Spice and Wolf - Volume 4 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The first thing that came to Lawrence’s mind was a poisonous wheat known as Ridelius’s Hellfire.

If eaten, it rotted a victim’s limbs from the inside, and he or she would die screaming in agony. Even a small amount would cause terrible hallucinations and force a pregnant woman to miscarry.

The wheat was believed to come from demons who added fake black wheat to normal ears of wheat, and if it went unnoticed during the harvest and was ground into flour, it would become impossible to find.

No one would know the wheat was poison until someone ate it and developed symptoms.

To a farming village that raised wheat, its appearance was a calamity as bad as drought or flood.

The truly frightening thing about the wheat was not the suffering and death that it caused.

What made it so terrible was that when Ridelius’s Hellfire was discovered in a year’s harvest, none of the harvest could be eaten.

“And no one from our village has been poisoned?” asked Sem.

“I don’t think so, Elder. Grandma Jean is sick in bed, but it’s just a cold,” said a villager.

“The new wheat was used only to bake bread for the harvest festival, right? So at least we know the wheat we ground before that is safe.”

The large, flat rock in the village square seemed to be the place where the villagers met to discuss important matters.

The fire burned red as the sleepy-faced villagers rubbed their eyes and watched their leaders voice various opinions.

“Hakim said that a shoemaker ate bread made from wheat he bought from Riendott, then died. His limbs turned purple, and he suffered greatly. The Enberch Council soon found out that it was made with wheat from our village. Hakim rode back to Tereo right away, so he doesn’t know what happened after that, but we can guess. The feudal lord, Duke Badon, is sure to send a messenger to ensure the return of the wheat. We can expect an official envoy from Enberch at dawn, no doubt.”

“R-return the wheat…That means…”

At the innkeeper’s murmur, all gathered there in the circle fell silent.

It was Iima who finally spoke. She was one of the few women who had joined the gathering at the stone.

“It means we’ll have to return the money. Isn’t that right, Elder Sem?”

“…Yes.”

The villagers went pale at the pronouncement, clutching their heads.

Money used was money gone.

And most of the villagers did not seem likely to have been carefully saving their earnings.

There were a few, though, who did not clutch their heads in dread—Elder Sem, bar mistress Iima, and Elsa, along with the man who had delivered the letter to Sem during Lawrence’s first visit. And Lawrence and Holo, of course.

It was not because these people had savings or were especially brave, but rather because they were all capable of rationally thinking about the problem.

Seen from outside, it was a simple scenario to understand.

This wheat crisis was a play directed by Enberch.

“Elder, whatever shall we do? We’ve used the money to buy pigs and chickens and to repair our scythes and plows!”

“That’s hardly the whole of it. This year’s harvest was abundant, so our tavern laid in fine food and drink. If our money went into such purchases, that means yours did as well,” said Iima.

All who had drunk too much the night before now unavoidably hung their heads in regret.

Iima’s words only deepened their shame. She turned to Sem. “But, Elder—that’s not the only problem, is it?” Iima, the woman who had hauled a brewing pot about on her back, selling her ale as she traveled, was an imposing figure indeed.

“Indeed not. Once poison wheat is mixed in with the real wheat, the whole harvest is lost. This year’s harvest was great—but last year’s was not.”

Once wheat had been sown and harvested, bringing in triple the sown amount was acceptable. Quadrupling the amount was an excellent harvest. Once the next year’s seed grain was removed, the amount set aside in case of a poor harvest was limited.

It was possible that the villagers had already eaten last year’s reserve, having counted on this year’s good harvest.

In any case, the village’s food supply was in dire straits.

And they had no money with which to buy new wheat.

“What shall we do? Poverty is bearable but not starvation!”

“Indeed. However, I—” Sem was going to continue speaking, but he was interrupted when a man next to the innkeeper stood suddenly and pointed at Lawrence and Holo.

“They’re the ones who mixed poison wheat in with the harvest! I asked him, and he admitted to bringing wheat in! He’s here to ruin our harvest and then force us to buy his wheat!”

Lawrence had imagined this would happen.

He also knew that Sem had not brought him and Holo to the square out of malice.

The elder had known there was a good possibility that if Lawrence and Holo were absent, the villagers would take weapons in hand and go searching for them with suspicion and doubt in their hearts.

“Th-that must be it! He went to Evan’s all alone to grind his wheat! No, Evan’s in it with him, and they’re trying to destroy the village!”

“Aye, it’s Evan! Where did that lying miller scum go? Let’s tie them up together and make them tell us which wheat they poisoned!”

The villagers stood up one after another, ready to pounce on Lawrence.

Suddenly Elsa took a step forward and spoke. “Please wait.”

“This is no time for women to interrupt. Get back!”

“Excuse me?” Iima now stood beside Elsa; she was fully three times the size of the smaller girl. The men cringed, their spirits somewhat cowed.

Elder Sem cleared his throat as if to settle things for a moment. “Evan is in the church. We can assign blame later. What is important right now is the wheat that may be returned and the money they’re sure to ask for.”

“We can’t pay with money we don’t have! We’ll have to ask them to wait until next…”

“If only it were so simple.”

The men were stunned at the elder’s words. “Elder, what…what do you mean?”

“Enberch will surely use this as an opportunity to restore the old arrangement,” he said.

“Surely not…”

The faces of the older men among the gathering were full of bitterness.

“What are you saying, Elder? Enberch isn’t allowed to do anything to this village! Father Franz has already made it so!”

