke slowly.

“Listen, dear.”

“Hmm?”

“I would like to write my memories down so that I will never forget how enjoyable this time is.”

With a smile, Holo snuggled up to Lawrence’s shoulder.

“I have used up all my ink…When might I expect to receive a new batch?”

Whenever she smiled innocently, that usually meant she had ulterior motives.

Holo had been sweetening him up only so she could try to get something from him.

Just like how there was no such thing as a journey that consisted of only good times, there was no journey without its expenses.

Holo was trying to win over Lawrence to buy her more stationery supplies because ever since they embarked on their trip, she had gotten carried away by her good mood and taken advantage of all the free time she had on her hands by writing and then writing some more.

Holo might live for hundreds of years yet, but Lawrence would not. He had suggested for her sake and because of their differing life spans that she should write down what happened every day. That way, she could forever enjoy these blissful days, as long as she wrote so much that she would forget what she wrote at the beginning by the time she reached the end.

Lawrence was not entirely sure if that would truly be a good thing, but Holo, at the very least, had been delighted by the idea. It was even fair to say that she had become obsessed. Ultimately, he was happy to spend money on her paper, pens, and precious ink—which did not come cheap. It wasn’t like he could bring coins with him to the afterlife.

He was satisfied with that line of thought, but at the end of the day, Lawrence was a merchant at heart.

He could not help but recoil at how she had used up all her writing supplies jotting down whatever she pleased in the few, scant days since their journey began.

“Why don’t you peel a bit of bark off a tree and write on that with a nail?”

Holo’s true form was a massive wolf, so she could acquire as much bark as she wanted with a single swipe of her claw.

“You fool, tree bark does not last long.”

“Well…I don’t think we’re going to get any writing material unless we make it out to sea and go all the way up the coast to the port town of Atiph.”

“Do they not have sheep and cows wandering about up there?”

It sounded like she was planning on butchering them with her massive claws, skinning their remains, and fashioning parchment from their hides.

“And we would secure some meat from them as well, so two birds with one stone. No ink, but…Oh well, ’tis the same either way.”

“I’ll tell you up front that I don’t know how to make parchment.”

“How useless.”

Lawrence came incredibly close to saying, Who’s the one who wasted it all? before he swallowed those words. Holo had written a tremendous amount while her tail floated about only because so many fun things had happened.

They had several large hemp sacks full of cargo lying in the cart bed. Alongside the bounty of the autumn woods that Holo had been constantly harvesting on the road, there was one bundle that made a buzzing sound that anyone listening carefully could hear. There had actually been an incident earlier involving some of this bag’s occupants suddenly escaping through gaps in the lining before whizzing around Holo and Lawrence.

In that bag was a massive beehive, one Lawrence had obtained only after enduring several stings to various places on his body.

“Good grief…Well, it’ll take us a little out of the way, but we can make a detour.”

“Oh?”

Lawrence offered a suggestion as he unfolded the map, and Holo’s interest was piqued.

“There’s a branch in the road right here. I think there should be an inn nearby…Yep, there it is. People on their way to Nyohhira stop by there, so I think they might have a store of some paper and ink.”

The guests of honor who patronized the hot spring village of Nyohhira included nobles and royalty, as well as archbishops from cathedrals, abbots from great monasteries that owned massive swathes of land, and more of the same. For this class of people, their job was to write, so it would not be surprising if the inn had all the tools they needed to do so.

“Then, we shall head that way. And what praises they shall receive if they offer hot stew as well.”

Lawrence had thought that Holo had been collecting food on the road because it was her way of showing consideration after using up all her paper and ink, but when he saw her licking her lips over what might be in the stew, it became clear that she was just amusing her appetite.

Either way, as long as she was having fun, then that was enough.

“All right, let’s check it out.”

“Indeed.”

Lawrence watched Holo from the corner of his eye as she agreed with a satisfied nod. He let out a resigned sigh, then diverted the horse from their original westward course to head north.

The inn was not very far away.

It appeared to have once been a gathering place for woodcutters, so as a holdover from that, there was a pile of several logs nearby, left to the moss and rot. The inn’s sign, which resembled an ax, sat above it.

The inn itself was covered in more ivy and moss than the logs were.

“Mm. This is a good inn,” Holo said, sniffing. Since the inn was located deep in the woods and the building itself seemed very old, their first impression was that it was like they had stumbled upon a dwelling for forest spirits.

However, the beams and pillars supporting the eaves were made from lumber that looked freshly cut, the fenced garden had vegetables growing in it, and there were goats and pigs lazily munching on sunny patches of grass.

It was readily apparent that the place was well maintained.

That said, Holo was admiring something else entirely—the scent of bread that wafted from the inn’s chimney.

“Shall we be staying here tonight?”

“If they have any beds open.”

The reason Lawrence gave such a tentative response was not because he was hoping to save on lodging by sleeping in a shed.

He had noticed three magnificent-looking horses tethered to stalls in the stables, as well as several people who were already enjoying some drinks who were most likely the horse guards.

There was a good chance people of considerable status were rooming here.

“Well, I’ll at least ask if we can sleep someplace with a roof.”

“Shall I pretend to be ill?”

