Spice and Wolf - Volume 21 - Chapter 4

THE EGGS OF A JOURNEY AND WOLF

The breeze that day was slightly chilly.

It had been almost two weeks since they left behind the hot spring village of Nyohhira to go on their trip. Since it had been over ten years since the former merchant Lawrence had last traveled, he stumbled a bit at the beginning, but he had finally gotten his traveling senses back.

The winding mountain roads had come to an end, leaving them on a road that crossed a flat plain with nothing to obstruct their view, and they were fully enjoying the mundanity of travel.

“Yaaaaaawn.”

But the source of that massive yawn was not Lawrence. Behind him was Holo, his partner, lying across a pile of blankets in the cart bed. She had been enjoying some elegant sunbathing the whole day.

“Dear, are we…yaaawn…there yet…?”

The air was chilly, suggestive of autumn, but the sunshine on the fields around them still carried hints of summer.

Nothing could compare to how nice it felt to have the cool breeze caress his cheek after sweating slightly from the sun.

Holo, who would take naps whenever she had the chance even in Nyohhira, was relaxing as she pleased.

But today, she was especially lax, rolling about on her blankets like a house pet.

The reason for that could be found in the barrel she held.

She had scooped out some honey from the beehive they just so happened to get in the forest a few days ago and had added it to her wine. She then placed the cask under the blankets, and after a few days, her ready-to-drink mead was complete.

She had woken up rather early today and quickly undid the stopper on the cask she had put away. Once she grew tipsy enough after lapping up some of the mead, she would doze off, then lap up some more once she woke, repeating that over and over.

It was the height of luxury.

“Almost. Once we merge with the highway, there will be more people passing us. Be careful.”

“Fool…I am not that much of…a…”

The rest of her sentence vanished in her mumbles. Lawrence glanced over his shoulder to see Holo had fallen asleep faceup, mouth half-open.

Holo looked like a girl of fourteen or fifteen if she kept her mouth shut, but this slovenly attitude also suited her. It was almost poetic how her flaxen-colored hair glittered in the sunlight and her bangs rustled softly in the wind.

But if that were all, then they would have had no reason to mind the gazes of others. She would have simply been an energetic girl enjoying her travels.

The problem was that unfortunately, Holo was not just any girl.

It was not only her beautiful flaxen hair that shone in the sun and danced in the wind. She had large, triangular wolf ears on her head and a tail with thick fur and a beautiful lay grew from her rear.

Holo was the avatar of a wolf who resided in wheat, whose true form was massive, and who would live in dignity for centuries.

At least…that was what she called herself.

“Good grief…”

Lawrence sighed when he saw her innocent sleeping face, but he could not help a corner of his mouth raising in a smile.

She called herself the wisewolf, and her wisdom and insight were truly impressive, but when she acted silly like this, he grew weak.

“What a handful.”

He mumbled to himself with a wry smile, and he was not sure exactly who that was meant for.

Lawrence shrugged, and when he took a piece of jerky from the small linen bag beside him and placed it in his mouth, his eyes dropped to the bundle of paper spread open below it. The pages were jam-packed with writing about their daily occurrences, written by Holo, who was snoozing in the back, who worked hard every day to pen everything.

Since Holo would live for an eternity, no matter how hard he tried, Lawrence would end up leaving his beloved wife behind in this world. That was why Lawrence had suggested she write down as many things as she could—enough for her to forget the beginning by the time she had finished reading it to the end—for when that sad moment finally came.

Holo had eagerly taken on the project since then, and of course Lawrence should have been happy about that, but there was a hard point to settle.

Holo had evidently come to enjoy writing on its own, so she grew pleased with writing about imaginary days that never happened. It was like the hobby of a dreamy noble girl who lived in a monastery, and when she did things like that, she used up her stationery in an instant.

Not too long ago, she had run out of ink and paper. Luckily, at the time, there was a lord they had just so happened to meet who was generous enough to share some with them. Lawrence could not even begin to guess how much she was going to make him buy down the road.

While he was willing to do anything he could for her, at his core, Lawrence was a merchant. He could not help but look at a huge stack of papers and immediately think of the equivalent stack of silver coins.

But he also understood how Holo felt as she scribbled away. Memories were hazy things, and no matter how many words she used to put something on paper, it was impossible to record exactly how pleasant an afternoon nap was in its entirety.

Lawrence wanted to let her do as she pleased so she could at least gather some of those fragments together.

In the end, Holo would be left alone in the flow of time.

When he thought of that, Lawrence found another murmur slipping from his lips.

“There has to be a better way.”

He meant that both in the way of being able to collect more memories but also in an economical sense.

As he contemplated all that, he saw a notice board standing at the end of the flat road.

It was a signpost that marked its intersection with the highway, and it also meant they were close to their destination.

Commotion would erupt if people saw Holo’s ears and tail.

Lawrence turned around to face the cart bed to wake the sleeping princess.

“Hey, Ho—”

“Town?!”

Lawrence flew back in surprise when Holo energetically leaped up; the horse, feeling its reins pulled, whinnied in discontent.

Holo, however, paid no mind in the slightest and pulled the hood on her robe up, and then she leaped from the cart to the driver’s perch.

There had been no time to put away the pouch that sat next to Lawrence. Holo snatched it up, and the jerky found its way into her mouth.

“’Tis been quite a while since our last big town. We must eat as much delicious food as we can!”

Only a few days had passed since they feasted on the mountain’s bounty at a long banquet table while visiting a lord’s manor, and she had been drinking her fresh, luxurious mead all day, but…he knew no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change a thing.

And when he saw how merry she was, Lawrence lost the will to be cross with her.

Lawrence smiled with a sigh, readjusted himself on the driver’s perch, and gripped the reins.

He could not control the heartless flow of time.

That was why, at the very least, he would carefully drive the cart for the one he loved.

They headed straight west from the mountain hot spring village of Nyohhira and followed the river downstream.

At the end of their path would be the port town of Atiph, home to a cathedral and an archbishop and large enough to be considered the biggest town in the area.

It was a historic place that had once been the front line in the war with the pagans, and it also acted as a gatekeeper so that pirates from the northern islands could not attack the heart of the continent.

Holdovers from that past were still visible as the massive spires rising high above both sides of the river could be seen throughout the town. Strung between them was a huge chain that would drop into the river at times of emergency to stop pirate ships from going upstream.

After passing through inspection at the city walls, Lawrence explained all that, but Holo’s attention was stolen by the food in the stalls as she gave vague responses.

“Maybe you’d listen to me if I put that chain around your neck.”

Holo’s true form was a massive, towering wolf, so perhaps chains that big would be the perfect size. Lawrence muttered that as he thought about it, and Holo, who would not miss a comment like that, stomped on the top of his foot.

“So what sort of special dishes may we find here?”

“Sheesh…,” Lawrence responded as he rubbed his foot. “Fish, of course. This place is crammed to the brim with fresh raw fish. Especially at this time of year, now that it’s starting to get cold, all the fish are super fatty and delicious. All the salt-grilled, deep-fried, and boiled fish would be good, too.”

“Fiiish?”

Holo said it with a slight objection, almost as though she wanted to say that wolves and fish did not go together.

“You can’t just say you don’t like it. Oh yeah, there’s been word about an interesting trade here in this town regarding herring. Do you want to go see?”

“No. I shan’t look at cured herring ever again.”

For people living in the deep mountains—catches from local rivers aside—the fish people would commonly find on their tables would be, without question, cured salted herring. Herring were so abundant that it was often said that sticking a sword in the sea would be more than enough to catch a whole cluster of them, so even those living in the deepest of mountain regions could get them cheaply.

It was a precious fish that supported a great many people throughout the world, but because of that, everyone grew bored of it.

“Herring is pretty good when it’s not cured.”

“…This is how you are scheming to fill my belly with cheap fish, I see,” Holo said, looking at him with suspicion.

She grew greedy when it came to food, so Lawrence could do nothing but shrug.

That being said, herring was still cheaper than any sort of meat.

Lawrence cleared his throat.

“Let’s say you prepare plenty of oil in a pot.”

“…Hmm?”

“First you put the heat on low, and then you put in a gutted fish, head and all. Then it should start making a slight fizzing noise.”

Holo looked at him doubtfully, wondering what he was talking about, but Lawrence paid her no mind and continued speaking.

“Just as you can tell that it’s finally starting to cook through, you add more firewood into the fire. The oil will get hotter and hotter, and then it’ll start making a really pleasant sizzling sound.”

Holo was completely enraptured by Lawrence’s story, and she audibly gulped.

“When you fry it until it’s crisp and crunchy, you can eat it to the bone. You then scoop it from the oil and sprinkle some salt over it just as it starts to burst open…”

He mimed sprinkling salt with his fingers, and Holo’s gaze darted to them, like a cat being offered a treat.

“Then you bite into the head.”

Holo’s tail sprang up, almost enough to lift the hem of her clothes.

“There’s no greater enjoyment than tasting the sweet oil dripping down your lips along with the rock salt and then washing it down with some cool ale…Ow, ow!”

“We must go right now. Herring, yes? They are in peak season now, are they not?!”

Holo had a tight grip on his muscles through his clothes, and he somehow managed to peel her off.

It seemed like his strategy of filling her up with cheap herring was working, but it was working a little too well.

“Before we do that, we need to head to the Debau Company to confirm our destination and reserve a boat. The seasons are changing now, so the hold will be stuffed full of merchant and material transport. We’ll have to wait until winter if we don’t hurry.”

Unlike his time as a traveling merchant, Lawrence and Holo now had a place to return to. Their hot spring in Nyohhira was currently in the hands of someone else, so they could not take too leisurely of a trip.

And so, even though he had not said that out of spite, Lawrence found himself cut off in the middle of speaking.

Holo’s eyes were swimming as she bit her lower lip.

“…Fine, fine. I’ll go on ahead to the company, so you take this and buy as much as you want.”

What he handed her after he spoke was a silver of not terribly great quality that he had scooped out from his wallet after a moment of hesitation. When they had just met, he had given her a silver trenni, which was as close to pure silver as coins could get, and she ended up purchasing all the apples she could.

The word frugality seemed to fly out the window in the face of good food.

But just as Holo took the silver with sparkling eyes, she gave Lawrence a beaming smile; even though he knew that was her weapon, it shot him right in the heart.

This was all he could say to vent his chagrin:

“My share is included in that silver, okay?”

“I know, fool.”

She was already searching for the food stalls when she responded. She wore a thick skirt to hide her tail, but it was wagging so much that it was almost moving her skirt.

“Oh boy…”

Holo looked like she would dash off the moment she spotted her prey, so he was about to add where they should meet when—

“Hmm?”

Holo, who had been licking her lips, suddenly stuck out her neck.

“What is it?”

“Mm.”

Her ears moved tightly under her hood, and without turning her head, she brought her hand over to pull on Lawrence’s sleeve.

“Behind you, on the other side of the street.”

Holo was the embodiment of a wolf, and wolves were the kings of the forest. Even among the busiest of crowds, or even when her heart was stolen away by fried fish, she was always on her guard.

“…Do you think this means trouble?”

The cart was filled with cargo, and the street was crowded.

Even if they did not lose everything to a pickpocket or a holdup, they would not escape unscathed.

Those traveling with women were especially easy targets.

“They do not carry weapons, but…they are the same sort we often see in our baths.”

“Priests? Wait, don’t tell me you—”

When he said that, Holo’s expression became a clearly guilty one.

“Perhaps I drank too much mead…”

Holo was the embodiment of a wolf, which made her a nonhuman with wolf ears and a tail. The Church considered those like her to be possessed by demons, beings that should not exist in this world.

She had been getting drunk off mead all day long, and coupled with how she had been letting her guard down on her first trip in a while, someone might have seen her ears and tail along the way.

Holo bit on the nail of her thumb, gripped the silver Lawrence gave her, then spoke.

“It is what it is. They will be after me either way, so my only choice is to run. You prepare the boat and head south as planned. Should I run along the coast, we will likely meet up at some town along the way.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Please.”

The reason Holo was called the wisewolf was because she could promptly choose the correct option in a time of crisis. He could not count the number of times her quick wit had saved him.