Lawrence didn’t know whether Sem had not explained the nature of Enberch’s relationship to the village or whether the men simply didn’t want to understand it, but he soon found out.

“Anyway, we should never have allowed Elsa to inherit Father Franz’s position! Enberch will never respect that!”

“Quite so! She spends all day in that church, never once coming out to work the fields—though she eats her share of bread, ’tis sure. Everyone knows it was thanks to Lord Truyeo’s blessings that the harvest was so good this year. How could some church girl—”

“Enough!” said Sem.

Uncertainty only fanned the flames of discontent.

They burned from the driest, most flammable places, then spread from there.

It was easy for Lawrence to imagine how hard the serious Elsa had worked to preserve Father Franz’s legacy.

Having cooperated with her, Sem would likewise have understood.

But it was all too plain from the villagers’ words how they regarded the girl.

Lawrence noticed Elsa’s clenched fists and her expressionless face.

“What shall we do, Elder?” someone asked.

“In any case, each of us must check to see how much harvest money we have yet, as well as how many provisions we’ve laid in for winter. Until the Enberch messenger arrives, we don’t know what they’ll demand. They may arrive as soon as daybreak. We should adjourn until then—each of you go now, and check as I’ve told you to.”

Though the men’s sighs were heavy and dissatisfied, they reluctantly stood.

The gazes that Lawrence and Elsa endured as the men left the meeting stone were full of resentment.

Though the villagers were unreasonable, it was fortunate that Elder Sem seemed to be their ally.

If Sem had been their enemy, then Lawrence would have had no choice but to ask for Holo’s help.

As the villagers dispersed, Sem approached Elsa, his staff in hand. “Elsa, I know this is hard but please endure.”

Elsa nodded silently. Sem next turned to Iima.

“Iima, please go with Elsa to the church. The angriest ones may attempt to break in.”

“You can count on me,” said Iima.

Lawrence immediately understood the power relationships within the village.

But where did that leave him and Holo?

“Mr. Lawrence,” Sem finally said, turning to face him. “Like the other villagers, I have my doubts about you. The timing is too coincidental. However, I hope you would not think me such a fool that I would immediately jump to a conclusion.”

“Were I in your place, Elder Sem, I would say the same thing,” replied Lawrence.

His old age made his brow constantly wrinkled, but he seemed slightly relieved. “Both for your own safety and to prevent suspicions from growing still deeper, I’m afraid I will have to ask you to come to my house.”

Holo and Lawrence were fortunate that he didn’t simply tie them up without any explanation. If they had resisted, it seemed to Lawrence that bloodshed would soon have followed.

He nodded cooperatively and walked toward Sem’s house behind Sem and the villagers.

“Y’know, there’s a locked cell somewhere in that village,” the rumor would go once everyone’s tongues were sufficiently loosened by wine.

It happened after the merchant in question had drunk too much and told all of his tales of profit.

Once he was told of more money to be made, he was all too happy to follow the villagers into the elder’s house, only to be locked in a cell, never to escape.

As long as none of the villagers spoke of the event, no one would ever know what happened to the merchant.

His belongings were all sold off, and the merchant himself was offered up as a sacrifice for a good harvest.

Strangely, rumors like these seemed to be more common around wealthier villages.

Fortunately, it did not seem like the sort of thing that was likely to happen in Tereo.

The room into which Lawrence and Holo were shown was quite ordinary. It was right next to the one in which Lawrence and Sem had spoken when the merchant first arrived in the village.

The door had no lock, and it seemed that if Holo and Lawrence needed to force their way out, it would not be impossible.

If they had to come up with a plan, this place was as good as any.

“What do you think?” asked Lawrence.

The two sat opposite each other on benches separated by a low table in the center of the room. He spoke softly so as not to be heard by the guard that was no doubt just outside the door.

“I should’ve given up on looking for the book and left the village with you,” came Holo’s uncharacteristically glum reply.

However, her face did not look especially guilty nor did it show much regret.

She focused on one particular spot, her mind furiously working.

“It’s not clear that would actually have changed anything. Let’s say that we came in to ask after the abbey’s location and left the same day. That would’ve been the day before yesterday. Then the news of Enberch’s poisoned wheat reaches the village today. Obviously they would assume that someone malicious mixed the poison wheat in with the good. And who do you think they would then blame? Us,” said Lawrence.

“There are no other groups made up of a foolish merchant and a beautiful maiden. They’d soon catch us on horseback,” added Holo.

Lawrence winced at Holo’s bitter words, but then again, breaking down into sobs of self-recrimination was not exactly Holo’s style.

“As soon as we set foot in this village, it was inevitable that we would be suspected of poisoning the wheat. Demons bringing calamity always come from without, after all.”

“And there’s nothing we can say to prove our innocence.”

Lawrence nodded.

Whether a demon or a malicious human poisoned the wheat was irrelevant—when calamity occurred, people needed something to blame.

It was not that demons were responsible for wrongdoing, but rather that when something bad happened, demons were blamed.

“The circumstances are too perfect. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that this is a move by Enberch to gain control of Tereo. Everyone in the region must be aware of the tax dispute between the two. If Tereo’s wheat suddenly turns up poisoned, Enberch is going to be the obvious suspect. Tereo has people supporting it, and those people would surely not keep silent. So Enberch needs someone else to blame. Then we just happened to show up, which gave them the perfect opportunity to execute their plan.”

If this was all true, Lawrence had a good notion of what lay at the end of it.