“They might let you sit in front of the fire, but I don’t know if you can expect meat and drink like that.”

“Ooooh.”

Lawrence smiled wryly as Holo sincerely fretted over the possibility of no meat or alcohol with an earnest expression. After he found a spot to park the cart, he decided to first open the door to the inn.

“Excuse me, coming in.”

The staff must have been in the middle of preparing dinner because he was immediately greeted by the sweet fragrance of bread. The unmistakable smell of garlic and fat tickled his appetite.

Holo followed in after him, her stomach grumbling loudly.

“Well now, we don’t often see people like you around here. A traveling merchant, is it?”

Someone who appeared to be the innkeeper stood from a table where he had been in the middle of a lively conversation. There were white streaks in his beard, and he looked exactly like the kind of person who would live in the forest.

“No, I—”

Just as Lawrence was about to introduce himself, someone who had been sitting at the same table as the innkeeper spoke up.

“Well, if it isn’t Sir Lawrence!”

Lawrence looked and saw a monastery abbot who had come to stay as a guest at his bathhouse several times.

“What a pleasant surprise, Father Abbot. This must be God’s guidance.”

“What a coincidence. Oh, and your wife.”

When the abbot greeted Holo after noticing her presence, she gracefully nodded—she was always a skilled actor at times like this.

“Sir, this is the owner of Spice and Wolf in Nyohhira.”

“Well, well. Don’t tell me you have plans to open a bathhouse in this area, do you?”

Everyone laughed at the innkeeper’s joke, and after shaking hands with Lawrence, he offered them a seat.

There was a person of rather high standing there who had stayed seated.

“Ah, Sir Lawrence, this is Lord Beavery, ruler of the neighboring land. Lord Beavery, this is Sir Lawrence, owner of a prominent bathhouse in Nyohhira.”

“Ah, a bathhouse. I’ve heard of it. A bathhouse of endless smiles, is it?”

Though he was apparently a neighboring lord, he had no attendants with him, and he readily offered a hand to Lawrence. Lawrence introduced himself, exchanged a handshake, and, after introducing Holo, took the seats they were offered. This Beavery did not seem to be the sort to say too much about his position.

“But, Sir Lawrence, shouldn’t you be busy working to prepare for the winter right about now? Or perhaps you are on your way to pick up an order?”

The question was out of the blue, but there was nothing in particular he needed to hide about Col and Myuri. So as Lawrence relaxed, he announced that they were on their way to see the two, and the abbot gave a deep nod.

“I see. My word, we’ve been hearing about Sir Col’s activities. It feels like hearing about a war hero to us, but I’m sure you must be worried.”

Col had struck out from Nyohhira, saying that he would give his all to reform the Church that had become so deeply corrupted. Their only daughter, Myuri, had gone after him, and by all accounts, the two of them were accomplishing great things.

“Father Abbot, are you on your way to Nyohhira now?”

“Yes. It is because of Sir Col’s influence that things were so dizzying this spring and summer. Things have finally calmed down some, so I decided that I should take a break as soon as the chance presented itself.”

Right now, the owners of churches and monasteries were being forced to reevaluate their assets because of Col’s and Myuri’s influence. They were busy getting piles of permits and property in order to avoid being turned into scapegoats.

“Gosh…I’m sorry Col has been causing you so much trouble.”

“Oh, no, he’s not any trouble at all. This is a fantastic opportunity. It’s hard to get started on a thorough cleaning without some sort of catalyst.”

And as someone who was being asked to help with that cleaning by the clergy who patronized the bathhouse, Lawrence found his cordial smile drawn taut.

As they chatted about this and that, Holo suddenly lightly tugged on his sleeve.

She was asking if they could cut to the chase and request what they had originally come for.

“Oh, that’s right, if I may inquire about something,” Lawrence began. “Would you happen to have any spare writing implements?”

It was not just the abbot but also the innkeeper, who had brought him his drink, who stared at Lawrence blankly.

“Writing implements?”

“We are writing down what we see along the road in order to add to our stock of knowledge, but we have run out of paper and ink. We were hoping that we might borrow some, if you had any left over.”

When Lawrence spoke, the abbot and the innkeeper exchanged glances, then both looked at him in tandem with troubled smiles.

“Well, we were just talking about this very thing.”

“Sorry?”

The abbot cleared his throat.

“Thanks to everything Sir Col has done, all the vaults of the world are in the middle of literally turning themselves inside out right at this moment. And Sir Col is also working on a common-language translation of the scripture so that anyone may read it, yes? That has quite the impact—quills, ink, and everything else fly off the shelves as soon as they arrive.”

There were not many people who could read and write, so there were typically only a limited number of people who needed pens and ink.

“I have also asked around in the towns I’ve stopped in and they’ve been hard to find, leaving any leftover stock at a terribly high price. Lord Beavery here”—the abbot gestured to the lord—“he bought and stockpiled quite a bit last year, so we were just discussing how much he might share with me.”

The word lord evoked an image of someone with a dignified beard and features, but while Beavery did have a magnificent beard, his eyes were serene, which perhaps made him seem somewhat sleepy.

Since he had easily offered his hand in greeting, perhaps he really was a serene man.