Yet, even though Lawrence understood that Holo’s assessment was absolutely correct, he hesitated because he hated the thought of being without her.

She would only become annoyed if he said that, of course, and he knew that a reunion after being separated would not be an awful thing.

“Don’t drink away that silver.”

“You fool,” Holo said with a smile and then leaped from the driver’s perch on the cart. Just as she did so, the small group of people whispering among themselves on the other side of the street started to part the crowd and make their way toward them. Some were dressed in clerical robes, some were well-dressed merchants, and there were even some who looked like monks.

Lawrence took a deep breath, mentally taking on the role of someone who simply happened upon Holo in his travels. A shameless performance was the perfect chance for a former merchant to show off his skill.

And due to his business, he had made connections with people in relative positions of power. If things got bad, he could just rely on them, so there was no need to be too worried.

Just as he watched Holo off as he thought about all that, a word reached his ears that sounded entirely out of place.

“Please wait! Could you perhaps be Lady Myuri?!”

“Huh?”

It was not just Lawrence but Holo, who was trying to disappear into the crowd, who was shocked by this, and she stopped in her tracks.

That was because they had just heard the name of Lawrence and Holo’s only daughter.

“…Dear?”

Perplexed, Holo looked up to Lawrence for his decision.

Lawrence briefly showed his palm to Holo and then turned to look at the group approaching them.

He watched as they shrank back as they tried to make their way through the crowd, being yelled at by short-tempered artisans and greedy-looking merchants—if this was an act, then they were going quite overboard. They did not seem like bad people.

At the very least, it did not seem like they were rushing them to kill a pagan god.

“Maybe we should listen to them.”

And with a sigh, Lawrence continued.

“We should probably pick up what we can to see what that tomboy’s been up to.”

The girl inherited Holo’s blood, after all…, Lawrence thought, and he left it as just a thought.

Once some of the priests rushed over to the couple and saw Holo from the front, they immediately knew they had made a mistake.

“Your…your hair…?”

Holo’s hair was a flaxen color that matched the autumn forest, but the hair of their daughter, Myuri, was a beautiful silver from Lawrence’s strong blood. They could not be mistaken for each other.

“Hmm? What might it be?”

Still not quite grasping the situation, they decided to keep it quiet that Myuri was their daughter for now.

When Holo responded with feigned ignorance, they hurriedly righted themselves.

“O-our apologies. Might you perhaps be…?”

They asked again like it was their last hope, and Holo tilted her head with a smile.

As their shoulders dropped in disappointment, they still stared hard at Holo’s face as though they were not giving up.

“She really looks just like her, though…”

“Truly, yes, truly.”

“Um, are you her sister?”

Holo slowly shook her head—she was her mother, not her sister.

On the other hand, Lawrence could see her tail happily flicking back and forth at what they said.

She was several centuries old, and she never seemed to age at all when she was in her human form. Regardless, she did not appear particularly unhappy to be mistaken for someone the same age as her daughter. No matter how long she lived, a maiden was still a maiden.

“I never thought there could be someone out there who resembled her so closely…”

They were all sighing with admiration, so Lawrence cut in.

“And what is happening with this Lady Myuri?”

The original goal of Lawrence and Holo’s trip was to see their only daughter, Myuri.

When Col, the young man who had worked at the house for years, set off, spurred on by his faith, Myuri had forced him to take her with him.

The two were evidently causing great commotion throughout the world as they traveled, but their communications had stopped coming. Holo said there was nothing to worry about, but Lawrence felt uneasy, so they were going to check on Myuri’s safety.

“Lady Myuri? Er…pardon us, but have you two recently come to the area?”

“Yes. We usually run a humble inn secluded in the mountains…This is the first time in a while that we’ve come to town.”

It was not a lie, and that was also clear from his dress. Because of how long they had lived in the mountains, both Holo and Lawrence wore thicker clothes that stood out from the crowd.

“I see. Then, you might not know.” The one dressed in priest robes cleared his throat. “Are you aware that the world is in the midst of a great wave of people searching for true and proper faith?”

“Errr…yes. Somewhat…”

It was originally a big fight between a country called the Winfiel Kingdom and the pope, who was the head of the Church.

For several long years, the Church had been collecting taxes under the pretext of punishing the pagans, but even after years passed since the conclusion of the war, they were still collecting the same taxes.

The Winfiel Kingdom speaking up about how odd that was had been what started it all, leading to the masses crying out about their dissatisfaction with how the Church had accumulated excessive wealth and other degenerate behavior of many clergy.

The flames of reform were lighting here and there, and the priests were in utter confusion.

There had even been trouble in Nyohhira, where plenty of high-ranking clergy came as guests.

“The Church in this town had also lost sight of the path of faith. It was Sir Col, the Twilight Cardinal, and Saint Myuri, who supports him, who showed us a new path.”

Saint Myuri.

Lawrence and Holo reflexively exchanged glances.

The Myuri they knew well was a tomboy who would run around the wild mountains half-naked, catching frogs and snakes and whatnot with bare hands and a straight face, tie them up with string, then toss them in a lake to fish up enormous catfish.

She was quite far from a saint.

“And it is said that the first time Sir Col and Lady Myuri gained God’s blessing was here in this town. This is where it all began.”

The middle-aged monk smiled proudly.

Lawrence remembered that something similar had been written in their letter.

“But we heard that the Twilight Cardinal and Lady Myuri had headed south. We were just thinking about how we might leave behind just a bit of the memory of the miracle here.”

Holo reacted slightly when he said “leave behind just a bit of the memory.” It was these priests who ordinarily handled chronicling all the events of the world.

“We then heard that a woman who looks exactly like Lady Myuri passed through the city wall, so we rushed over. We knew that this must be God’s will.”

“Erm…uh…”

Regardless of Lawrence and Holo exchanging glances, one of the priests signaled to one of the rather well-dressed merchants with a look. The merchant began to peel away the cloth that was wrapped around a large, square board that he cradled with care.

“We, servants of the Church, ordered this and it finally came today. And when we think that a woman like you came to town on this day, there is no doubt that this has been God’s guidance.”

Then, when the wrappings on the board fell away, Lawrence’s and Holo’s eyes widened.

“What do you think? With this, anyone can tell at a glance what sort of miracle this town was blessed with!”

What they showed them was a single painting.

Because of the clouded sky and the rocky mountain setting, the whole tone of the painting was rather dark.

However, rays of dawn peeked through the clouds in the distant background, and a young adult man was reaching out to it. A pious-looking girl quietly prayed beside him, and angels with trumpets in their hands were floating around them…It was a common composition, but the two in the picture were clearly Col and Myuri.

“Well? As the place where it all started, we are even thinking about having a large ceiling mural based on this painting commissioned in the Atiph church.”

The workmanship on the painting was eye-catching, so Lawrence wondered less about the craftsmanship and more about the price.

Paints were so expensive that it was like cutting jewels open.

When he shook his head in disbelief, the priests interpreted that gesture to mean that he was stirred on a spiritual level, and they looked at him proudly.

“In about ten days, the Church will hold an unveiling of the painting and a gathering for prayer. Please, we would appreciate it if you came as well. You will surely attain wonderful spiritual fulfillment and find protection for your travels to come.”

When that invitation came with a friendly smile, it was hard to say no.

With no other choice, Lawrence gave his agreement with an absent response, and the priests gripped both his and Holo’s hands with great joy, then left with a spring in their steps.

Lawrence, now left behind, was still not fully satisfied, but he suddenly noticed the rather serious look on Holo’s face.

Holo was a survivor of the age of the forests and spirits, one called the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. Perhaps she found it unforgivable that a picture of her daughter, who inherited her blood, would be hung on the walls of a church that the humans so worshipped.

“Dear,” Holo said, her voice low.

“Holo, now just wait a minute—”

This was also a trend of the times. He wanted to tell her to think of it as a painting of someone else who simply happened to look similar, but she cut him off.

“Listen, dear.”

“What?”

“I want one, too!”

Still looking in the direction the priests had gone off in, Holo grabbed Lawrence’s arm.

Her wolf parts were in a dancing fit under her skirt and her hood.

She looked at him and said, red eyes sparkling, “Have a painting of us done, too!”

The wisewolf Holo never aged, and she would look like a girl for eternity. She was by nature incompatible with the flow of time in the human world, and she would inevitably be left behind, alone. That was why she could only record Lawrence’s words, movements, and memories in writing.

And no matter how she pruned her words and wrote in detail, it would never match up against reality. It was hard for someone to recall an apple if they had never seen one before.

But what about a painting?

“Dear, I…”

Holo stared at Lawrence, her lips pursed and eyes swimming.

Though it was unbecoming of his age, Lawrence found himself flustered by the sight of Holo being so emotional, but he had much too much life experience to agree so readily.

Before he started thinking about all the details, he responded as a former merchant.

“Come on—don’t be so absurd.”

“What?!”

Holo seemed like she was going to bite him, but he of course had a response for her.

“Do you know…how much a painting costs?”

They were products for nobles, which was why that merchant was dressed so well.

It was not something a mere bathhouse owner could get his hands on.

“No, but it’s…”

Holo’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she looked off in the direction the priests went. They could see the bell tower of Atiph’s cathedral beyond the dense cluster of buildings.

The painting, likely ordered by people from the Church with the resources they had, was of excellent workmanship. It was like everything that was happening before them had been put down as is on canvas. No matter how hard Holo gripped her quill, it would never compare. That was how much power that image possessed.

And because of that, nobles were keen to leave behind their likenesses in paintings, and the Church had pictures of scenes from the scripture.

“No, no. Anything but that.”

“…”

Holo’s gaze still darted back and forth between the church and Lawrence, but she finally dropped her shoulders in disappointment. She often used her wiles to loosen his purse strings, but she knew how much was inside. She never asked for anything truly outrageous. She must have figured out the sheer cost of paintings from how Lawrence reacted.

In the end, her perked ears and tail deflated beneath her hood and skirt.

If she had simply seen a painting, there was no questioning that she would not have so desperately wanted it. She had seen her share of paintings while traveling, but she had never begged for one before.

But now she had finally come across one that depicted her daughter, who had the exact same face as her, and Col, whom she had known since he was a child. Of course she would want one of herself, too.

“Come on—don’t make that face.”

Lawrence placed his hand on her shoulder, but she did not respond.

He sighed, fished through his coin pouch, and pulled out another silver.

“This can get you plenty of parchment, good food from town, and you can write about your banquet, too.”

Even though her eyes would typically be shining at the opportunity, they remained downcast.

And yet, she was still gripping the silver coin, so it did not seem like she was as dejected as she appeared.

After a moment of thought, Lawrence spoke.

“Or we could take the option of saving up for paint without wasting our money on things we don’t need. Luckily, we have a connection with an artist we met on our old travels.”

“…That pig, no?”

“Mr. Hugues, the sheep.”

Lawrence was making more money than he used to, so the amount that came out of his wallet to please Holo had increased considerably to match. If he saved instead of letting it be squandered away, it would absolutely be a hefty sum.

And even as she whimpered, she was still Holo the Wisewolf. She was likely thinking just that beneath her droopy wolf ears.

In that case, the thing she had to fight against now was her desires.

“…You…take it…,” Holo said, holding out to him the silver she gripped in her hand.

Lawrence was surprised, but it was not because her hand was shaking.

She had been so set on having her fried herring and cool ale, yet she chose frugality.

Holo! Choosing frugality!

Lawrence was touched by how Holo felt, but he had not forgotten his rational, merchantlike decision.

“How about just one for today?”

He took the two silvers from Holo but then gave one back to her.

“A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step. We have to keep this up every day.”

Her freshly fried herring and ale came back to her—she looked up to him with wide eyes.

And then, as though she would never let go, she gripped the silver with both hands and held it to her chest.

Lawrence could not help the smile on his face when he saw her like that, and she glared at him.

“You have always been after a way to get rich quick and constantly run into trouble; I refuse to be laughed at by you!”

“…Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Hmph!”

Holo turned away in a huff, but she did not seem to be that upset. They could forge a path that eventually led to a painting but also eat delicious food. Holo had once said that asceticism did not always bring about good things.

That was because giving up on one thing for something else was not necessarily the correct choice.