“Then when they hold their negotiations with the village, they’ll offer the condition of delayed payment so long as the villagers find the person responsible.”

Thus Enberch would both be able to convince its neighbors that this was not Enberch’s own doing and to bring Tereo under its control while Lawrence and Holo evaporated like so much dew on the executioner’s block.

“Enberch won’t want to get in trouble with our trade guild, so they certainly won’t have a trial to determine our guilt. They’ll simply declare us guilty and execute us, promising to lower Tereo’s debt so long as the villagers of Tereo keep quiet about who we were and where we came from, and that would be that.”

Holo sighed and bit her thumbnail. “And you’re content with that?”

“Of course not.” Lawrence laughed and shrugged, but admittedly he did not know what they should do to extricate themselves from the situation.

“If we run, they’ll be certain to think it was us who poisoned the wheat, and if your face is then posted everywhere, you won’t be able to do business,” said Holo.

“It would be the end of my life as a merchant, yes.”

So what to do?

Holo seemed to suddenly realize something and spoke. “Hm. Ah, could you not seek help with the guild you’re a member of?”

“Help, huh. If I could do that I…ah. Hm.” Lawrence tapped on his own head. Holo peered at him uncertainly.

“Wait—you’re here,” he finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“Something good. If I was riding on your back, could we escape to another town faster than on horseback?”

“Certainly.”

“This isn’t long-distance trading, and in any case, the only thing faster than a horse is a ship. The net Enberch would throw out to catch us can only extend at the speed a horse can run. Which means—”

Holo sniffed slightly through her nose. It was hard to know if it was a small sigh or a reply.

“I was thinking that if I was traveling with you in the cart, we’d never be able to contact a guild house before they caught us. But if we can make it to the guild, we can get some measure of protection. If news of a guild member using poisoned wheat to do business got around, it would be a disaster—so they’ll do whatever they can to put a stop to it.

“If the people trying to trap us are thinking similarly, they may give up the chase as soon as they see we’ve escaped.

“However—”

Lawrence’s pleasure at seeing a way out of the situation was short-lived; soon he saw its inevitable conclusion.

“But after that, who do you think will be accused of being the culprit?” he asked.

There was no need to ask. It would obviously be the person that all the villagers knew was a liar, the one who they had always regarded with suspicion and whose occupation afforded him the perfect opportunity to poison the wheat: Evan the miller.

Holo was quick to grasp what Lawrence was getting at.

She put on an annoyed expression. “Fine then, let him ride on my back as well. He wants to see the outside world anyway, yes? I won’t refuse him. If the girl’s in danger, put her on as well. You are absurdly softhearted, after all—honestly, the trouble I’m put through on your account…,” she said, as though already having given up trying to protest.

With Lawrence and Evan gone, Enberch would have no one to point to as the culprit.

Not only that, but with both of them gone, Enberch would have to claim to surrounding towns that Evan was the criminal and that he had fled because he was guilty. There would be no need to go after Lawrence since doing so risked trouble with his guild.

“The trouble, though, is that you’ll have to reveal your true form,” said Lawrence.

Holo gave an incredulous smile, miffed at being underestimated. “I am not so narrow-minded as to be worried about that. ’Tis true, though…Being feared does wound my fragile heart.”

There was a hint of accusation in Holo’s eyes, perhaps at the memory of Lawrence’s fear when he had first seen her wolf form in the sewers of Pazzio.

But she soon bit her lower lip mischievously, flashing her fangs slightly, and said, “Or is it simply that you wish to be the only person who knows my secret?”

At a loss for words, Lawrence cleared his throat.

Holo chuckled throatily. “If this is what you wish to do, I do not mind.”

It was unavoidable. He couldn’t think of another way out of the predicament. “It’s the worst-case solution, of course, but the chances of it turning out like this are very high. It would be a shame to leave behind the horse, wagon, and cargo, but there’s nothing for it but to think of them as fallen into a deep valley.”

“I suppose I don’t mind being your new wagon.”

It was a clever jest.

“Oh? I’d like to see the cart horse that holds its own reins.”

Just as Holo flashed her invincible smile, there was a knock at the door.

The door opened to reveal Sem.

The crisis that the village faced seemed too heavy a burden for his aged body.

Though it was probably an effect of the light coming from the candles that hung from the ceiling, he seemed to have become even more haggard looking.

“Might I have a word with you?” he asked.

It did not seem likely that he had heard Lawrence’s hushed exchange with Holo.

After all, Holo would not have let her guard down and spoken if that was a possibility.

“Yes, we were just hoping to speak to you,” said Lawrence.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” said Sem, holding himself up on his staff and entering the room. A villager stood behind him, guarding the door.

Perhaps unused to the prospect of violence, the villager was obviously nervous.

“Please close the door,” said Sem. The villager’s eyes widened in surprise, but he grudgingly did as he was told and closed the door.

It was obvious that he believed Lawrence and Holo were guilty.

“Well, then,” said Sem, placing the candle he held on the table. “Who exactly are you two, then?”

He certainly got right to the point.

Lawrence flashed his merchant’s smile. “We are nobody of note, I should say. I have already told you who I am.”

“Yes, you have indeed told me who you are. Though I have not yet confirmed it, I do believe you.”

Sem’s gaze moved from Lawrence to Holo.

Holo looked down silently, her head covered by her hood.

It almost appeared as though she were sleeping.

“You were asking after Diendran Abbey. What business do you have there?”

Sem had conceded that the abbey existed. This was progress.