“I simply bought them from a minstrel who just happened to stay in my village last year. He said he was marrying a dancing girl he met in Nyohhira and was returning to his hometown. He said that what he needed were no longer pens but ploughs.”

Minstreling and dancing were not jobs that someone could keep up forever. Lawrence had wondered before what people in those professions did once they were done offering bath-side entertainment, and now he knew an example.

That being said, the abbot had been the first to ask about the ink and whatnot that the lord had bought from the minstrel, so Lawrence had no choice but to give up on it. Just as he was thinking about having Holo wait patiently until they got to Atiph, the abbot spoke.

“But, Lord Beavery, it most certainly is God’s will that Sir Lawrence came to the inn looking for ink and paper.”

“What?”

When Lawrence asked that in response, Beavery, the abbot, and the innkeeper all looked to him with a smile.

The innkeeper spoke first.

“Lord Beavery has been searching for help. It is very common that knowledgeable and learned people drop by here, after all.”

“Unfortunately, I am neither, but I think you would be perfect for the job, Sir Lawrence.”

When the abbot spoke, Beavery adjusted himself in his seat and looked straight at Lawrence. It was a display typical of those in power.

“I, Beavery, have devoutly prayed to God here in a land that was once deemed heretical territory. It is a pure stroke of good luck that I have come across you, Sir Lawrence, such a notable and skilled merchant, who has been quietly supporting the Debau Company.”

Lawrence was perplexed, unable to figure out where this was going at all, but Holo beside him was leisurely sipping on her drink, which meant that there was nothing dangerous about the situation.

Lawrence cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and replied:

“How could I possibly be of service to you, my lord?”

Beavery responded quietly. “Could you save my land from its plight? With that keen sense you have for trade?” the bearded, sleepy-looking lord implored and then looked to the abbot beside him. “I would like to present Sir Lawrence with some ink and paper as thanks. Would you mind?”

“Oh, of course not. I am sure that is what God desires as well.”

Beavery nodded and turned back to Lawrence.

“And so that is what I propose. What do you think?”

These were the urgent wishes of a neighboring lord. And since it seemed the shortage of ink and paper was spreading, there was no guarantee they would get any even if they went all the way to Atiph.

His merchant alarm bells were loudly ringing, wondering what sort of thing might be asked of him, but he could also feel silent pressure emanating from Holo. If he said no here, then he would have to be ready to sleep without Holo’s tail for quite a while.

“Very well. I will do all I can to help you.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

Beavery stood, gripping Lawrence’s hand with both of his.

The abbot offered a prayer at the sight, and the innkeeper started to fill the cups for a toast.

Lawrence wore a wary smile fit for a merchant, but the situation still bothered him.

What in the world could a lord who frequented this inn be searching for?

While he felt uneasy, he also was curious.

They wanted his knowledge about trade, so he would draw upon all his past experiences.

“I’d like you to come to my land straightaway. I will treat you to the bounties of my—” The genial Beavery said that much before stopping and looking to the innkeeper. “Would that get in the way of your trade, keeper?”

Beavery seemed serious, but both the innkeeper and the abbot burst into laughter and shook their heads.

It seemed like Beavery was the type of lord who was beloved by many people. Even Holo, who was typically strict in her evaluations of people, seemed to be enjoying herself as she sat beside Lawrence.

“Then let us go before the sun sets. My manor is not far from here.”

When Beavery spoke, Lawrence respectfully lowered his head.

Beavery’s territory was truly not far from the inn. According to what Lawrence heard along the way, the inn was originally a lumber-cutting house that used to belong to the lord’s family.

The trees began to thin out, and just as they reached what looked like a small plain between forests, a pastoral village came into view.

As villagers passed Beavery and his lone horse guard, they greeted him casually.

There was a simple feel to the village with no cows or horses in sight and only a few pack mules milling about, but it seemed like a peaceful and well-governed village.

“Sir Lawrence, there’s a major problem I’d like you to take care of that’s giving the village’s head some trouble.”

That was what Beavery brought up as they made their way down a path that led between wheat fields, both of which had been fully harvested.

“Something that requires my knowledge of trade?”

“Very much so.”

Beavery offered a pleasant smile to a villager passing them on the way home from farmwork before continuing.

“As a matter of fact, none of us, including myself, knows anything about trade, so we don’t know what to do…”

“But this village seems peaceful enough to me. It doesn’t seem like there are any problems.”

Most of the time, simply by stepping foot into a village, it was clear whether the people were deep in debt because they had caught the attentions of a wicked merchant or if they were plagued by heavy taxes under a tyrannical lord.

“Luckily, it’s not something that’s interrupting the villagers’ daily lives, but…that is the very reason why we have not been thinking seriously about it.” Beavery sighed. “Even in remote villages like this, when the currents of the world—or the waves, rather—reach us, people get tossed about. In a similar way, I, too, have started to lose confidence in my way of thinking.”

“What do you mean?”

When Lawrence asked, Beavery spoke with sad eyes, as though revealing shame within his family.

“It’s what we should do with this forest that supports my land and my people.”

“The forest?”

There was a glint in Holo’s eyes, tipsy from drinking wine at the inn.