“All right, go shopping, then. I’ll get a boat ready for us at the Debau Company. You’re okay with meeting up there, right? Remember you can ask people for directions.”

“I am Holo the Wisewolf. I am not a child.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lawrence responded and then added, “and since you’re not a child, be sure to get my share of herring, too.”

Holo then glared at him from the corner of her eye and said, “And that will be your payment.”

“…But that was my…Fine, I get it.”

When she bared her fangs and growled at him, he pulled back.

“Make sure to pick an ale that’s cold.”

“I know! You fool!”

Holo leaped from the cart with that sharp parting remark and disappeared into the crowd.

“Sheesh, don’t make the name of the wisewolf cry like that.”

Holo was cunning and sometimes even more childish than Myuri.

“Well, I guess that’s why I never get tired of you,” he murmured in self-ridicule, and then he scratched his head. “But a painting…?”

The reason he rejected Holo’s tearful pleas was not because he was being cheap. Paintings really did come with a terrifyingly high price. He flipped through his mental account book, but he still found it difficult to scrape together the funds for it. Commissioning an artisan who would paint aside, procuring the paints and whatnot alone would cost immense amounts of money.

That was why something caught his attention when he heard that those priests had ordered that painting. Perhaps they truly did want to hang up a painting out of their faith, but the monetary power that allowed them to order it so easily and how they did not think twice of doing something else first with that money showed that even though they spoke of reform and correct faith, they were still steeped in the habits of the privileged.

However, it was too late to excuse their lack of worldly sense.

What he needed to be thinking about now was his own financial position.

“If we don’t have it, we just have to get it.”

He needed to obtain a considerable amount of money as efficiently as possible.

Holo had curtly cut him off, but Lawrence still had his pride as a merchant.

Plus, there was a commercial business in this town that he had always wondered about.

Lawrence had the horse proceed at a slow canter to take him to the Debau Company.

The Debau Company was a massive firm whose influence had spread throughout the entire northern region of the mainland. They had branches in each area, and they naturally had a splendid trading house here in Atiph.

Over ten years ago, Lawrence and Holo had had a small hand in the big trouble the Debau Company was involved with, so they had a familiar relationship. Not only that, but one letter from Col and Myuri said that they had stayed at the Debau Company in Atiph, so this visit also served as a way to say thanks for taking care of them.

The manager who ran the trading house of course greeted Lawrence with profuse hospitality, but it felt excessive to him. He could even say that there was a hint of fear behind the manager’s strained smile. And that was also the moment when he mentioned Col’s and Myuri’s names.

Their letters said that while there were ups and downs, their journey was generally going well. Though he wondered if there might be something they were not telling him, he sort of felt bad about pressing the manager, who was watching Lawrence’s every move and showing him the highest degree of respect.

There was that, so he just left it at checking in on a few clerical things before asking to stay in the trading house until their departure.

After being given the best room in the building in an instant, Lawrence put his luggage away and then asked the manager one last question.

Departing based on what he heard, Lawrence made his way to one of the livelier ports in the Atiph harbor town, his destination being a place with the most exciting reputation even within that port.

There were various kinds of shops, companies, and even a line of artisan workshops, but on a corner, there was a building with a metal sign in the shape of a herring. At a glance, it looked like a tavern that specialized in seafood, but it was not.

The moment Lawrence opened the door, the loud voices and heat practically slapped him in the face.

“Ooooh! Look! The Gabon Company sure claimed a ton!”

“Anyone, anyone?! Anyone claiming anything?!”

“What, did the Gabon Company catch something?!”

“Nah, it’s still before the harvest festival; no way I’ll know what the sea’ll be like next spring. How should I know what the fish in the whimsical southern seas are supposed to be like?!”

“Tips, anyone for tips?! Who wants some tips straight from the northern sea?!”

The stiflingly hot air was coming from the excitement of the people packed in there, the strong-looking alcohol in their hands, and the mountains of fried fish. And for some reason, smoked herring hung from the ceiling, making the air even more potent than it needed to be.

It seemed like a gathering place for gamblers, yet everyone there was dressed in fine clothes.

But the refinement of an art dealer who would offer a painting to the Church was nowhere to be seen; they were money mad, those who would start scraping off the edges of their silver if they had a free moment.

“Well, you’re not a face we see around here,” a voice called out to him as he stood still in the doorway. The man had quills stuck behind both of his ears, and he had a thick accounts book in his hand. It was filled with numbers and abbreviations of names. “If you thought this place was a tavern, then go home.”

The wharves were a gathering place for the rough sort, and everyone was quick to start a fight.

Despite how overwhelmed Lawrence was, he quickly pulled himself together.

“The Debau Company lent me participation rights.”

“Hmm?”

The bearded man, his alcohol-flushed face shining with grease, grabbed the parchment that Lawrence produced.

Then, once he scanned it, he forced his coarseness back with a somehow awed smile.

“A’riiight, starting today, you’re one of our crew. But I can’t guarantee if you’ll be heading to heaven or hell!”

The man roared with laughter and smacked Lawrence’s shoulders painfully, then took one of the quills from behind his ear.

“And you came at a good time! This year’s trade only started a few days ago, so there’s no telling where you’ll be headed. It’s the most interesting time of the year! So what’ll it be? The price list’s over there!”

There was a massive board on the wall that stretched from floor to ceiling, and written on it were countless numbers and rather adorable drawings of fish. Errand boys clung to the ladder that leaned beside the board, busily changing the numbers. This was a sight that could be seen sometimes at auctions in markets, though this was a different kind.

But even Lawrence, who had pride as an ex-merchant that he had traveled the world and dealt with almost every kind of good, had only ever heard of the merchandise handled here in rumors.

“Come and claim, come and claim! Smile for spring or cry for spring! It’s all the will of our mother, the sea!”

That provocative line only made the air in there hotter.

The place that Lawrence visited was not an exchange for herring but an exchange for herring eggs.

Herring could be caught in large quantities. Huge, massive bunches of them. They had to be widely available in order for them to be cheap even in the deepest mountain ranges.

Even though everyone has tasted the fish at least once, there was a part of it that many had actually never tasted.

And that was their eggs.

“Last year was a bad catch, the year before last was a good catch, and the year before that was also a good catch, and before that for five years were all fantastic catches. So that means this year will, at worst, be a good catch, and depending, it might even be an unprecedented fantastic catch.”

“You idiot, good and bad catches for herring mean nothing. It just depends on how many eggs are in the herring’s stomachs in the end, right? The herring are meatier and have fantastic builds this year in that respect. They’ll probably be so filled with eggs by the time winter ends, they’ll be bursting with ’em!”

“Hey, are you a kid who’s just trading for the first time? This is a trade that exists because there are buyers and sellers. We could talk about herring all day, but we won’t know how much they’ll cost without the crucial buyers. The key is in the sardines, as they say.”

“You saying you’ve got info on the south?”

“Heh-heh-heh, and what if I do?”

“Damn it, he knows something!”

Conversations like that ceaselessly continued at every table. They spoke about information on herring, rumors about the south, and especially the summer weather and the harvest of something called sardines.

People did not eat herring eggs; they were instead used as bait for sardine fishing. And since sardines had a much bigger difference in good and bad catches than herring did, the value of the ground bait that were the herring eggs fluctuated violently from one extreme to the other.

Merchants were like cats—their attention was immediately grabbed by merchandise whose price varied a lot, and they were planning on jumping after them.

“Man, if I were a fish, I’d swim right down to the southern seas and directly ask the sardines how things are looking!”

When one merchant yelled that, everyone else there burst out in laughter.

All the merchants here came from various faraway regions to Atiph to bet on the price of the herring eggs that would be harvested the following spring. Most were wealthy merchants, and from Lawrence’s perspective, they were casually placing dizzying amounts of money on the line.

Wheat also had violent fluctuations in price, but gambling on its futures was outlawed in every town because it was a necessity in daily life. If handled poorly, one might be seen as a monopolist and possibly sent to the guillotine.

In that respect, since it was the sardines that ate herring eggs, the sardines would not get angry, no matter how much one bought.

And since they were not gambling with dice and cards, the Church let the practice slide.

It was called one of the very few trades that God ordered for the merchants.

And so there were plenty of merchants gathered here, and it was said that it was thanks to this trade of herring eggs that Atiph could develop far away from other port cities. When wealthy merchants came together, they dropped a considerable amount of money into the town, and when they did that, various trades were brought to life and even more people came to gather.

Lawrence came to this exchange, which almost had the atmosphere of a festival inside, not only to observe but also to bet.

“Then I will be buying. I’m a little embarrassed placing a bid at such a low price, though.”

“Heh, aw, don’t be. Even the men over there with stacks of lumione on their table all started out with a single silver, too. Some of ’em lost everything, down to the clothes on their back, but saved up seed money harvesting the eggs from the herrings’ stomachs like they were clearing their grudges, and then they came back ready to go again. May God protect you!”

The man took the silver from Lawrence and wrote the number down in his account book; he truly seemed to be enjoying himself.

“But you really wanna buy?”

He asked that after he wrote down Lawrence’s purchase order.

“I hear it was clear all year on the southern seas. When it’s sunny like that, the catch of sardines the following season is usually bad.”

He egged on Lawrence’s fears like that either to extract a cancel fee from him or to collect information from him.

Either way, Lawrence was not inexperienced enough to fall for it.

“God came to me in a vision.”

The man’s mouth warped into a grin.

“Well, I take orders all the time. The day of thanks in the spring is the last day of trade. But no one keeps taking orders for that long.”

From what Lawrence heard at the Debau Company, most of the merchants here had nothing to do with the herring eggs themselves. They only speculated on the fluctuating prices, and most of them apparently closed out on their bets partway through. On the last day of this great commotion, the merchants who actually processed, transported, and sold the herring eggs to the fishermen and companies in the south would come, taking the eggs according to the orders from the south.

It was an odd trade, but thanks to this exchange here, the herring fishermen could sell the eggs they had not harvested yet and receive the payment up front. Because of that, even if it became clear afterward that there was a terrible catch of sardines in the south and the price of their feed, the herring eggs, plummeted, the fishermen would have already received payment, so they could have some peace of mind. Conversely, if the price of eggs shot up, most of them might find that vexing, but they would all rather choose security.

And the merchants, who saw things the other way around and loved foolhardy bets, put their fates in the hands of the herring eggs from autumn to spring, until they discovered what the real demand for the eggs was.

“May God protect your partners on your new ship, too,” the man said, smacking Lawrence on the shoulder, then shuffled off after being called over by another merchant.

The values on the board continued to change in the meanwhile. There were still no eggs in the herrings’ stomachs, and there were still not even any sardines that would eat those gathered eggs. They were all trading in imaginary herring eggs here.

The merchants’ world was a strange one, one that almost made Lawrence forget he ran a bathhouse in the mountains of Nyohhira.

He deeply inhaled the air of the place and found himself smiling in delight.

But he had not come simply to relive his memories, nor had he come to make bets at random. He had a chance of success.

Plenty of guests from the south came to the bathhouses in Nyohhira, so even though he was the bathhouse master of an establishment in the remote northern mountains, he was not entirely ignorant of word of the southern seas. He had heard from his southern guests that the catch of sardines depended on the rains that visited the rivers upstream in the summer.

Lawrence had a heartening ally as well. The one whom he worshipped, praised the tail of, and offered alcohol and delicious food to every day was none other than Holo, one who could control the harvests and bad crops of wheat, one who had even been regarded as a god. He had once asked her about the relationship between sardines and the rain when she dozed during a nap.

He then learned that the rain washed the nutrients down from the mountain, ultimately dissolving into the river, where they helped the river fish grow fat. The situation was the same for the sea, where the river emptied into, so it would not be wrong to see it as the rains upstream eventually becoming a good catch for fish in the sea.

And he heard that it had been quite rainy upstream this summer. As a result, the price of wheat rose because of a bad harvest, and he knew that other foodstuffs would follow suit and also go up in price. For that, there was no questioning that once sardine fishing started, sardines would fetch a high price, and the bait used in that fishing would also go up.

Anyway, when he put all that information together, he saw victory.