When Lawrence had originally inquired about the abbey’s whereabouts, Sem had pretended not to know anything about it.

What he wanted now was to ascertain whether Lawrence and Holo were from Enberch.

But what would he do after gaining that knowledge?

“A person I met in Kumersun told me of the abbot of Diendran Abbey. To be precise, she did not tell me but rather my companion.”

It was Sem’s greatest fear that Lawrence and Holo had been sent from Enberch.

But it seemed that he did not have the patience for subtle questions that would draw out the truth.

He took a deep, wheezy breath, his eyes imploring. “Did you not come here on the orders of Enberch? If you did, how much—how much did they pay you?”

“We did come through Enberch, but it was only one stop on our travels. It is for our own goals that we sought out Diendran Abbey.”

“Enough lies!” shouted Sem hoarsely, leaning forward, his expression almost monstrous in the candlelight.

“We have nothing to do with the dispute between Enberch and Tereo. I only understood the problem by putting together things I heard at your tavern, things I learned by talking to Evan and Miss Elsa, and my own experience,” said Lawrence.

Sem feared the possibility that Lawrence and Holo were spies from Enberch.

The poison wheat problem did not center around heresy and the Church—it was about money.

Depending on the negotiations, the village was not necessarily doomed.

But if the Church got involved, it would not be so simple.

“A-are…are you truly not from Enberch?” Sem himself was probably aware that no answer they gave would fully convince him.

But he had to ask, and Lawrence could only answer one way.

“We are truly not.”

Sem looked down, his face a mask of suffering, as though he had swallowed a red-hot ingot of iron. Even sitting, he had to support his body with his staff.

He raised his head slowly. “If that is true…”

No doubt by now Sem knew the villagers’ financial situation.

Lawrence thought this over, and this was immediately clear that if all the wheat was returned, the village would fall into ruin.

This meant the profit that came once every half a year—perhaps only once a year—would vanish in an instant.

“If that is true…might you lend us your wisdom…and your money?”

Holo moved slightly.

She might have remembered Lawrence having to beg for loans in Ruvinheigen.

He’d been caught in a trap and had to frantically run around borrowing money.

At the time, he had felt like a drowning man, trying to breathe even if it meant inhaling water.

But Lawrence was a merchant.

“I can lend you my wisdom. However—”

“I would not ask you to provide it free of charge,” said Sem.

Lawrence met Sem’s keen eyes.

He did not imagine that Tereo had much to offer him by way of compensation.

There were only a few possibilities.

“In exchange, I will guarantee your safety,” said Sem.

Tereo might have been a small village, but it was a community and Sem was its leader.

In a poor village, a merchant’s coin was powerful.

But against the scythes and hoes of angry villagers, a merchant was helpless.

“Is that a threat?”

“The reason I did not simply have you bound on the spot was because you first came to greet me with wheat,” said Sem.

He was quite adroit.

Lawrence did not feel that arguing would improve his situation.

Besides, he had already conferred with Holo; he knew his course of action. Cooperating with Sem would make everything easier.

“I suppose I have no choice but to agree.”

“…”

“However”—Lawrence straightened up and looked Sem in the eye—“should I succeed in turning the situation around, I will ask for appropriate compensation.”

Lawrence was neither begging for his life nor asking to be left some small portion of his own money, but rather making demands of remuneration. Sem seemed momentarily stunned but soon came to himself.

Perhaps he thought Lawrence’s self-confidence was warranted.

Or perhaps he simply wanted to believe as much.

But the truth was that Lawrence lied in order to win Sem’s trust.

He wanted to get away from this village as peaceably as possible. Thus the best course of action was to wait for the messenger from Enberch to arrive, and then Lawrence would see for himself what Tereo’s fate would be.

Assuming that Enberch wished to take control of Tereo as easily as possible, it was unlikely that the townspeople would have investigated whether the poisoned wheat had occurred naturally or was the result of foul play.

They would probably leave the mystery unsolved.

“Very well. Tell me all the details,” said Lawrence to Sem. Maybe by some miracle they could turn the situation around.

The more of the story Lawrence heard from Sem, the worse it got.

The contract Father Franz had negotiated with Enberch was unlike anything Lawrence had ever heard of, beginning with the stipulation that Tereo could simply name its selling price and amount when selling wheat to Enberch.

But looking at the books that Father Franz had assembled in the church’s cellar, it was easy to imagine that he had powerful supporters somewhere.

Bound in leather and reinforced at all four corners with iron, each volume would have cost a fortune.

Based on the letters that Lawrence had spied on Elsa’s desk, Father Franz had been personally acquainted with the duke of a nearby border region, as well as the bishop of a very large bishopric.

Though he was suspected of heresy time and time again, Father Franz had been able to live out his days peacefully, no doubt because of his powerful connections. Like the ropes that are woven together to create a net, the bonds between people could be a source of great strength.

Sem claimed not to know how Father Franz had imposed the contract on Enberch, which was probably true.

He speculated that Father Franz had learned something damaging about Duke Badon, the ruler of Enberch, which seemed likely.

Father Franz had certainly been a remarkable man.

However, this was no time to waste breath singing the praises of the deceased.

If Lawrence could find a way to solve the village’s problem, it would be good business for him, so he wanted to give the matter serious thought.

The extravagance with which the villagers squandered Father Franz’s legacy was nothing short of tragic.

Even if Lawrence were to hand over all his gold and silver in the village’s name, the money would make little difference.