“Yes. Just as the father abbot said, the world is forging ahead at a hurried pace, and we have been impacted by it. In essence—”

The modest-looking landlord’s home could now be seen, standing at the end of the road before the forest.

“We are arguing over how we might be able to get the greatest return from our forest,” the homely lord said, the expression on his face showing that he was truly at his wit’s end.

The dinner Beavery treated them to that night had the table lined with hare, quail, snipe, and goose.

It was not the large sort of meat meant to be preserved, like beef or pork, but instead the blessings of the mountains meant to be caught fresh every time, and the mere thought of eating something like this in a town would’ve caused gold coins to fly out of Lawrence’s wallet.

Holo was of course absolutely delighted, but Lawrence only felt even greater pressure.

What Beavery told them as they sat around dinner did not sound like something that could be solved simply.

“Phew…I’ve not had meat quite so delicious in such a long time…”

Holo, laying on the bed with her hand on her stomach, swished her tail back and forth, wholly satisfied.

“The meat makes it clear—the forest behind this mansion is of exceptional quality. To think they might lay their hands on it to cut down the wood—it is the height of folly. The bearded one’s point of keeping the trees where they are in the woods is worthy of note.”

Lawrence, who sat on the corner of the bed, looked to Holo when she gave a quiet burp, and then looked back toward the candlelight and sighed.

“You may be right, but…”

“What, you side with the fools?”

Holo’s words were rather stern because they were dealing with the future of a forest.

Even if it was not her own territory, she could not bear the thought of a bountiful forest being brought to ruin.

“I understand how the villagers feel when they say they want to cut down the trees and sell the wood.”

“…Hmm?”

Holo opened one of her eyes to look at Lawrence.

“The war with the pagans ended, trade boomed, and a great many things shot up in price. That’s also the reason why we’ve been so worried about the shortage of small change in Nyohhira.”

Fresh in Lawrence’s mind was the memory of the bathhouse owners, hearing that he and Holo were headed on a trip, all approaching him and asking for help in exchanging their money for petty change.

“Among those, wood is in high demand for boats, carts, crates, and barrels, so it’s jumped up in price. Using this opportunity to cut some wood and make some money isn’t an unwise choice.”

Holo then rolled onto her side, propped her head up, and grumpily thumped her tail against the bed.

“Fool. Doing that would lay waste to such a beautiful forest. Have you forgotten how delicious that meat was?”

“I appreciate that position, too. The reason the village has been able to preserve such a relaxing atmosphere is probably thanks to how rich the forest is.”

“Mm. So you do understand.”

Holo seemed proud, as though she had been praised; she was probably a little drunk.

“Beavery seems like an understanding and good-natured lord. He said he has been generously allowing the villagers to gather mushrooms, honey, and even wild oats and rye from the forest. So even if the harvest fails, they never have to worry about food.”

“Aye. ’Tis not a bad thing…”

Holo spoke with half-lidded eyes. It was probably because she had just eaten and drank her fill, but she was also likely tired from being on the road for the first time in quite a while.

“But that being said, they can’t make a living without silver. The village needs to make money in order to purchase goods they can’t produce on their own.”

“Mm-hmm…But to cut down and sell the trees? What a daft plan…”

Holo’s head dropped from the support she was giving it.

She would soon go straight to curling herself up, so Lawrence stood with a sigh and began to remove the robe she still had on.

“Rrrgh…I do not mind sleeping like this…”

“Yes you do. You’ll damage the fabric.”

“Fool…”

Holo’s movements grew more sluggish as she spoke. It amazed him that she could act like this on one hand and on the other, insist that she was the wisewolf, a great being once worshipped as a god.

After he peeled the robe from her, he removed the pouch of wheat from around her neck and placed it by the pillow.

By then, she was already in the world of dreams, snoring softly.

“Really, what a handful.” Lawrence sighed, folded the robe, and then walked over to the window.

The nighttime autumn wind was a little cold on his skin, and the forest harbored a deep darkness despite the moonlight cast upon it.

“Cut trees will still grow back…so it’d be best to sell them at a high price while they can, huh?”

There were more than a handful of villagers who thought that way.

However, Beavery, who had managed this land for generations, was afraid that laying waste to the forest for such an impulsive leap would mean that they would no longer be able to rely on the blessings of the forest as they always had.

Even if that was a sort of religious view of the forest, it was not entirely groundless.

Even mushrooms would stop growing after a few years if uprooted entirely to sate greed. By cutting down the trees, the direction of the air currents would change, the flow of water would change, the plants would change, and so would the habitats of animals like the birds and the bees.

And it would take more than a generation before the trees would begin to grow back.

In the end, there was ample reason to be cautious over whether they should take this shortcut.

But what if the value of lumber went down as they hemmed and hawed, only for the village to find itself beset by crop failure, or fire, or any other disaster that required a large amount of money?

He could imagine they would start quarrelling over how they should have sold the lumber earlier.

The landlord, Beavery, wanted to lessen the villagers’ troubles while also preserving the lush forest for the future and putting some money on reserve for his territory.

Then what were they supposed to do?

Lawrence had been staring into the distance toward the nighttime forest, but he finally sighed and shut the window.