Not only that, but unlike so-called gambling, no matter how far off the estimates he was, he would still at least get some herring eggs in this bet. Like the exchange of arms long ago, it was impossible that he would lose anything over his standing, and as long as herring eggs never started going for free, he would not lose everything.

It was a perfect calculation.

“I can still do things as a merchant. And it’ll go toward her painting—two birds with one stone.”

Lawrence sang his own praises, but he of course chose to gamble very carefully. He did not bet all his assets like he would have done a long time ago, and he modestly spent only a few silver trenni.

If he added this bet to the meager pile of methods he might use to make money in the future, then they could probably commission a small painting.

Holo would surely be happy.

“It might all be for her, but I still have to keep a trade like this secret. Who knows what she’ll say.”

Holo often seemed easygoing, but she was surprisingly dependable.

Lawrence left the exchange and sniffed his own clothes. There was no way Holo would not notice the smell of alcohol and fried food on him, and she would certainly ask where he went.

On the way back to the Debau Company, he stood in the smoke of stands grilling beef as long as he could, and he bought skewered garlic and a hodgepodge of fish for her as a souvenir.

On the first day of their stay, the Debau Company gave them a hardy welcome, and they stayed up rather late.

But the boat wouldn’t be full and ready to leave for at least the next ten days, so there was naturally no need to feel hurried. They had been camping outside until then, so it was the perfect chance for them to rest their tired bodies.

The following day, Lawrence awoke with the rising sun as was his habit, but of course, instead of getting straight up, he went back to sleep. He was so comfortable, he understood very well why Holo always grumbled when it came to waking up. He lent himself to the comfort of falling back to sleep as he thought about that and finally woke up for good when the sun was already high in the sky.

He knew he needed to get up soon, and he searched for fur within the blanket as he always did. They had borrowed some hot water from the company yesterday to have a thorough cleaning, so Holo’s tail was as fluffy as it had ever been.

Cuddling a warm Holo, tail and all, was the best thing for an idle morning nap…but as his hand fished around, he finally opened his eyes.

“…Holo?”

Holo, who typically would sleep forever if he let her, was not there. He looked to the back of the chair by the bed and saw that only Lawrence’s coat hung off it—Holo’s robe was gone.

He had thought she would be sleeping in until noon that day, considering how much they drank last night, so he wondered where she went.

“…Maybe she’ll be back soon…”

Lawrence murmured to himself and yawned. Without Holo around, he found himself bored in his first moments of consciousness. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

But once he knew that Holo was gone, it seemed like the inside of the blanket went cold, and the room was too quiet. Once he finally sneezed, Lawrence curled up in a sulk.

It was almost like he could not fall asleep on his own out of loneliness.

Regrettably, even though he squeezed his eyes shut, determined to fall back to sleep for a third time, drowsiness never came. The silence rang in his ears, and he felt uneasy.

“…”

No need to be stubborn; I guess I’ll go look for her.

As he thought that to himself, just as he was about to get up, the door opened.

“What, you are still asleep?”

That was the first thing Holo said when he turned to face the door and their eyes met.

Lawrence only ever slept in during the very few times that there was nothing happening at the bathhouse, and he was usually the one to wake Holo. Even on this trip, he got up first when they were camping and busied himself with preparing breakfast and starting the fire.

He had been disappointed at finding himself alone in bed, but Holo did not seem to mind a bit. She reached out to the cask placed by the window, poured the remaining wine from last night into a cup, and immediately drank it down in a single gulp.

“Burp.”

He was exasperated at how much energy she had despite getting up early in the morning. Holo wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then energetically whirled around.

“Come now—you mustn’t sleep all day. We must get ready to go!”

Still under the blanket, Lawrence furrowed his brow quizzically.

“Go…? Go where?”

“To town, of course! I have collected word of noteworthy places,” Holo said, and Lawrence finally noticed the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. “You agreed last night, too.”

“Last night…? Wh…?”

Lawrence slowly got up and tried to remember with his vague memory.

After they had filled themselves with seafood, they drank the sweet mead they still had plenty of as Holo and her freshly washed tail sat on his lap. They were relaxed knowing they could fall straight asleep, unlike when it came to camping outside, so they ended up drinking a lot. The mead was eventually not enough, and he remembered popping open spirits.

After that, he did not remember anything.

Luckily, he was not hungover, but Holo stood by the bed, arms folded and glowering down at him like she was angry with her habitually drunk husband.

Lawrence shrugged and Holo sighed, pulled the coat off the chair back, and tossed it to him.

He slowly removed the garment from his head, and Holo said, “We have time until the ship leaves, no?”

“Hmm? Yeah, it sounds like they have a lot to pack…They’re busy exchanging the wheat from the south’s summer harvest and the furs from the north. Um…and? We could probably see all the sights in town in a day, and I asked the Debau Company to order writing implements for you…”

But Holo gripped some sort of paper in her hand. It seemed the lazy Holo had gotten up early and gone to gather information.

Lawrence swallowed a yawn and looked up to his sometimes-outrageous traveling partner.

“So what are we doing?”

Holo sniffed, then sighed, and then stuck the paper out into Lawrence’s face.

“I shall be working myself to the bone!”

I think you’re still drunk from last night, Lawrence thought.

Once they entered the lively town of Atiph, Holo eagerly peered at the piece of paper in her hand as Lawrence yawned beside her. The note had various things in Holo’s usual bad handwriting written on it, and it seemed to be generally the types of work found in towns.

Holo was a proud wolf, but it was exceedingly uncertain to say if she was diligent or not. It would take rather a whole lot for her to work during a trip without sightseeing or wandering around and eating the local specialties.

When he asked, the day before really did seem to be the cause of it.

“I whined like a child about wanting the picture, but you cannot create something from nothing. And your wallet is meant for buying me food and drink at the end of the day.”

“I’m really happy that you noticed the truth. I wish you’d known that when I was traveling around as a merchant, though.”

“Fool. And I asked about the price of a painting, and, well…I do understand why you would refuse on the spot.”

Holo was, all in all, sharp and clever, so she had a better grasp on the market values of things than any random girl wandering about town.

“But if we just have something done with charcoal and cloth, then we could still have someone draw us with pen and water in just a few days.”

“…”

Holo glared at Lawrence when he said that.

“Why does that little fool Myuri get something so wonderful, while my face must be dirtied with charcoal?”

The Great Wisewolf was hundreds of years old.

But Lawrence knew Holo very well.

Beneath her massive wolf fangs was a maiden more ladylike than her daughter, Myuri.

“Of course. You’re just as cute as Myuri is, but you would shine much brighter in a painting for all the dignity that you have.”

He would not dare breathe a syllable of calling her childish, so that was what he said. Of course, there was no mistruth to it, either, so Holo, whose ears could detect lies, was delighted.

“It seems you’ve finally understood.”

“Yes, finally,” he responded theatrically, and Holo burst out into laughter, unable to hold it back, and Lawrence laughed as well. “So are you planning on earning some money somewhere? It’s a lively town, so I don’t think you’ll be too hard-pressed to find some temporary work…What are these symbols here?”

“Mm, ’tis work I believe would suit me.”

Work suitable for Holo the Wisewolf.

Lawrence quietly repeated that phrase to himself as Holo showed him her notes, but ignoring her as she beamed with pride, he found himself making a rather dry smile.

“Bakery salesgirl, tavern salesgirl, sausage salesgirl…These are all food-related.”

“Good, no?”

He would refrain from asking how it was good.

She likely assumed she could snack her way through work.

Despite that thought in his head, Lawrence said, “I’m sure the shop owners would be happy to hire you as a poster girl for their shop.”

“Indeed!”

She was charismatic and had a nice smile, so if she stood out in front of a store wearing a headkerchief and an apron, a line would form in no time.

There was no question about that at all, but Lawrence knew one thing that Holo did not. Well, perhaps it would be more apt to say that there was something, thinking back on their past trade journey together, that she had forgotten.

Yet, if he said it out loud, Holo would likely not acknowledge it.

There were plenty of things in the world that one had to experience to learn.

“Well, good luck,” Lawrence said and returned the paper to Holo. “Your drunk and useless husband is going to go laze about in his room.”

Holo flashed a gallant smile and laughed.

Holo was hired on the spot as a salesgirl for a bakery. Not only was this a busy season for travelers, but boats were coming into harbor one after the other, so customers who were fed up with hardtack came in droves to the shop to get their fresh bread. They greeted her briefly before telling her to stand outside right away.

After waving to Holo as she excitedly put on her apron, Lawrence left the shop.

He wandered around the port afterward, looking into the price and quality of the goods that came to Atiph, and paid a visit to the companies he always ordered from. He then went around to visit a few companies that dealt with flours in town. They had run into trouble ordering wheat before, and there might be something cheaper than the barley from the production center they always bought from. The barley farms were always going in and out of fashion.

And he found himself getting excited just by looking at the shops in a lively town.

Running a bathhouse was by no means boring, but it was a different sort of enjoyment from thinking about how to order an unbelievable number of products and where he might sell them to get the highest price.

He ate lunch outside at some food stands, then, feeling like he was a rookie again, he went around to look minutely at the business transactions in Atiph. He decided to peek in at the herring egg exchange while he was at it, and he chuckled to himself when he saw the price of eggs was going up.

Time passed in a flash as he wandered around doing this and that, and the loud ringing of the church bell brought him back to reality. It signaled the end of a day and was also the bell to close up shop for most places. Holo would be finishing work soon.

Thinking she would have been standing and talking all day for work, Lawrence bought what he was told was freshly made apple cider, then returned to the Debau Company. The maids let him know that Holo had already returned.

Lawrence opened the door to the room and gave a tired smile.

“Good work today.”

Holo had scattered her thick clothing and lay facedown on the bed, wearing only her chilly, casual clothes.

She did not even budge an inch, and the lay of fur on her tail that she was so proud of was mussed.

The room was filled with the scent of fresh bread, and the source of the smell was likely Holo.

If he hugged her as she was now, she would doubtlessly smell incredibly good.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” he asked, but she did not move. He thought about how she did not seem to be asleep as he placed the small cask of cider on the table. There was a bag there. He loosened the strings to open it and found some bread that she had brought home, likely a gift from the shop owner. It all looked delicious, but it did not seem like any of the loaves had been touched. The gluttonous Holo would never have considered something so laudable as waiting until her dearest husband had returned home before eating.

With a knowing smile, Lawrence said, “It’s only the first few minutes that it smells good, isn’t it?”

She probably figured that if she was to work at all, she might as well spend her hours be surrounded by good smells…But there was such a thing as too much of a good thing.

“You…knew…”

He heard her parched voice coming from the bed, one that made his own throat hurt just listening to it.

“Sure, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“…”

Her messy tail stood and then lifelessly drooped.

“I can’t remember when, but you went to go sell meat and bread to a water mill construction site, remember? Did you forget that it was only at the very beginning that you were happily snacking on the product?”

“∼∼∼…”

Holo said something with her face still pushed into the pillow, kicked her feet, and then held them straight out. That meant Shut up and massage my feet.

“Now you see how hard it is to make money.”

He sat down on the bed, and Holo kicked him with her bare feet. There was lukewarm water and a washcloth in a washtub next to the bed, so he soaked the cloth in the water, squeezed it out, and then wiped her feet. They were small and shapely.

The maids had likely been very considerate by putting hot water into the washtub, but Holo was in no mood to bother with it after using up all her energy; she had used the last of it removing her clothes before lying facedown on the bed.

“But it was a good event to remember, wasn’t it?” Lawrence said with a smile, and her left foot, which he was not washing, kicked him in the shoulder.

“Are you going tomorrow?”

The moment he asked, her right foot shuddered in his hand.

When he looked up to her face, she had lifted her head and spoke painfully. “…The name of the wisewolf would be shamed should I run away after one day…”

Shops hired travelers temporarily on a day or half-day basis, so they typically would not mind, but Holo was a proud one.

“Well, tomorrow you can work hard, and then we can just say that a different shop called on you.”

Holo closed her eyes and sighed deeply, then slowly sat up and clung to Lawrence.

“I can’t wipe your feet like this.”

Even though he still had her left foot to go, Holo continued clinging to him, unmoving, like a small child.