It was clear that if all the wheat was returned, the village would be ruined.

But nothing would come from such thoughts. Lawrence offered the only possibility he could think of.

“Properly speaking, Enberch will want to purchase wheat from next year’s harvest to make up for whatever they’re left owing now.”

“…Which means?”

“It means that they’ll set a price now for the purchase of all the wheat from your fields next year.”

Sem did not even understand the idea of green harvesting—it was obvious how long the village had been free of worry.

“I-if that is possible, then we would have a reprieve, for the nonce—”

“But the buying party has the advantage. As they are paying for something that does not yet exist, it is only favorable to them if they’re given a significant discount. And once the price is agreed upon, no matter how large the harvest, you must still sell it all at that price.”

“B-but that’s absurd.”

“So even if next year’s harvest is as abundant as this year’s, your income will drop so you will have to speculatively sell wheat from the following year to make up the difference, which means your third year’s income will be even lower. They may even take advantage of your weakness to cancel the deal in case of a poor harvest. I’m sure you understand what would happen after that.”

It was for this reason that villagers normally spent so much time on side jobs during the winter.

They had to save money to prevent others from stealing their land.

“I always thought that all would be well so long as we avoided taxation…That is why I tried so hard to guard what Father Franz left us.”

“You were not mistaken. However, the villagers did not understand how great the gift of Father Franz’s legacy was.”

“I see…I know it is too late for such talk, but when Father Franz first arrived, he asked to stay at the church in exchange for his improving relations with Enberch. Though we had a church in our village, we could not abandon our faith in the ancient guardian of the land, Lord Truyeo. Father Franz claimed not to care about that, and he was never involved in any proselytizing. He simply lived in the church.”

The villagers had probably thought of Father Franz as a blessing sent to them by Lord Truyeo.

“I can’t believe it has come to this,” said Sem finally.

“Elder Sem, surely you saw the potential for this to happen, did you not?” asked Lawrence bluntly.

Sem’s face went blank, and he closed his eyes, sighing. “I suppose…I did. But to think that Khepas liquor would turn up…”

“Khepas liquor?”

“Ah, yes, that is what we call the poison wheat. It is made from rye, and we all know of it—I cannot imagine that any from the village would be so careless as to mix it with wheat at sufficient purity to kill a man.”

Lawrence agreed. “So it will be assumed that someone did it intentionally,” he said.

“The villagers will blame the traveler since outsiders are always the subject of suspicion,” said Sem.

“And after that, Evan the miller.”

Sem nodded and then nodded again. “I spoke with Elsa a moment ago, and she believes Enberch to be responsible. I am pathetic. I believed that so long as we could raise wheat and sell it easily, we would have peace. I thought of nothing else.”

“When the messenger from Enberch arrives, it will be clear whether this is all their doing or not. If possible, I would like to speak to Elsa before then,” said Lawrence.

All of the advice Lawrence had given Sem was simply a setup to deliver this line.

“Understood.” Sem stood and opened the door, giving the villager there some brief instructions. He then turned to Lawrence. “This man will take you to her.”

Sem clung to his staff as he moved aside for Lawrence and Holo to pass.

“Embarrassingly this has taken…a toll on this old body of mine. Please tell me what you learn later.”

The villager hastily pushed forth from the chair he had been sitting on. Sem sat on it now, pain in his features.

Though it was convenient that Sem would not be following them to the church, he was also the one who could protect Holo and Lawrence from the ire of the villagers.

Lawrence certainly hoped that this would all be resolved peacefully.

He would feel bad if Sem were to collapse now, so he left the man with some kind words before leaving his house.

The fire in the village square still burned brightly with small groups of villagers gathered here and there talking.

As soon as Lawrence and Holo emerged from the elder’s house, the villagers’ eyes all fell upon them.

“Well, that’s certainly unpleasant,” muttered Holo.

If the villager leading them to the Church was to betray them, Lawrence and Holo would almost certainly be beaten and hanged by the angry mob.

It was an incredibly delicate situation.

Though the church was but a short distance away, it seemed very far indeed now.

“Iima—the elder sent us.” They had finally reached the church, whereupon the villager knocked on the door and announced himself quite loudly.

No doubt the loud voice was also to announce to the surrounding villagers that he was leading the two travelers on the elder’s orders.

What a villager feared above all was to be singled out by his fellow villagers.

Soon the church door opened, and Iima invited Lawrence and Holo inside. The villager that was their escort seemed visibly relieved, his shoulders sagging.

The hate-filled gazes that Lawrence and Holo endured were dyed red by the firelight, but now the closing church door blocked them out.

It was a magnificent door, but Lawrence was not sure how it would hold up against anything but hateful gazes.

“The elder sent you, then? What is it?” Though she had let them into the church, Iima blocked their path, not letting them enter any farther.

“I need to speak with Miss Elsa.”

“With Elsa?” asked Iima, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Sem guaranteed my safety in exchange for my wisdom and coin. But to make that wisdom and coin as effective as possible, I need accurate information. I believe Miss Elsa has a better understanding of the situation than Sem does.”

Lawrence expected that Iima, who had lived and traveled alone, would have some sympathy for him and Holo and the unreasonable situation they now found themselves in.

Whether or not that hope was clear to her, she gestured with her chin in the direction of the living room. “She’s in there; follow me,” said Iima, heading into the church.

Holo was still looking into the sanctuary.

Had Lawrence not been there, she would have long since forced her way into the church, and once she had the book clenched between her wolf teeth, Holo would have run for the horizon.