This was not a problem that would unravel itself after a bit of thinking. He would have to hear what the villagers had to say and, depending on the situation, even talk to the village chief or the community leaders directly.

Ultimately, Lawrence would say that this was more than a simple commerce issue, seeing as how it was a problem that had more to do with governance: accurately grasping the people’s desires to find a point of compromise that would satisfy everyone. The very person who would be a great help at a time like this was Holo the Wisewolf.

As Lawrence thought about all that, he crossed his arms with a sigh to himself.

Holo was curled up and clinging to the blanket, snoring quietly.

“So this is why they call you the Great Wisewolf.”

When he saw her peaceful sleeping face under the blanket, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile.

After giving her a kiss on the cheek, he blew out the candle and crawled under the blanket himself.

For now, he would put everything aside for tomorrow.

Sleep came to him in an instant.

It was not as laudable as thanks for the meat they were treated to the night before or anything like that. Rather, it was the indignation that the abundant forest might be brought to ruin that spurred Holo into taking enthusiastic action.

“Hey, Holo…wait!”

Both Lawrence and, unusually, Holo woke up early to see the forest for themselves, but on the way there, Lawrence complained about Holo’s quick pace.

“What, did you drink too much last night?”

How someone walked was apparently more important than their strength or stamina when it came to trekking through the wilderness.

Holo’s gait was literally that of a wolf, and she practically flew across the ground. It was too much for Lawrence, who had settled down as a bathhouse owner, to keep up with.

“But you…cough, cough…Why are you getting so worked up?”

Lawrence’s breath caught, so he drank the cool water from his waterskin, and Holo looked back with her glinting red eyes.

“I am not getting worked up. I simply think that those who would dare to ruin a forest like this are irredeemably foolish!”

It would be useless pointing out that was exactly what being angry meant.

Lawrence sighed and took the wooden board he had under his arm in his hand. There was a layer of wax on it meant for writing with a pointed wooden pen.

On it were the detailed notes of how the villagers felt about the forest.

“Either way, the Beavery forest really does seem to go on forever. Here we have, um…the place where they harvest wild grains.”

Even rye and oats could be found in the forest. They were not as high quality as properly farmed crops, but they could be useful for adding to the brewing process of ale or as feed for the pack animals.

“Mm. It has been moderately opened up so it has good sunlight, and since ’tis on a hill, the drainage is good. I could chase away the deer and the boars and promise to take care of the farming for a thousand years.”

Holo was the avatar of a wolf who resided in wheat, so that was very likely true.

“Some think that cutting the trees down here might not have too much of an impact.”

Lawrence thought that by widening the land, the villagers could expand their fields even more.

“Hmph, they truly are fools.” Holo, however, whirled around to look at this clearing in the woods as she spoke, almost like she had brushed away that line of thought with her tail. “Go ahead—cut down the trees around here. The wind will come with days of bad weather and mow down all the budding ears of wheat. Then, the only things that will thrive will be the short and needlessly fat, and those shoots will go on to barely produce anything. In a few years’ time, there will be nothing but thorny grasses that cannot be boiled or fried.”

Holo had lived for centuries in the wheat fields of a village, and before that, she had reigned over a region called Yoitsu, which was deeper into the mountains than even Nyohhira. There was no doubt that she had watched forests change for a span of time he could scarcely even imagine.

“I see. A long time ago, the people in a village I visited for trade were complaining about suddenly losing the blessings of the forest. I guess that’s what that means.”

“Aye. ’Tis a given for them, so ’tis not that I do not understand how they think: that their good fortune will persist no matter what they do. But the forest is more sensitive than the scales you trifle with.”

Holo crouched, took a piece of straw that had been left on the ground, and aimlessly flung it around like a child.

“Where to next?”

“A place east of here…Hmm?”

As Lawrence read out the notes of what he heard from the villagers, he raised his voice in surprise.

“What is it?”

“Well.” Lawrence turned the board to Holo. “It’s a caution for bees.”

There was still a hint of redness where he had been stung while harvesting a beehive.

He was rubbing an ointment kneaded from pig’s fat over it, and Holo, who was rubbing it over the places he could not reach, of course knew Lawrence’s pain.

But standing there was a gluttonous wolf.

“Do you mean we should take advantage of this opportunity?”

“No! I’m not collecting any more hives!”

If he did not refuse outright, then he would gradually be coaxed into harvesting another beehive.

Holo chuckled, bit into the straw she held in her hand, and pointed east.

“Then we shall head that way.”

Seeing how chipper Holo was made Lawrence feel tired for some reason as he followed after her.

Holo thankfully tread carefully down the path that descended the slight hill. She informed him about holes that were hidden by fallen leaves that made the ground look stable, gauged the direction of the wind, then found them an easy detour.

The forest grew denser and denser, and the air grew heavier and more damp.

There were plenty of evergreens here, and they blocked out the sun.

The occasional outburst of noise and the sound of snapping twigs were likely birds he could not see or squirrels and mice that just barely hid from view.

Plenty of acorns and other seeds were scattered around their feet, and a pig would surely grow fat in an instant if they let one roam around here.

“The farther in we walk, the better this forest becomes,” Holo said with a sigh of admiration, and Lawrence agreed with a nod. “This explains why those in the village do not attend to their fieldwork too diligently,” she added.