Despite how she could easily breeze her way through the world on her own, she was in this state after just one day of working at a bakery.

Lawrence found himself smiling, but he was also happy when he thought about how she was showing him her vulnerable side like this.

“You should take a little rest. The lights are on all night at the port this time of year, so we can do some sightseeing as we go eat.”

He patted Holo’s head, and her triangular wolf ears flicked about. When she did, wheat flew off them, like scales falling from a butterfly, and he could tell how rough her work was.

“Well then, I’m going to talk a bit with the manager here about my wo—”

Just as he was about to stand, he was pulled back into the bed. Holo did not even move to lift her head from his chest. She had surely lavishly spent an entire year’s worth of amiability at the bakery.

Holo was shy; she was trying to replenish herself after being eroded down by customer service.

Lawrence made a tired yet kind smile, embraced her in return, and her tail began to lightly thump against the bed.

Someone always needed the happiness of a merchant.

And before long, he could hear her snoring softly.

In the end, Holo worked for three days at the bakery out of pride and did not quite earn a silver trenni but made about half of one. She was paid in small change, which also helped. Her payment was overboard considering the market prices, either because she worked really hard or because the bakery was very successful.

In exchange, Lawrence was busy filling in all the parts of Holo she had worked to dust.

He brushed her hair after getting up in the morning, dressed her, ripped off pieces of bread to feed her, patted her on the head when she got down, complimented her tail—he almost wanted some sort of salary for himself, but he did not mind such days every once in a while.

After it was all said and done, Holo spent almost two full days in depravity after finishing work at the bakery before she finally got her energy back.

“Honestly, what a terrible thing I have been through!” Holo said as she ripped into the sausage she was eating for lunch in the room they were staying in.

She spoke as though it was Lawrence who had forced her into working, but it would only drag on if he pointed that out to her, so he stayed silent.

“But I could not even manage a shiny silver for myself; how dreadfully long it must take…”

“There’s no rush in making money. There’s still so much work here.”

The paper Holo had filled with notes about work she had heard about around town was packed with jobs meant for travelers who were waiting for favorable winds for their boat or for their stagecoach, or the kind that suddenly needed more helping hands.

Unloading cargo at the port was a standard job, and there was also work for people to chase the herds of pigs and sheep once they were unloaded. There was also demand for boat cleaners, as well as seamstresses to repair the sails—all very typical of a port town.

There were also plenty of salesgirls, and those who could read and write would undoubtedly find work at the notary association.

“I have had enough of the food sort,” Holo said, sprinkling a generous helping of mustard onto her sausage before biting into it.

Her shoulders immediately tensed at the spice, and the hairs on her tail stood on end.

“Then what’s left is technical work or heavy labor.”

“Ooooh…Is there nothing else? Something easy and simple. Wine tasting or something of the sort.”

Despite how she had just gotten a taste of the pain of being surrounded by too much food, she had not learned her lesson.

“You’d be a huge help if there was work meant for sniffing out mixed flour.”

That very thing had happened in the bathhouse once, and Holo and Myuri realized they had gotten mixed flour thanks to their wolf noses.

“You fool. Should I do a job like that, I would not be able to smell for ten days afterward.”

But then you wouldn’t realize you were eating cheap food, and that’d be a big help…, Lawrence murmured silently to himself as his eyes stopped on a line in the list of jobs she had collected.

“What is this?”

“Mm?”

Traveling merchants went to many different lands and conducted business in each place according to circumstances. That was why he had considerable confidence when it came to knowledge about the world, but there was something there that Lawrence did not know.

“Mixing girl?”

“Ah yes, that one.” Holo stuffed her mouth with bread filled with walnuts and clapped her hands. “I heard about it from a girl who was sewing all day in this trading house. There is some sort of job like that in the harbor.”

“Do you mix things, like the name says? What do you mix?”

“I hear the most common is wheat. Aye. Sounds quite suited for me.”

That did not ring any bells.

“Do you help a baker, then?” Lawrence asked, and Holo swallowed her wine to finish off her meal, then exhaled in bliss.

“I have already said I will no longer do such a thing, no? This work is caring for the wheat before it is made into flour. You only deal with wheat by placing it on your nice, breezy cart, which is why you do not know.” Holo wiped her mouth, energetically reached for a certain coat pocket, and grabbed Lawrence’s share of food as well. “You know wheat goes bad quickly in the damp, yes? ’Tis also true in the village. So when it is being stored, it must be mixed twice a day to air it out. Ones that might seem especially damp are left to dry outside.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that. I do wonder about the quality sometimes, but I never wondered how they kept it.”

“Hmph.” Holo crossed her arms and for some reason looked at him with a reproachful stare. “Honestly, you always act like that.”

Holo’s fluffy tail deliberately swayed back and forth behind her. The thick fur never failed to keep him warm at night.

“…Don’t you always write down how much I support and nurture your tail?”

That was even doubly true for the main body it was attached to. Had she already forgotten how he treated her yesterday and the day before?

“You fool, ’tis not enough.”

When she said that, Lawrence could only shrug with a sigh.

“Anyway. I am practiced at caring for wheat, and the markets in both the village and the town have decided that ’tis a woman’s job.”

“So that’s why it’s called a ‘mixing girl.’”

Every job had its own responsibilities and its own territory. Even in towns that Lawrence thought he knew everything about, there were still some things that a man would never notice.

“I have heard that there are also songs to sing when mixing. Sounds delightful.”

She did not often join in on the festivities in the bathhouse, but Holo did sometimes sing and dance.

When he imagined her sticking her arm in a sack stuffed with wheat, humming cheerfully as she did so, Lawrence found it endearing.

“Don’t let your guard down and start wagging your tail.”

“I am not a dog!”

As Holo glared at him, their hands intertwined, they made their way down to the port.

After inquiring from people on the street at the port, they headed to a district lined with warehouses where they would most likely find the work in question, and sure enough, among the many cargo handlers and merchants, there were a few women here and there. Lawrence had also noticed that there were women about when he visited the harbor, of course, but it never crossed his mind what sort of work they might be doing.

Being a mixing girl apparently required wearing short sleeves, even in the middle of winter, so when he saw that all the women were wearing short sleeves, he only felt embarrassed at how clueless he was.

“Ah, will you be working, miss?”

After asking people passing by on the street, they met a little old man, gripping a pen, who supervised the mixing girl work at the notary office by the warehouses.

He seemed like a regular kind old man at first, but they could see countless scars on his skin, which had been terribly weathered by the sun, and the bones in his fingers were unusually fat. He was likely well-known as a cargo handler and had shouldered the processing of goods when he was younger.

“We’re always in need of more people this time of year. Have you handled wheat before, miss?”

“Should you ask me to produce buds on any stalk of wheat, I would be able to do so straightaway, given that it is not cooked.”

Holo the Wisewolf, who resided in wheat and controlled its harvest, really could do that, but the old man of reception of course only smiled.

“How promising. Then I’ll have you start work right away. Oh, but roll up your sleeves, please. That is your uniform for this work. All the other short-sleeved girls will come to your aid if they see you wrapped up in trouble with any of the cargo handlers.”

“Aye.”

As Lawrence watched Holo gleefully roll up her sleeves, he felt the old man’s gaze on him.

“And are you here to help with the cargo, sir? You seem like you can read and write, so maybe transcribing work. We have plenty of both.”

Lawrence was flustered, having the conversation suddenly turn to him.

“Er, I…”

He also had plenty of work to do. He had to sell the sulfur powder that he had accepted in Nyohhira, and he had to obtain the small change that they lacked.

“Hmm? Oh, pardon me, you’re not married, are you?”

“Uh, well—”

Just as Lawrence was about to answer, Holo butted in.

“This fool spends his days drunk in the room whilst making only me work.”

“Hey!”

He had been writing letters and such to different companies, so he definitely was not just lazing about. He was sipping on mead as he worked, however, so he was afraid of the consequences if he said anything strongly in retort.

“Oh-ho. Well, everyone has their tastes, so I won’t blame you for falling for a layabout, but it will be hard work for you.”

“Aye. I am well aware.”

When Holo and the old man with his missing tooth smiled at each other, Lawrence could do nothing but sigh.

“Well, most of the mixing girls are like that. That goes without saying, though.”

“Well, what can I say. The more of a handful they are, the more fun it is.”

The old man made a vexed smile and then called on the next girl in line behind them.

“And so I shall work admirably.”

“Sure.”

Lawrence responded with a sigh, and Holo gave a delightfully bright smile.

Working as a mixing girl seemed to suit Holo’s personality well. Plenty of different kinds of wheat came from all over to the port, and just looking at it was enjoyable enough for her, so it was even more so when she was mixing and learning new things. Wheat husks stuck to her fluffy tail, Holo cheerfully wrote about her work as she spoke to Lawrence right up until she fell asleep.

Then, on the night of the second day, she also started to talk about the other mixing girls she worked with. There was, of all people, a traveling dancer who had also worked in Nyohhira, and they were surprised to see each other. There still were no guests in Nyohhira at this time of year, so she was earning a little pocket change in the meanwhile.

Of course, most of the women who worked as mixing girls were locals, and most of them were either poor or widows. Though it was a given, one could not make a whole lot of money mixing wheat.

Men could not take on this job in order to guarantee work for women who had nowhere else to make money, and it was also so the women did not end up on the wrong path and in ruin.

That being said, just as the old man at reception had mentioned, Holo said there were plenty who had ended up as mixing girls after finding themselves in ruin. Their romantic partners were good-for-nothings who had everything taken away from them by either alcohol or gambling.

“’Tis much like me.” Holo had pretended to cry and then flapped her tail about happily. She was in the best mood whenever she got to tease Lawrence like that.

It was the third day, when he saw her off as she energetically made her way to work at the port.

Holo’s joke wasn’t entirely wrong, Lawrence thought to himself at the herring egg exchange.

“What is the meaning of this? They’re closing the exchange?!”

Merchants yelled and the building shook. It was only times like this that he was not given any food or drink and simply stared hard at the board showing the prices of herring eggs.

Lawrence had come to the exchange because just after he had written a letter to a friendly company in the room, a member of the Debau Company came to give him the news.

He had been told that there was a problem with the herring egg exchange.

He rushed over after hearing that and found the whole place in confusion with talk over the exchange closing and everyone bellowing in rage at one another.

“God forbids fortune-telling. And gambling is nothing more than fortune-telling.”

Standing there in the exchange, where great sums of money and greed flew back and forth, were several people who seemed completely out of place.

They were priests, clad in clerical robes.

“What’s happening here is the exchange of herring eggs—not gambling!”

Someone yelled and a whole group of merchants surrounded the priests and glowered at them. Yet—no, because of that, the five or so priests did not recoil, keeping their dignified stances, and then spoke.

“How peculiar. You are conducting trade over herring eggs that do not yet exist here. That is no different from reading omens of the future.”

The one who spoke with clear-cut logic was a young man who seemed to be the very picture of seriousness.

Judging by his clothes, he seemed to be a head pastor. His position was rather high for how old he looked, so he was either extremely talented or a young person given a step up into the world by the Church to match the impending reforms.

The ones around him, supporting him, were middle-aged priests.

“I have also heard that one of you here has never taken part in an actual deal with herring eggs—is that correct?”

When he said that, Lawrence could feel the merchants swallowing their words regretfully.

No one in this building had ever seen herring eggs before. They had no interest in the real goods and had come from so far away only because the price fluctuated so violently, making it the perfect article to speculate on.

They must have thought somewhere in those heads of theirs that they were doing something strange, so they understood that it looked even weirder from the outside.

“But this system is so old and important because it supports the lives of the fishermen who live in the northern islands!” a clever one yelled, and everyone around him agreed.

“And it’s normal for merchants to buy and sell products that don’t exist yet! We always forward-buy wheat, grapes, and other fruit! If you’re going to criticize us for never touching herring eggs in real life, then what do you think of mines?! Merchants who pay for zoning for mines will never actually pick up a pickax and go there themselves! Why do only we deserve to be called gamblers?!”

A piercing applause rippled through the room.

Despite the mass of enraged merchants who surrounded them, the expressions on the priests’ faces did not budge an inch. There was a rigidness that showed so much adherence to faith that just looking at them was refreshing.