To the left of the sanctuary were the priestly offices and study.

Candlelight shone from around the corner at the end of the hallway, and when the group rounded it, they found Evan.

He stood there before the door to the living room, ax in hand. It was not hard to guess why he was there.

When he noticed Lawrence and Holo, he was at first surprised before his face settled into a more complicated expression.

There were two people in the village who were suspected of poisoning the wheat. Evan, of course, knew it wasn’t himself, so that left only one person to suspect. He was, though, one of the few people who could see the path that all the village’s wheat took.

Perhaps he knew there was no chance Lawrence could have poisoned it.

“Elsa is here, correct?”

“Ah, yes, but—”

“The elder’s already given permission. Elsa! Elsa!” said Iima as she shoved past Evan.

The blade of the ax Evan held was rusted, and the handle looked as though it had been eaten away by termites.

Lawrence could understand what would make Evan grab such a weapon and stand in front of the door like that.

After all, Lawrence himself had stood in front of Holo, exhausted and beaten up, to protect her in the sewers beneath Pazzio.

“What is it?” asked Elsa.

“You’ve got guests.”

“Huh? Oh—”

“We’ve come to speak with you,” said Lawrence.

Elsa’s expression was somehow even more neutral than it had been when he’d visited the church before. “Very well, come in—”

Iima raised her voice. “Elsa.”

Elsa was just about to retreat into the room when she turned around at Iima’s voice.

“Is it really all right?” Iima asked.

No doubt she was referring to Lawrence and Holo.

Lawrence was not at all confident in his ability to best Iima in a scuffle. He considered it as she gave him an unintimidated glance.

Evan swallowed hard and looked on.

“We cannot depend upon them, but we can trust them,” said Elsa. “After all, they do at least know how to pray.”

This was just the kind of sarcasm that Holo liked. Lawrence noticed that Elsa herself wore a slight smile.

Beneath her hood, Holo’s expression suggested that she had no time for dealing with unimportant people—but what actually irritated her was no doubt that she wished to retort but could not.

“Fine. Evan, boy—you protect her, you hear?” ordered Iima, slapping Evan’s shoulder and walking back down the hallway.

It spoke well of Iima that she did not insist upon being included in the conversation.

So long as she was around, Evan and Elsa would feel secure.

“I apologize for the interruption,” said Lawrence, entering the room with Holo behind him.

Evan, ax in hand, was about to follow them, but Elsa stopped him. “You wait outside.”

“What? Why?”

“Please.”

Evan’s reluctance was understandable. He nodded grudgingly after Elsa asked again but still seemed dissatisfied.

Lawrence untied the coin purse that was fixed at his waist and held it out to Evan. “Any merchant would weep if he lost his coin purse. I’m leaving it with you. Think of it as proof that you can trust me.”

The coin purse contained only his cash on hand, so it was not a great deal of money to Lawrence, but Evan took hold of the bag like it was glowing hot, looking back and forth between the purse and Lawrence’s face, his expression on the verge of tears.

“I’ll leave it in your care, then,” finished Lawrence.

Evan nodded and took a step back.

Elsa closed the door, then looked back into the room.

“Quite an excellent performance. If Enberch was as skilled as you, we would have no choice but to surrender,” she said with a sigh.

“Do you doubt us?”

“If you were from Enberch, then it would be Church elders coming to the village, not a wagon loaded with wheat.”

Elsa stepped away from the door and sat in a chair, gesturing perfunctorily for Lawrence and Holo to do the same. She massaged her temples, as though suffering from a truly awful headache.

She continued. “Besides, it’s even harder to believe you came here to poison the wheat than it is to believe you’ve come in search of heresy.”

“By which you mean…?”

“Hmph. While Elder Sem still doubts you, all this…all this is clearly Enberch’s doing. I just never imagined it would come to this.”

“Father Franz passed away this past summer, correct? It’s hard to have poison wheat ready in a mere six months. Anywhere you go, Ridelius’s Hellfire—er, I mean Khepas liquor—is hidden and disposed of as soon as it appears,” said Lawrence.

If Enberch had prepared the poison wheat long ago and never put the plan into action, it was probably because no conveniently unseasonable travelers to foist the blame on had come through Enberch into Tereo until now.

Thinking about this rationally, the townspeople had probably also feared Father Franz.

By the same token, however, they had likewise no doubt decided that they could safely act against Elsa.

“The village’s financial state is hopeless. I would very much like to ask for aid from my supporters, but they are all of them only supporting me because of my father’s legacy. It is all I can do to convince them to continue that support. If I ask for more, I risk losing what I have,” said Elsa.

“…Undoubtedly.” Lawrence cleared his throat. “So, Miss Elsa—what do you think will become of us now?”

A typical clergyman would tell him that as long as he trusted in God’s grace, there was no need to worry, that God knew the truth.

A smile played at the corners of Elsa’s mouth. “Are you asking me?” she inquired quietly.

“The ones who can best tell me how Enberch’s play will end are you and Iima.”

“As well as the two of you, don’t you agree?”

Elsa clearly did not want to say it herself.

On the matter of what sorts of demands Enberch’s messenger would bring and who would be taken back to Enberch in exchange for the wheat, Lawrence and Elsa were likely of one mind.

Lawrence nodded, then looked at Holo next to him.

Beneath her hood, she looked sleepy.

She was well aware of what her role would soon be, so she seemed to be saying, “Let me rest until then.”