“Hmm…It didn’t really seem like the fields in the village were in that sorry a state, though. Is that really the case?”

“They do not think much of it. After all, the villagers can find all the food they want simply by wandering in the forest, so of course ’tis inevitable. Well, because of that, I am even more confounded as to why they quibble over how to deal with the forest. Losing this would put so many in dire straits.”

Holo spoke as she followed a squirrel running atop a tree branch, and Lawrence responded.

“That’s because the blessings of the forest aren’t equal to everyone.”

“Hmm?”

Holo, who had switched from straw to a stick, smacked at a tree root, perhaps because she was bored, as she turned back to Lawrence.

When he crouched down, he found some herbs that were useful in relieving fever, and since Beavery had told them they could take what they wanted from the woods, he readily gathered some.

“Herbs like this, mushrooms, and nuts are useful to everyone. But human activity is complicated.”

Holo said nothing, but her eyes told him to continue.

As Lawrence walked beside her, he spoke.

“The blessings of the forest might be bountiful, but there are only so many things that can be changed into coins.”

“Honey and such?”

“Yeah. I think that’s the best example of food. You can sell ale and cider depending on what’s available, but if the water in the area isn’t any good, then they won’t even consider it. And when you’re so far away from civilization like this, shipping will cost time and money. Liquids are heavy, so transporting the freight will be the costliest part of the process. If the taste isn’t truly excellent, then it’ll barely stand a chance at the market.”

Holo wore a pensive expression, perhaps because she was recalling her mercantile journey with Lawrence.

“Also, they could bring sheep and pigs from town to let them graze here, but distance is still the main problem at the end of the day.”

Something happened right as he was speaking about that.

Holo suddenly stretched out her neck and looked deeper into the forest.

“What is it?”

“…The smell of coal.”

For a moment, he was worried it might be a wildfire, but Holo did not seem flustered. And he realized right away what was causing it.

“It’s traces of the roasting that makes charcoal.”

There was a small mound of dirt.

To make charcoal, firewood was usually piled together with wet leaves on the ground, then set on fire. This pile would be covered by dirt, leaving only a vent or pipe open in the middle to let the air through. After that, all they needed to do was to let it sit for a night or two.

“Everyone needs coal, but there are people who need it more than others.”

“…A butcher, perhaps?”

Lawrence could not help but snort in amusement, which earned a glare from Holo.

“Sorry, sorry. Meat slowly grilled over coal is delicious.”

Holo looked away in a huff and then dug up the remains of the charcoal mound with her stick.

“The people who use coal the most are blacksmiths.”

“Ahhh…Those who constantly burn fuel in the woods, making metallic noises, no?”

“Those are probably much larger smithies. But yeah, something like that.”

“So are they the ones asking for trees to be cut down?”

Holo’s eyes turned to the wooden board he had in hand.

“Sometimes. Especially considering how expensive fuel is now, it makes sense that metal goods are also going up in price. With a forest as fertile as this, they might think of it as a good chance to get rich.”

“How miserly.”

“Don’t let opportunity slip by, they say.”

Holo huffed and then sighed.

“Generally, like I said before, it’s hard to turn all the blessings the villagers are so lucky to receive from the forest into money. But that doesn’t mean that those blessings can be shared with everybody.”

The biggest moneymakers would be the woodcutters who would be the ones chopping down the trees and the cargo handlers who would carry the lumber. Next in line would be the charcoal burners and the blacksmiths. Of course, not all of them would be able to pocket their profits. They would naturally have to pay taxes to Beavery, and that would go into the village’s savings.

But that would soon give birth to a pride that belonged only to those who had earned the village a great deal of money in the first place, and a distinct pecking order would come into existence.

Though they did not engage in moneymaking businesses, the hunters and gatherers who brought much-appreciated variety to the villagers’ dinner tables and those who sweated in the fields would certainly not find that very amusing. What Beavery feared more than the devastation of the forest was unrest in the village.

“There has to be an easier way to make money.”

“Mm.” Holo closed her eyes, as though listening closely to her surroundings, then spoke. “Indeed. What about furs?”

Holo was the embodiment of a wolf, and occasionally wolf furs lined the stalls at the market. It was a delicate subject, but Holo was the one who had brought it up, so he had to answer.

“Furs are one of the very few things that can be exchanged for money, but…most of the hunters agree with cutting down the trees.”

Holo furrowed her brow.

“It’d be easier for them to chase their prey, so they want the trees gone.”

“…”

Holo dropped her shoulders in astonishment and whacked a tree trunk with the stick she held.

“Humans are nothing but fools.”

“But the furriers are against cutting down the trees, so I guess they just balance each other out.”

“…Hmm?”

Holo seemed perplexed. She likely did not understand why the furriers would be opposed to it.

The more animals the hunters hunted, the more work the furriers got.

Lawrence explained the workings of the human world to her.

“You need to tan hides and fur, right? So they need a place deep in the woods for that. That’s why…Oh, right. I guess that’s what they mean by beware of bees.”

When he looked at the trees growing around them, he realized something.

“Oh, well. I guess it’s not the kind of bees that you want to see.”

“Blech…The kind that swarm over cows?”