“It is a question of fairness.”

The young man’s quiet voice had a strange force that made all the merchants recoil.

His manner reminded Lawrence so much of Col, who had debated with theologists so many times in the Nyohhira bathhouse.

“Some among you will earn an enormous fortune here in this exchange. But all those who catch the herring, process it, and transport it will never gain a matching amount of money without ever shedding a single drop of sweat. Then I cannot say anything but that there is something wrong with what is happening here.”

Many of the merchants widened their eyes, spurred on by the impulse to jeer, but pulled their lips tightly shut, their faces red and their blue veins bulging from their temples.

Lawrence understood this logically.

The herring egg exchange was simply nothing more than gambling for the rich.

As the merchants and the priests continued their silent staring contest, a calm voice interjected.

“But it serves its uses to the town.”

It was a skinny merchant with a beard that was half-white and half-black.

He seemed to be upper-middle class, but his demeanor exuded a calm that had a strange power to it.

“Because of the herring egg exchange, many merchants gather here in town, stay here, and pay whatever it takes to stay. And because of the herring egg exchange happening here, the fishermen of the north prioritize distributing their herring. If the herring egg exchange moved elsewhere, all the work surrounding herring would move there. They say that the very town of Atiph itself was an operation of herring egg exchanges at its foundation. This tradition supports the town.”

Someone yelled, “Exactly!” and then came the cries of agreement and the eruption of applause.

Even if they had come to right the wrongs of this place, they worked for the church in Atiph, maintaining buildings with the townspeople’s donations, making furniture, and hiring people. And in every town, either openly or secretly, the Church had a hand in trade. There was no way that a priest could harm the energy of a town. It was because of that cunningness that the Church had branches all over the world, more than any massive firm.

The merchant who spoke calmly, as well as the others who heard him speak, were sure of that fact. Along that train of thought, perhaps the priests were going to stir things up by presenting the rules and principles of faith and then trying to take taxes or something from the exchange.

When Lawrence heard nearby merchants whispering about that, he thought that was obvious.

He had always been astonished by the priests’ business sense when he had been a traveling merchant.

He thought it would be the same thing this time, but the priest said something unbelievable.

“In order to conform with the spirit of God, we at the ecclesiastical chapter have decided to close this exchange to keep the town from becoming a bed of vice.”

The whole room fell quiet, like water had been dumped on it, and nobody bellowed in anger this time.

“We have recognized everything happening in this exchange as corrupt fortune-telling and gambling and moneylending that is considered sacrilegious under God.”

The merchants’ mouths hung open.

Were these priests for real? Were they really planning on unrooting this money tree and tossing it from the town? The Church, who was already dirtied with money? What for?

As everyone expressed their voiceless confusion, the previous merchant opened his mouth. Even his voice had gotten stiffer, perhaps because of the shock.

“…Many in town will oppose the closing of the herring egg exchange. Do you understand how much in earnings the town will lose because of this?”

The young priest, his expression so serious that it was almost terrifying, spat, “The majority of the townsfolk are not the kind to gamble gold and silver with a straight face like you. They sweat, work reliably, and earn their coppers. This town is being supported by their honest labor. And many of the townsfolk see you as corrupt merchants.”

The merchants got the message that he was being serious.

No one spoke, so the young priest continued.

“And is there anything more important in this world than correct faith?”

To think a place so steeped in greed as this would end up having to hear a sermon.

The merchants did not bother hiding their looks of disgust.

But no one openly opposed the priest.

That was because they were merchants, and they were especially sensitive to the trends of the times.

“This town had also forgotten God’s teachings until not too long ago. But we have taken back the correct faith. We will repent. God will forgive even your sins.”

The trend of society was the Church and the reform of faith.

The townsfolk also agreed with that. That was why the feasts were all shut down.

But even if this place was closed, a place to exchange herring eggs was still absolutely necessary. It would be a hassle to move it, but it did not mean they would no longer be able to trade forever.

When the young priest saw the merchants flip the switches in their heads and start thinking about the next thing, he spoke.

“Therefore, in accordance with God’s teachings, the ecclesiastical chapter has decided to confiscate all the dirty money that has been gambled with from this nest of vice.”

“What?!”

Everyone looked up, and there were a handful who stood from their chairs.

No matter what they were told, even if their gambling place was shut down, there was one thing that merchants, even the ones who were well-behaved when their scales were balanced, would not tolerate.

And that was the forceful seizure of their gold and silver.

That was the only thing they would never stand for. That was the one territory where no one should tread.

Here, especially, there were many who put great sums of money on the line. They were placing their fates on money that was greater than the sum of their parts.

It was when the atmosphere was fully charged and in danger of erupting that something astonishing happened.

“But God always forgives you. If you are to repent at the church, then you will be granted a pardon for your sins as well as the return of your purified money.”

It was an old trick of the Church to offer a chance to repent after announcing a severe punishment. By flashing goodwill after a hefty price, they bought favors from others. They said they would return the money they took, yet there was no doubt that they would take part as prayer charges or something of the sort. But still, it was absolutely better than losing everything.

He could almost hear the sounds of the abaci clicking in all the merchants’ heads.

“The townspeople see your corrupt gambling as an act of turning away from God. Do you still plan on continuing your trade, even when the townsfolk of such a faithful village look at you with such contempt?”

Now, as the search for correct faith was gaining momentum, merchants who used lavish amounts of money in fishy gambling such as this herring egg exchange had awful reputations.

The Church listened to the people’s reports and saw this as a good opportunity.

They could penalize the merchants, and they could also show the townsfolk how they worked.

It seemed like the outcome was already decided.

“…When will you give our money back?” someone asked.

The young priest gave a kind smile, one he would show in morning prayer.

It was, somehow, reminiscent of Col.

“In just two days from now, we will hold a mass in celebration of the arrival of a painting of the Twilight Cardinal, who lit the fires of correct faith in this town and in this world, and of Saint Myuri, who supports him. Come to this event.”

Most of the merchants seemed to accept that was what they had to do, but Lawrence was among some who looked upset.

And he knew well why the merchants shared that expression with him.

“Confess your sins to the church and pray, and God will offer protection for your trade.”

The young priest smiled with benevolence and spoke not with any irony or sarcasm but as though he was truly praying for the merchants’ souls.

But when Lawrence imagined that, he broke out in an unpleasant sweat. He was not of a heretical faith that worshipped toads or anything like that. He was fine with the idea of bowing his head at the Church to get his money back. Faithful or not, he was a former merchant who had done this many times before.

But the problem was that he had many acquaintances in this town.

The majority of the people with clouded looks were likely local merchants. Nobody would be happy to be seen as an idiot by their trading partners.

Also, Holo had also been invited to the unveiling of the painting. When he imagined himself staggering forth for a confession in order to get the money back from a failed transaction that he had kept secret from her, he felt dizzy. He had no idea how much she was going to taunt him and how annoyed she would be with him.

Not only that, looking down at his foolish self would be none other than a painting of his daughter, Myuri, and the boy who may as well be his son, Col!

Lawrence did not listen to any of the details afterward and staggered out of the herring egg exchange.

He knew he had to do something about it, but he pretty much already had his answer. The money he had gambled was not enough to rock their foundation, but he could not have just thrown away several weeks’ worth of hard work for his own pride given how hard Holo was working.

More importantly, just after he had decided he would give up on the gambling money and not go to the confession, he had no confidence in himself to hide it all from her. She had an unusually sharp intuition when it came to these things.

So instead of having her sniff it out and expose him, he would rather tell her himself.

That was all he could think of.

But…Lawrence groaned in a murmur.

Unlike gambling with dice, the herring egg exchange had a limit on its losses. If it went well, then he would strike it rich, but if it went badly, then the losses would not be too terrible.

He had no idea there would be a pitfall like this one…He almost wanted to curse God himself, but he was a little late in remembering that these sorts of things came with trade.

Lawrence stood frozen at the port, looking up to the sky, and sighed.

He wanted to drink until he blacked out.

Holo came home that day, wheat husks clinging to her hair and tail. Lawrence plucked the husks off her tail as she cheerfully told him about what had happened.

She gleefully hummed the working tunes she learned and did not seem to notice the fool and how he was acting strange, but that could not be the case. She must have realized and was acting normal regardless.

Unable to bear the pressure, Lawrence finally confessed when Holo turned her back to him, asking him to massage her shoulders.

But unlike times before, almost all the money he gambled away would come back to him, and there would be no enormous damages to their business in the future. The biggest loss would probably be how she would tease him when they placed orders.

And above all, he had made the bet for Holo’s sake.

He did not have to explain it in detail for Holo to understand that right away.

That was why she did not raise her brows, or bare her fangs, or call him a fool.

Holo only sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at Lawrence with a quiet gaze as he sat searching his conscience on the floor.

Lawrence could only hang his head.

It was practically the same as training a dog.

“Honestly…I feel like I am scolding Myuri right now.”

When Holo spoke with a sigh, Lawrence finally lifted his head.

“I always say how much she is like you.”

Both he and Holo always fought over who the mischievous Myuri most resembled, and he now renewed his understand of his own faults.

“I’m ashamed.”

Holo briefly glanced at Lawrence before giving another deep sigh.

She then slid off the bed and stood before him.

“You are the same as that restless, idiotic pup. Sniff-sniff, something smells good, better jump at it!”

Unable to deny it, Lawrence turned away in shame.

Holo then crept closer, so he had no choice but to look at her.

As her red eyes peered at him, he thoughtlessly marveled at how beautiful they were.

He would never want his daughter to see him like this.

Holo stood up and scratched her head. Her annoyed demeanor was not directed toward him but was entirely self-deprecating.

“Honestly, I cannot believe I fell for something like this.”

Holo tilted her head and gave one last big sigh.

Lawrence hung his head again, and she said, “But dogs have their own way of being useful.”

“Huh?”

He lifted his head, and she had extended a hand to him.

She was telling him to stand.

He gripped her hand and, with a puzzled look, stood.

“My work friends have been sighing over losing their jobs.”

“Work friends?”

When he asked, Holo’s ears flitted about, displeased.

“The mixing girls.”

“Oh, right…And?”

It might have had something to do with the herring egg exchange.

Holo folded her arms across her chest and said with an earnest look, “Some of us, like the dancing girl and me, have come to this town by chance, but most of them are poor girls from town. They are all good-natured and honest workers.”

“Right, okay.”

Holo did not often compliment others, so Lawrence was rather surprised.

“And…it seems we all have similar taste in males.”

When she said that, she looked away in disgust.

Now that she mentioned it, the old man who managed the girls’ work had said something similar. Most of the women had found themselves working as mixing girls because they had fallen in love with scoundrels.

“Anyway, I cannot ignore them. I was just thinking about talking to you about the place you mentioned.”

“…The…herring egg exchange?”

“Aye. The girls receive a good bit of work from them. They will find themselves in trouble if it was to shut down. It was chaos when we received the news.”

He looked at her to confirm, and she sighed and scratched the base of her ear.

“The cause is that whole commotion little Col and that fool Myuri started, no? If the girls lose their means of livelihood because of them, then I will be forced to give up the name of the wisewolf.”

Col had left on a journey to bring back correct faith into society, and Myuri left right behind him. Myuri looked like she was admirably supporting Col in the Church’s painting, but Lawrence doubted she would be okay with such a minor role, so he figured that she had a big responsibility for it, too.

In that case, it was their role as her parents to get rid of as many adverse effects as they could.

That was honest Holo’s way of thinking.

“But I do not know much about the human world. That sort is your territory.”

Holo was strict with Lawrence, calling him an idiot and whatnot, but she did trust in his core. A fire lit in his heart because that made him happy, and because it was a good chance for him to recover from disgrace.

“Can you tell me more?”

What Holo told him about were the stories of those who worked at the very bottom, something not a lot of people saw.

Those at the exchange likely had no intentions of ever learning how they were related to the mixing girls, and without a doubt, the people of the Church were the same. And so that meant they were also among the privileged, unable to see who was standing under them.

“What do you think? Could you be of help?”

When he looked at Holo, who had ended up connecting with people she had worked with for only such a short time and felt pain for, Lawrence’s heart hurt as well.