Lawrence suddenly looked back at Elsa. “We are planning to escape,” he said casually.

Elsa was unmoved. If anything, her face betrayed displeasure, as if she were dealing with a particularly dense and slow child. “I believe the time for escape has long passed.”

“Do you think Enberch already has the road under watch?”

“That may well be. If they have indeed planned all of this, then they would need you two as well.”

Elsa’s opinion reinforced Lawrence’s—which meant the same problem troubled both of them.

“The village’s suspicion is aimed at you and Evan. It will be difficult to defend yourselves. Yet if you run, it will be the same as admitting your guilt,” said Lawrence.

Had Elsa been a bit older and a man, she would have been able to easily inherit Father Franz’s great legacy, Lawrence felt.

“Regardless, even if the two of you managed to escape on horseback, you might not even make it past the villagers.”

“If my companion were merely the maiden she looks to be, that would be true.”

Lawrence got the sense that Holo’s ears twitched, perhaps due to her irritation at Elsa’s gaze.

“Speaking in terms of outcomes, we can escape. We can escape whenever we wish,” he said.

“Then…why aren’t you?”

Lawrence nodded. “First, we have not yet read through all the books in the cellar. Also, if we run, who do you think would be next in line to receive the villagers’ ire?”

Elsa did not so much as swallow.

Her quick, logical mind had already led her to that conclusion, and she already seemed to have been prepared to face it.

“I do not know how you plan to escape, but do you have confidence that you can take Evan with you?”

“Not only him, but you as well.”

For the first time, Elsa smiled. “Ridiculous,” it seemed to say. “I will neither impede nor encourage your escape. As a villager, I cannot allow you to run as you are still the most suspicious party. But as a follower of the Church, I cannot allow you to be unjustly condemned and would hope for your successful flight.”

She must have thought Lawrence was cornered and speaking nonsense—thus the strange carelessness of her manner.

“In any case, regarding your first point, I have no reason to refuse you at this late hour. I would like to let you finish reading the books…,” she continued.

“At this point, there’s but a single volume we’d like to see.”

Holo shifted and said, “’Tis directly behind the altar. I’d like to read just that book…given the situation. I will not ask for more.”

Elsa closed her eyes slowly, seeming to come to a decision. She may have decided to grant some grace to people who she felt would soon be dead.

She stood and opened the door.

“Wh-whoa!”

“Eavesdropping brings punishment,” said Elsa.

“Er, no, I didn’t mean to—”

“Honestly. It matters not either way. There is a book hidden behind the altar. Go fetch it, please.”

The discussion that had just taken place was not a loud one, so Lawrence was not sure whether Evan had heard it.

Evan hesitated for a moment but soon ran off down the hallway.

Elsa watched him go and seemed to murmur something under her breath, but Lawrence couldn’t catch what it was.

It might have been “If we could escape,” but before he could ask Holo, Elsa turned back to face him.

“I will not try to stop you from escaping. However”—she was every inch the noble clergywoman—“until you do, would you lend us your wisdom? There are none in this village who know well the ways of coin.”

Naturally Lawrence nodded. “I will, though I cannot guarantee that you will find my answers satisfying.”

Elsa blinked in surprise, then gave the same small smile she seemed to use on Evan. “It seems you merchants quite enjoy that line.”

“We are a careful lot,” said Lawrence, whereupon Holo stepped on his foot.

“I’ve brought the book.”

Evan must have found the book easily. He’d returned faster than Lawrence had expected.

“But…isn’t this one of the books of pagan legends? Why do you need it?” Evan asked.

Holo walked over to him and took—no, snatched—the book from him.

The contents of the book were something so important that Father Franz had been careful to record them impartially. Holo had no time for Evan’s questions.

Lawrence answered for her. “When one gets old, the ancient tales get more interesting.”

“Huh?” grunted Evan cluelessly.

Holo walked right past him and into the hallway.

It was obvious that she didn’t want to read the book while others looked on. Lawrence had Elsa light a candle for him, then placed it on a sconce, and followed after Holo.

When he arrived in the rear of the sanctuary, he found Holo crouched down, holding her knees like a scolded child.

“No matter how good your eyes are, you can’t read in the dark.”

She hugged the book, trembling faintly.

Just when Lawrence wondered if she was crying, she looked up slowly. Her face betrayed no hint of weakness.

“Listen, you,” she began. “If I destroy this book in anger, will you make amends?”

She was not jesting. This was much more Holo-like than any tears would be.

Lawrence sighed and shrugged. “I don’t mind paying for it, but don’t tear pages out to dry your eyes.” He felt it was a fairly good line.

Holo grinned, showing her fangs as she looked up. “You’d happily buy my tears at a high price, though. ’Twould be a shame not to cry them.”

“There are many counterfeit gems in the world. I’d hate to purchase a fake.”

It was their usual banter.

They both laughed at the absurdity of it.

“Will you leave me alone for a while to read?” she asked.

“I shall. But tell me your thoughts when you’re finished.”

If possible, Lawrence wanted to be at her side as she read.

Saying so, however, risked her anger.

Worrying about someone was the same as not trusting them.

Holo was a proud wisewolf. Lawrence could plainly see that treating her like a delicate, weeping maiden would bring furious reprisals.

He would worry about her when she called upon him to do so.

Leaving Holo to her reading, he said no more, nor did he look back. Holo took a deep breath as though she had already forgotten his presence.

The next moment, he heard a decisive page flip.

As he walked down the dim hallway, Lawrence tapped his head with his closed fist, trying to think about something else.