She was talking about the bloodsucking botfly. It seemed like it was only the insects that escaped the control of the wolves, the kings of the forest. Holo wore an expression of disgust.

“No, the kind that swarm trees.”

“’Tis…not that? Bees that collect syrup? Those are everywhere.”

The beehive they had acquired not too long ago was also a collection of nectar from trees full of sap.

But insects used trees in various ways.

“The kind that build their homes inside the trees. Haven’t you seen the weird seeds growing on the trees?”

Holo looked at him blankly, then nodded vaguely.

“Aye…occasionally. The kind that grow directly from the tree branches, no? But to call those ‘seeds’…they are odd gnarls in the wood. They are not meant for eating.”

She stuck out her tongue and scrunched up her face; maybe she had eaten one before.

“Those grow because that’s where the bees lay their eggs. It’s a cradle, you could say.”

Holo, who was so disgusted by insects parasitically devouring other insects that it made her cry, went pale as she learned that fact. But since she also sang praises about how delicious bee larva was, her curiosity seemed to win out.

“And? What does that have to do with furs?”

“Plenty. Furriers cut off those knobs, steep them in water, and boil the stuff, then tan the hides with the resulting liquid.”

“Ohhh. And so…I see. A stack of furs is wonderful but not without any material to tan it with.”

“Exactly. And fur is one of the few goods that can be readily sold for cash. It’s the greatest influence in this village when it comes to saving the forest.”

Holo nodded and looked at him as though they had finally seen the light, but she then seemed to notice something.

“But, dear, between the furs and the lumber, which will produce the most money?”

He expected nothing less from the wisewolf—no, from the wife of a former merchant.

“Definitely the lumber, without a doubt.”

Holo huffed, disappointed, and tossed away her stick.

Then, as she looked around her, she folded her arms almost like she was the ruler of the forest. Even she understood that the promise of gaining a bigger profit held more weight.

“But like I said this morning, we need your wisdom.”

They had come into the forest with the ray of hope that they might find something of monetary value rivaling lumber that could support the furriers’ position, but it was not going so well.

Just as Lawrence knew the ins and outs of a market, the villagers here had been living alongside this forest ever since they were born. It would have been arrogant to think that he alone might notice something that they had not.

“Hmm…I can speak to the merits of keeping the forest whole and the ill effects that would come from knocking down the trees…”

“That, or we could peel away a layer off you.”

When Lawrence said that, Holo pouted and her ears and tail swayed in discontent.

“’Tis this current form of mine that has no layers to peel back.”

“Then, maybe it’d be more accurate to say that we should put another layer of fur on you?”

Holo’s true identity was that of a massive, towering wolf. If the villagers caught a glimpse of her enormous shadow and heard her howling at the moon, the king of the dark forests might be able to strike some fear into them.

If they feared her anger, then it was possible they might also refrain from touching the trees in the forest.

“…But I shall be troubled if a weak little girl or some other gets sent into the forest. I cannot always come here to this wood.”

For people who were aware of the old ways that had long existed before the Church’s teachings spread, it was a given what they should do when confronted with the wrath of not just the king of the forest but also the spirits that inhabited the mountains and springs. Lawrence could already imagine Holo in her wolf form, flustered by a sobbing girl who had been offered as a human sacrifice. He found the image kind of comical, but he couldn’t laugh. Moreover, if the people came to fear the forest and no longer went in it, then that would just create an even bigger problem. They would be getting their priorities mixed up if they created a situation where no one dared touch the blessings of the forest in order to preserve it.

“Eloquence is rather your specialty, is it not?”

He didn’t want to hear that from Holo, who begged for food using all sorts of tricks, and apparently, it showed on his face.

Holo approached him, very deliberately stepped on his foot, then walked a few paces away and crossed her arms.

“’Tis your specialty, is it not?”

“Yes, it is,” he responded with a sigh as he groaned.

“Mmmm…It just comes down to money, doesn’t it…? I can’t believe it’s such a rich forest, and none of it is worth any money…”

The villagers in Beavery’s territory had also likely heard the rumors, but if anyone headed south down the river, they would easily see the current state of the world for themselves. Everywhere, trade was erupting, and all the lumber that people needed to fuel their businesses was being sent down the river. It would be more unusual to not think about taking part and sharing in those gains.

Lawrence personally thought that it would be fine if they ruined a small part of the forest, cutting down some trees to earn some money.

The reason he did not say that out loud was for Holo’s sake.

She had a short temper whenever it came to the woods, and the greater reason he offered to help Beavery in the first place was to get a small share of ink and paper so she could continue to write about their journey.

And of course, the ever-shrewd Holo had not forgotten that.

The wind blew through the trees, and after spending a moment staring up at the swaying canopy hanging above them, Holo spoke.

“I cannot fight against large currents, either. If the human world wishes for shiny coins, then I cannot go against them.”

“Holo?”

“And one requires silver and gold to write, no? In that case, I cannot think it right to stand in the way of villagers who wish to make some money. They have things they want, just as I do.”

Naturally, the people of the village were not intending to sell lumber so they could buy luxuries. They simply did not want to miss the good opportunity to gain some valuable coins.