But he placed his hands on her slim shoulders.

He might now be a clumsy bathhouse owner, but he was still a notorious merchant who had once even captivated a wolf who was called the wisewolf.

“I can.”

Holo’s face immediately beamed. There originally used to be a dark light in Holo’s eyes, when she had spent her days without any thanks, forgotten in a village wheat field, thinking only of her home.

Lawrence had taken her hand and brought her on a big journey in order to bring light into her beautiful red eyes.

He remembered how young he had been over a decade ago and said, “I’m a merchant. I’ll earn my losses back.”

He would also recover from getting involved in a stupid deal that only annoyed Holo.

Holo smiled, exasperated at his enthusiasm.

“You are the male I fell for. I should be embarrassed if you fell and got up for free.”

Exactly.

And as long as he had what Holo had told him, it was entirely possible that they could deal with it.

“Well, then.”

“Yeah,” Lawrence said. “The one stupid thing I have to avoid is repentance in front of that picture of Myuri.”

Holo burst out in laughter, raised a single eyebrow in annoyance, and then patted Lawrence on the back.

The first part of their groundwork would be laid down at none other than the herring egg exchange.

Lawrence wanted the Church to withdraw their decision, but it might turn out to be that most merchants would not like the thought of stirring up trouble with the Church. It was sensible to think that it was fine to let sleeping dogs lie as long as they got their betting money back.

On top of that, it had been a while since Lawrence had negotiated with a merchant, so with out-of-character nervousness, he made his way to the exchange.

“Are you in charge of this exchange?”

There were only a few merchants in the now-empty exchange, and among them was the man who had written down Lawrence’s bet in the book.

“I have an idea regarding the Church’s high-handedness.”

The man’s eyes widened when Lawrence spoke, and he grinned.

“It’s nice to see someone with a backbone. Everyone else just shrugged and walked away…But in that case, the boss’s over there. We’re not an association or anything, so no one’s really taking control, but…if he says anything, most merchants will listen.”

The man was pointing to an aging merchant, the one who had dealt with the priests in a calm manner.

“He’s a former big shot of the Ruvik Alliance. He’s retired now, but he ran several long-distance transport ships at the height of his career, and people called him Governor-General.”

The Ruvik Alliance was the world’s largest trade association, and a dozen or so trading cities were a part of it.

While Lawrence was surprised that someone so important was in a place like this, the man now sat alone at a table, listlessly sipping his drink. He was almost like a pouting child who had his toy taken away.

Lawrence felt an affinity for his state.

He was surely a merchant deep at his core, someone who could not separate himself from the charm of trade even after retirement.

“Pardon me. May I?”

Lawrence approached the table and spoke out to him, and the man looked at him with quiet eyes.

“Do you have an idea to deal with this situation?”

He had good ears, and he did not look down on Lawrence.

He was happy to hear the genuine merchantlike response, one that asked him to speak so long as he proved useful.

“I’ve already tried a gift.”

A former executive of a massive company would unsurprisingly suggest bribery right at the start.

“But the Church is right in the middle of enacting reform, so they cut me off. That young man seems to think of himself as the Twilight Archbishop.”

He had no idea how badly this man had been burned by the greedy Church, but it was inconvenient enough that the miracle potion of money did not work when it needed to.

“They even turned down the idea of paying a tax. It seems like they really marched in here only because they thought it was a problem of faith. They’re closing down this fun playground.”

The governor-general sighed and cracked his neck.

“We have no choice but to bow our heads like we’ve been told and take our betting money elsewhere.”

“But once you show submission, the next time something happens, you will be hit even harder and weakened even more. They might cut in even wherever you end up running to.”

There was a church no matter what town anyone went to in the world, and whether it was a relationship between people or between organizations, once one side started to show a habit for losing, the other would just drag them along. That was why the beginning was so critical.

“I’ve already tried all the old tricks now—do you have any ideas?”

The man’s light-blue eyes turned to him.

Lawrence readily greeted his gaze straight on and said, “Of course. At the end of the day, the people of the Church also live in a decorous world.”

“Hmm?”

“There are others we should be working with.”

There were some places that someone who had once been called Governor-General never saw, all because of his high point of view.

As Lawrence laid out the proposal that he and Holo had worked out, the great, aging merchant’s face immediately tensed, and when Lawrence was finished, he smacked himself on the forehead.

“They say the darkest area is right under the lighthouse! In all my forty years of trade, I’ve brought together the cargo handlers. But, right…there was still a gap between the company warehouse and the ship.”

Even Lawrence, who was of a much lower standing than him, did not know about such piecework systems.

That was because they had spent all their days out of the presence of women, so of course they would not know of territory belonging only to them.

“After getting the mixing girls together and on our side, I would like to go negotiate with the Church along with a few other suggestions. We should have a fair chance of success, but does everyone else here agree?”

If all that came back to him was his betting money, Lawrence would not particularly care for the longevity of the exchange, but when he thought about saving the mixing girls Holo worked with, then his only option was to keep the exchange running.

“Wait. Let me do some quick math in my head…Right, it would be cheaper than paying taxes to the Church. The best thing is that we won’t be bowing down to them. This is an excellent exchange, and not one begging for forgiveness. An exchange means talk of profit and loss, and talk of profit and loss means everyone will probably easily accept it, and I’ll keep that lot from going on and on. They won’t get to close down our playground!”

The governor-general stood and gallantly extended his hand like a man of the sea.

“I won’t stop making money until the day I die. Are you the same?”

Lawrence grasped his hand and said, “My wife always tells me to give it a rest.”

The governor-general grinned like a pirate, though his expression returned to a prim one just a moment later.

“But I think I want something to just give it a little more oomph. Whatever excuses we may have, it doesn’t look like a fancy place of prayer in here.”

Perhaps because of the strange excitement that came with betting exorbitant amounts of money, there were odd decorations all over the exchange.

The dried herring hanging from the ceiling was one of them, and there was the crest of the Church wrapped in fishing net hanging on the wall, and stylized wooden figurines of every patron saint they could think of—from the patron saint of sailors to the one of childbirth—were hammered into the wall.

And on the opposite wall was a black-and-white painting of a massive herring carrying eggs butting heads with a massive sardine. It looked like there was water splashing all around them, but on a closer look, it was obvious that it was silver coins. To put it modestly, it looked like a place to pray for victory in battle for a tribe.

But when Lawrence looked around at all of it, he had an idea.

It is all for the sake of the exchange.

“We might have to alter some things. For example…”

Merchants would not get up for free if they fell.

Once he was done filling in the various details with the governor-general, they called a meeting with all the forever-gambling merchants.

Lawrence immediately headed to the warehouses in the harbor, and they had a talk with the mixing girls who Holo had brought together. There was no way, of course, that they would turn down the idea. With an energy that put the cargo handlers to shame, they agreed.

But it would be dangerous if they proceeded without any recourses, so Lawrence devised another plan and made it the secret ingredient.

He would need Holo’s cooperation and the connections he had fostered at the bathhouse.

The following day, the merchants all made a line and headed for the church of Atiph.

The townspeople were busy getting ready for the special mass that would be happening the following day outside the church doors.

“Is the Father in?”

Leading the pack was the most dignified of all of them, the governor-general.

His beard and hair had been stiffened with egg whites, and he had changed into clothes of the highest quality, starched so much that touching them might cause them to crack. It would not be odd if he went straight to attend the royal court.

And it was the way he acted, too.

The worker the governor-general spoke to was shocked, almost dropping the gold plating with which he was decorating the church doors. “Inside,” was all he said and removed his hat, perhaps mistaking him for a noble.

But his eyes widened even more when he saw who followed after the swarm of merchants.

The inside of the church was also in the midst of preparations, with scaffolding built up here and there, artisans doing their work on it. They made their way straight through the busy scene, walking boldly into the nave.

Beneath the high ceiling, which seemed like it might suck them up into the air, right in the middle of a red carpet laid out on the aisle, stood the high-ranking priests, seemingly talking about where they would hang their new painting.

“Oh, it’s you…”

The one who turned around was the young priest who had been teased as the Twilight Archbishop.

He looked around at all the merchants, and his gaze turned into a stern one.

“If this is about yesterday, then everything is already settled. And we will not be misled by anything but the blessings of—”

He likely thought they had all come to bribe him again. As the young priest was about to ramble on, the governor-general raised a hand to stop him.

“No. We have been touched by your faith, Father, and we have opened our eyes. And so we have also decided that we would like to follow the scripture and act in accordance with God’s will.”

“…Which means?”

There came a clearing of the throat.

“Yes, God said that we must share what we have. And so we have decided that we will serve free meals at the exchange to all the more unfortunate who have a hand in the herring trade.”

The young priest raised his eyebrows and turned to look at the senior priests beside him.

“That is an admirable way of thinking, but…”

“Indeed, of course, I cannot ask you something so selfish as to keep the exchange open in this town for that alone. We will follow the holy decision that both you and the chapter have come to.”

But all the merchants had come silently to this meeting, so there was no way it could be nothing.

After the priests whispered to one another, the young priest spoke as their representative.

“Then why have you come?”

“We have come to lead the way for some lost lambs.”

“What?”

“These are the ones who have words for you.”

The merchants then stepped to either side, creating a path all the way to the entrance to the nave.

The priests looked down the path with quizzical expressions.

There stood the mixing girls in their short sleeves and with husks of wheat clinging to their arms.

“Father, do you ever wonder how the wheat from far away that ends up as your wafers gets to this town and goes into the oven?”

“Wheat…What?”

The priests, with their pale skin hardly ever touched by the sun and their thin, delicate fingers, as well as the well-dressed, intellectual young priest, of course, were all flustered. They had likely been learning Church law ever since they were children, so they had rarely ever come into contact with wider society.

“The grains are cut, stuffed into bags, carried by cart, packed into ships, and taken on a long, long road. But there are the unseen who fill in the gaps of that series of processes. Those are these girls. If these girls did not come diligently to mix the wheat every morning and night once it is stuffed into bags and put away in the warehouses, it would soon grow moldy, and disease would creep into the bread we eat every day.”

When the governor-general gave his message, the mixing girls all elegantly bowed. Such polite etiquette shone brilliantly against the worn-out clothing they wore.

“Father.” The governor-general stepped forward and kneeled before the priests.

His act, resembling a noble confessing his faith, looked like it belonged in a play at a festival.

“We certainly are greedy merchants. That is something I cannot deny. But these women are different. They support the livelihood of the people of this town from places unseen, and I believe they are the very ones who should be bathed in the light of God.”

“Er…um…?”

The priest gave a confused nod and turned to look at the women.

They were all grasping the Church crests before their chests. Their gazes were trained downward and they looked so devout, their actions stirring up sympathy to anyone watching.

“B-but, but so? I understand who they are, but how are they related to you? You…deal with herring eggs, right? Do they not mix wheat?”

When the priest asked, the eyes of the great merchant who was the governor-general glinted.

“Wheat is a seasonal item, which means there are times of the year in which they are not mixing wheat. Once they’ve delivered the wheat for winter sowing, do you know what they will be mixing instead?”

“Huh? N-no…”

The governor-general then said, “Herring eggs.”

That was the reason why Holo asked for Lawrence’s help after catching wind of the problem from the other girls. At the herring egg exchange, there were merchants who watched the bets until the very end, separate from the merchants who took part in it. It was because of these merchants, who collected the herring eggs, that the fishermen brought the herring to this town. And much like wheat, herring eggs could not simply sit in barrels and be okay.

Many merchants did not know that, and of course there was no way for the clergy to know that, since they had never eaten herring eggs before, which was why they so easily said they were going to close the exchange.

“There are two kinds of exchanges when it comes to herring eggs. That is simply because there are two kinds of herring eggs that are being dealt with.”

“O-oh?”

“First, the dried eggs. Sunny days are necessary to dry them, and the girls work hard every day to do just that as well as mixing and managing them—and that is why they never spoil.”

“O-oh…”

“Next, there are salted eggs. Herring eggs are used as bait to lure in sardines in the southern sea, and the salted ones bring in more bites than the dried ones. That is why those sell for a much higher price, but they are also a handful to manage. Imagine a large barrel full of salt water with herring eggs steeped in it. These frail girls take paddles much too big for them and mix them around countless times in one day. O, Father, please have mercy. They work so hard every day so that it is not just this town but all the people of the south who may have sardines on their humble dinner tables.”