If the village built up their savings, then they could have the option of leaving the village during a crop failure to buy produce in a nearby town, and they could secure the metal tools they needed for their forest and farmwork. Or perhaps they could set up a new water mill at the creek nearby. Money directly improved these people’s lives and made them richer.

Just as the scripture said that people could not live on bread alone, the villagers could not cover everything with the blessings of the earth alone.

Holo stood limply by the charcoal-burning remains, as though she, too, had been burned to ashes.

“I thought I had given up on protecting the forests such a long, long time ago,” Holo said with a bitter smile and came to Lawrence’s side.

Instead of stomping on his foot, she grasped his hand.

“Just as you found it difficult to start a fire and now grip the reins too tightly after setting off on your first journey in years, I, too, have steeped in the baths for too long and have forgotten about the ways of the world.”

Sometimes, one simply had to pretend to look away when the world did not turn out as one hoped.

Both Lawrence, who had walked the path of a merchant, and Holo, who had no choice but to stand by and watch as the times changed, were keenly aware of this.

Lawrence gripped Holo’s small hand in return, leaned over, and kissed the base of her wolf ears.

“At the very least, Beavery is a kind lord. He probably won’t go overboard as the ruler of this land.”

“…Mm.”

Holo nodded, and like a clingy cat, she pressed her face into his chest.

The wishes of Holo and Lord Beavery, who both prayed for the peace of the forest, could not come true.

Lord Beavery was a compassionate man—if Lawrence apologized perfectly and presented him with that massive beehive as an apology, then he might still share some ink and paper.

When his train of thought got that far, inspiration struck him.

“Right. If we took the ink and paper from Lord Beavery, we could sell it at a high price for him, and that might help.”

Either way, there were not many people who could read and write in such a remote country town.

If it was all just going to rot away, unused, then they should have at least thought about exchanging it for money.

To make up for failing in the request he so readily accepted, it might be better if Lawrence could turn that into silver.

When he explained all that, Holo smiled wryly.

“Even if you fell over, you would not get up for free.”

“I am a merchant, after all,” he said in a joking manner, and Holo chuckled, then sighed.

“Then first, we must go to apologize, yes? We may not be having any delicious meat tonight.”

“Could you write down your memories of our trip on some tree bark for now, like on this board? We’ll buy some paper and ink when we get the chance.”

“Mm. Or would that charcoal there be of any use?”

When Holo said that, Lawrence looked to the remains.

“Charcoal alone would blur immediately. I’ve seen it being used as a substitute for ink by mixing it with glue, but in order to make glue, you need to boil bones and animal tendons for a long time. And then you also need trees from the forest…or something like that.”

“Well, ’tis no help at all!”

Lawrence could not help but smile at Holo’s deliberate yell.

“But, dear,” she said. “Then how is the ink I always use made?”

“Hmm? Well, you boil these nubs from trees that are shaped like seeds called gallnuts. These nubs are also used to tan hide…Huh?”

“Oh?”

Both Holo and Lawrence looked at each other.

“Dear,” Holo said, and a taut smile crossed Lawrence’s face.

“…The knowledge might be in my head, but I can’t always take it out at will.”

“Much like your purse.”

They’re not the same, is what he wanted to say, but he could not help but smile when he saw Holo’s eyes glittering with anticipation and her tail swishing back and forth.

“The villagers probably haven’t noticed the possibility, either.”

The only one who could read and write was the landowner Beavery. Or perhaps Beavery himself could not even do it. It was a common thing for places far away from towns, so there was not much they could do if the idea had not been in their heads to begin with.

“They said that ink had gotten rather expensive because of little Col and Myuri, no?”

“Yeah. And you need a dense forest in order to guarantee a lot of gnarls on the trees.”

“Dear.” Holo grinned.

The world was occasionally like this, too.

“This idea will protect the forest while still being useful to the villagers at the same time. If they can produce a lot of the expensive ink, then they can make more money for a much longer time than from lumber, which stops being useful once the tree’s cut.”

“And it means ink for me!”

Lawrence left the forest side by side with Holo, told Beavery of the sequence of events and how to make ink and its price range. Ink was an excellent product where a small amount brought in a large sum of money; unlike alcohol, they could expect plenty of profit even after taking it to faraway places, and even children could gather and process the gallnuts. It was hard to differentiate between the people who could and could not contribute to earning money, so they could avoid the creation of an odd discord within the village.

“I expected nothing less from the renowned Sir Lawrence!”

Beavery treated him with excessive acclaim and lined their dinner table that night with another fabulous meal.

Holo wrote down right away what they had to eat that day with the ink Beavery gave her, and when Lawrence peeked at her writing as she dozed off in her seat from all the alcohol, he saw his name and the sentence, The fool is sometimes of use.

“You can leave the fool part out.”

Lawrence smiled wryly, scooping Holo up from where she dozed in her chair, and carried her to bed.

Once he put the eternal princess to bed, he returned to the moonlit bundles of paper.

These would be filled with even more words in the future.

Sometimes the stories would be exciting and sometimes not so exciting.

“But they’ll all be good memories,” Lawrence murmured as he placed his hand on the window.

He closed it, just as though he was closing a book.

That was only one scene of their long, long journey.