The priest had nothing to interject against the governor-general’s fluid speech.

Then Lawrence, just as he had done in their meeting beforehand, made a slight signal with his hand.

One of the mixing girls who received his signal promptly dropped to her knees.

“If you pity us, then please lend us your hand so that the herring may find their way here to this town in the future…”

After her emotional plea, the rest of the girls kneeled on the spot, and they all chanted in chorus.

““Please have mercy on us…””

With the unfortunate girls pleading before them, the priests, who had turned the exchange into a scapegoat for the sake of asceticism and fairness, were at a loss for words. Without the exchange, all the transactions surrounding herring would also vanish from the town. Namely, it would be taking away the women’s livelihood.

But when Lawrence estimated that the hardheaded young priest would say, What is evil is evil, Lawrence leaned over and whispered to him.

“Father, a lake looks like it has clear water because all the dirt has thickly accumulated at the bottom.”

“Wh—?”

“They say that clear water will not breed fish.”

The governor-general whispered into his other ear.

“Again, we vow to offer meals to the poor…day workers like the mixing girls, for example; to redo the inside; and to turn the exchange into a place where we will never forget our faith. Of course”—the governor-general puffed out his chest—“we have heard your scolding, Father, and have awoken to our faiths. Proof of your skill as a priest will live on in the exchange for generations to come.”

One could not save up money in heaven, but one could save up one’s virtues. So even if they did not take a monetary bribe, a different sort of potion should be able to work on the priests—that was the plan that Lawrence had come up with.

But the priest’s mouth was pursed tightly shut and his face tense, wondering if there was something wrong about this. Perhaps he was being tricked by the merchants’ eloquence.

Just to make doubly sure, the governor-general pulled out a single piece of paper from his breast pocket and showed it to the priest.

“This is what we are planning on changing the inside to look like, by the way. We are hoping to have the figure standing here be you, Father.”

The priest’s eyes widened, and he almost unconsciously turned to look behind him.

What he was looking at were men, ropes wrapped around their bodies and suspended from the ceiling, trying to hang up a painting.

There was a sketch of a painting on the paper that the governor-general produced.

It was a very stereotypical religious image, like the painting of Col and Myuri that the church was planning on putting up.

There was a mountain of herring in the background, with the merchants and the mixing girls piously on their knees, praying. It was none other than the young priest who was leading the men and women on a path to heaven.

The governor-general calling the young priest the Twilight Archbishop was the correct indication.

Lawrence knew that well, since he had cared for Col since he was a child.

This young man was clearly trying to copy Col.

“What do you think, Father?”

The young priest snapped back to reality.

“Oh, uh…um…”

The young priest, now floundering, looked to the older priests for their judgment, but they had been taken up by other merchants discussing this and that. No one outclassed greedy merchants when it came to sweet-talking priests.

“Father?”

The governor-general asked a second time, and the young priest’s eyes darted from him to Lawrence and to the mixing girls.

And finally, he painfully closed his eyes.

“…I…understand…I will retract my orders. The exchange will remain open…”

When he said that, the mixing girls rejoiced more than anyone else; they stood and cheered.

The priest still seemed somewhat perplexed, but he could not take it back now.

And it was clear that his gaze was glued to the draft of the picture.

“B-by the way…”

“Yes?”

The priest spoke softly, losing his nerve beneath the governor-general’s kind smile.

“Will it obviously be me?”

It was hard to live a life entirely devoid of desire.

That was why Lawrence and merchants like him existed in this world.

“Of course.”

When the governor-general said that, he pulled the young priest into a detailed chat about the picture. It looked exactly like a snake catching a mouse, but Lawrence decided not to let that bother him.

It seemed like things had reached a settlement, so he gave a tired sigh of relief and made his way toward the entrance of the nave.

Both young and old, all the mixing girls held one another’s hands in joy.

Then the dancing girl, having noticed Lawrence, slipped to the front with an alluring carriage and embraced Lawrence in a fully theatrical manner.

“Oh, master!”

When the familiar dancing girl hugged him, Lawrence smiled wryly.

Of course, since the dancing girl danced in Nyohhira, she knew plenty about Spice and Wolf.

She quickly let go and pulled him toward his real owner.

“Why do you look so embarrassed?”

Holo stood before him and said exactly what she had promised she would say.

The mixing girls around them seemed to be enjoying it.

“The money I bet is coming back. Of course I’m embarrassed.”

When Lawrence said that, Holo lifted the hem of her skirt and kicked Lawrence’s legs.

It was a stock interaction between a strong-willed wife and a weak-willed husband that one often saw in street performances.

Lawrence smiled bitterly in response to the chuckling mixing girls, then took Holo and the dancing girl from the nave and to the aisle.

“But you really helped us out. Letting you write the outline for the whole show created something fantastic.”

Even though she had blended in completely with the other mixing girls not too long ago, her rustic clothes seemed just like a costume. She was a top-tier dancer, which likely meant she was also a fantastic actress. High-class guests gathered at Nyohhira, so competition was fierce.

“It’s nothing. I’ve had to entertain plenty of the stiff type like that in Nyohhira. Line delivery and favorable actions are my forte.”

Unlike Holo, the dancing girl gave a sensual smile.

The dancing girl had taken on the governor-general’s lines, his behavior, as well as directing how the mixing girls should act, especially since they did not know how to pray at a church.

Just as wheat passed through the hands of many on its way from the fields to the table, this turnabout drama was also the result of the help of many.

“And you will introduce me to that bearded merchant, right? He seems to have quite the assets.”

“Yes, of course.”

And the dancing girl asked for a price herself. It was a transaction of a good merchant.

“I need to have him buy me ermine fur before I start work in the winter.”

When she said that, her profile looked like that of a hunter.

As Lawrence wore a taut smile, there was a tug on his sleeve.

“Dear.”

Holo, who was wearing a triangular headkerchief and had her sleeves rolled up to work as a mixing girl, looked exactly like a local working woman. The image of her like this was so fresh, he found himself falling for her a little again.

“I am a bit peckish.”

The dancing girl got the message, gave a small smile, and then returned to the nave in order to rejoin the other mixing girls.

Lawrence gave a small sigh, took Holo’s hand, and left the church as everyone was hurriedly working for the event tomorrow.

“Honestly, I swear, perhaps we have cleaned up a bit of Myuri and little Col’s mess now,” Holo said, stretching out both her arms as though her shoulders were stiff, perhaps because she had been acting as a pure and faithful mixing girl.

“I didn’t end up losing the money I bet, so things are all settled,” Lawrence responded, squinting at the bright morning townscape before him.

“You never change…is what I would say, but ’twas what helped us this time.”

“I guess,” Lawrence responded and smiled.

An odd silence then fell between them.

Lawrence had realized that she had been acting strange for a little while now. Despite how she was blunt about many things, there were only an odd few she was reserved about.

But he found it cute when she was like this, so he pretended not to notice.

“Then should we grab a drink somewhere and head back to the room?” he proposed deliberately, and Holo’s head snapped up, as though she was returning to reality, and she gave a vague response of acknowledgment.

Lawrence stared at her and could not help but grin; Holo immediately widened her eyes.

“You are truly wicked!”

“Ha-ha, I don’t want to hear that from you.”

Lawrence laughed, and Holo violently smacked him on the arm.

She then grabbed his wrist and said, “And? What is it?”

She might get honestly angry with him if he teased her too much.

He obediently replied.

“They’re going to use you as a reference in the picture they’re painting for the exchange.”

Holo’s eyes widened, and her ears piqued, almost lifting up her headkerchief.

“I want you to praise my brainpower, since I was the one who suggested remodeling the exchange on a quick decision.”

He could not order a painting with his own money, but he could with others’.

There were plenty of massively rich people at that exchange who Lawrence barely held a candle to.

“And they said they’ll put me at the front of the praying merchants.”

When he said that, Holo stared at him blankly and almost missed a step on the stone staircase.

Lawrence hurriedly held her up before wrapping his arm around her back, tightening his arm as he spoke.

“They say that paintings painted with stucco will last for a hundred years. No matter how much time passes, if you come here in the future, you—”

Lawrence decided not to say the rest.

When Holo next came alone to this town to see the painting, Lawrence would not be alive.

There was no need to say that.

Instead, he said this:

“So, well, if there are any requests you want to make, now’s your chance.”

“…Sniff…O-oh?”

When Holo lifted her head, her eyes brimming with tears either from joy that they would both live on forever in a painting or perhaps because she thought about parting with Lawrence, he grinned at her.

“Like if you want your boobs to be bigger than Myuri’s picture.”

Holo, astonished, changed her expression in an instant like a magician and grabbed at Lawrence’s beard.

“You fool!”

Holo yelled out loud in front of the church as people came and went. Many immediately turned to stare at them, but when they saw a girl obviously dressed as a mixing girl arguing with an unpolished-looking merchant, it was a common sight for them. It was just a regular lovers’ quarrel—everyone returned to their work and their business.

Lawrence waited until they all looked away before turning back to the huffy Holo.

“I’m going to have them paint me a little younger, actually,” he responded, rubbing his beard after Holo had tugged on it.

Holo twisted a brow in annoyance, moved her mouth reproachfully as though she was calling him an idiot, but she said nothing in the end.

She instead gave a tired sigh and took Lawrence’s hand.

“You will be like that until you die, I see.”

It was unclear if she was complimenting him or not, so Lawrence had no choice but to answer so:

“You’re telling me that?”

“Hmph. I am like a stone that has traveled down a long river; I can get no rounder or smoother than I already am. There is nothing to fix here.”

“But you’ve found yourself in plenty of trouble clinging to food for that.”

“Pardon? You have no right to say that to me. You have gone to gambling again and hid it from me!”

“But it all turned out okay in the end, didn’t it? What’s so bad about that?”

“You fool, ’tis only because I was working as a mixing girl. Without me, you—”

Just as Holo was about to argue vehemently, Lawrence leaned over her and lifted her up on her side as though she was his new bride.

“Oh, right. Without you, I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere right about now, and I’d never want to travel alone ever again.”

Holo’s red eyes widened and stared at Lawrence.

And then, slowly, her expression softened.

“Fool.”

They were right in front of the church.

When Holo clung to Lawrence’s neck, the bell in the bell tower rang, signaling noontime, almost as though it were blessing them—

“Oh, ’tis noon. I would like meat for lunch.”

Holo immediately returned to her normal self and said that.

“…What happened to my innocent bride?”

When Lawrence asked, Holo shrugged and motioned for him to put her down.

Even though he had lifted her up, fully acting like they were just married, Lawrence was disappointed at Holo’s cold response, but he still put her down without much choice.

She cracked her neck, as though her shoulders were stiff, and then smiled at him dauntlessly.

“I was just hoping for a feast that rivals a wedding celebration.”

The nightmares he had of budgeting when they exchanged their vows came back to haunt him.

He thought about how he was human, and she was a wolf.

It was clear who was in charge here.

“Two silvers, max.”

When Lawrence said that, Holo leaped to cling to his arm like a frivolous girl.

“No need to be so stingy. Your bets always go well in the end, do they not? Oh, is that why you brought up sardines before?”

Holo the Wisewolf was so sharp when it came to things like that.

“…Three silvers.”

“Five.”

She did not show any hint of willingness to compromise.

But her tail was flicking back and forth happily.

Lawrence looked up to the sun and sighed.

“Fine, five.”

“Mmm!”

Holo responded with gusto and stretched.

“’Tis why you are my favorite, dearest.”

She then kissed him on the cheek. It was pleasant, but that cost him five silver.

All he could do was laugh it off as a bad bargain.

“I’m drinking, too. That’s five for both.”

“I’m sorry? You may drink with your payment.”

“Come on…”

As they conversed, Lawrence and Holo disappeared into the crowd. No matter how they were jostled about by the throng of people or how they hurled insults at each other, they still held on tightly to each other’s hands.

Their long-awaited journey had just begun.

That was an episode in a port town, under a clear sky and cool winds but with still a hint of summer left.