Elsa had not given up on trying to restore the village’s position. If the knowledge and experience Lawrence possessed could be of any help, he would lend it.

Also, in the back of his mind, he was searching for the words he would need to persuade Evan to flee with him should the worst come to pass.

“Oh, Mr. Lawrence, aren’t you going to stay with her?” came Evan’s surprised query when Lawrence returned to the room.

Noticing the change in mood, Elsa casually withdrew her hand from Evan’s, wiping the corners of her eyes. Holo was never so sweet.

“Ah, if it would be better for me to be elsewhere, I can go.”

Elsa cleared her throat, and Evan looked blank.

Lawrence wondered if that was what he looked like from the outside, but he didn’t have the luxury of such pointless worries at the moment.

No doubt Elsa, too, would prefer to simply be at Evan’s side, never having to worry about anything.

She soon regained her neutral expression.

“Well, then, how can my knowledge and experience help you?”

“I heard from Elder Sem earlier that if all the wheat is returned, we will be short seventy limar.”

The limar was a gold coin equal to twenty silver trenni pieces, which meant the debt would come to about fourteen hundred trenni.

That was probably equivalent to the amount the town had spent on repairing their tools, laying in provisions for the winter, and on buying food, drink, and luxuries. Generously estimating Tereo’s population at one hundred households, that came to fourteen silver pieces for each one. The village’s farmland was not particularly large—fourteen silver pieces was far too high a figure.

“Even if they collect everything I own, it would be like scattering water on a hot cooking stone. If Enberch is the buyer, they’ll beat the price down as low as they can. All the wheat in my cart would barely go for two hundred silver at best,” said Lawrence.

“That’s not all we lack. We can’t very well eat the seed grain that’s been stored in the granary, so we’ll need to come up with funds to purchase more to eat…,” said Elsa.

“Could we not test the returned wheat for poison by feeding small amounts of it to, say, dogs?” Evan asked.

In the worst case, that would be their only option.

But would the villagers be able to survive mainly on bread from possibly poisoned wheat clear through to the next year’s harvest?

Unlikely.

“Khepas liquor is invisible, and even if you took a handful of safe wheat from a sack, the wheat directly beneath it might well be poisoned.”

Even supposing that Holo could tell poisoned wheat from safe, they would never be able to make the villagers trust her.

They could pick some flour at random and make a loaf of bread, but the next loaf might well be deadly.

“It is not hard to see that this is all Enberch’s doing. And yet we cannot expose them—why? Why is it that the first one to tell a lie receives all the trust?” blurted Elsa, palm against her forehead.

Such things happened in business all the time.

Lawrence had seen any number of scuffles wherein the party to cast the first stone wound up winning.

It was a common saying that while God reveals the model for righteousness, He does not execute its proof.

Elsa’s feeling of powerlessness was understandable.

“Bemoaning our fate will get us nowhere,” said Lawrence.

Elsa nodded, her head still resting in her hand. She looked up and spoke. “True. I can’t very well cry now, my father…Father Franz, he would…would…”

“Elsa!”

Her legs seemed to lose all their strength, and she was about to collapse, but Evan managed to catch her just before she did.

She seemed exhausted, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused. She’d had her hand pressed to her head out of dizziness—anemia, perhaps.

“I’ll fetch Iima,” said Lawrence.

Evan nodded, then lay Elsa down gently, pushing the chair aside.

Elsa had fainted before when Lawrence and Holo had revealed the truth of Holo’s existence.

This leader of a church that no one attended—she was not so different from a god without worshippers.

With neither tithes nor offerings, she had only a poor miller for company.

No matter how the two of them split their meager bread, it would come with intolerable suffering, Lawrence could tell.

He headed to the entrance of the sanctuary where he found Iima planted in a chair. She stood as soon as she noticed Lawrence.

“Miss Elsa has collapsed.”

“Again? Anemia, right? She pushes herself too far, that girl.”

Iima brushed past Lawrence and returned shortly carrying Elsa in her arms, heading for the living room.

Behind them came Evan, holding a candle in one hand, his expression clouded.

“Hey, Mr. Lawrence?”

“Hm?”

“What’s…what’s going to become of us?” asked Evan as he looked blankly toward the living room. He seemed a different person from the Evan of a few moments ago.

Elsa’s collapse had clearly shaken him.

No, that wasn’t it, Lawrence corrected himself.

Evan couldn’t let himself look uncertain in front of Elsa.

Even the stout Elsa had turned to Evan for reassurance as soon as Lawrence was no longer nearby.

And as the one whose reassurance was sought, Evan could not let himself look weak.

But that did not mean he didn’t have fears of his own.

“Elsa keeps saying it can’t be, but the villagers—they all suspect you and me, don’t they?”

Evan did not look at Lawrence.

“That’s right,” Lawrence said, staring off vaguely.

Evan inhaled sharply. “I knew it…”

His face looked almost relieved.

It seemed to Lawrence like an expression of defeat, but suddenly Evan continued. “Still—,” he said, looking up. “Was what you said before true?”

“Which part?”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…the part about being able to escape.”

“Oh yes. Yes, we can escape.”

Evan looked quickly toward the living room, then back at Lawrence. “With Elsa as well?”

“Yes.”

Evan was used to being the object of suspicion but unused to feeling that emotion himself; he looked uncomfortable.

It was clear that beneath the flames of his doubt was a desire to believe.

“If my companion and I escape alone, the blame will fall upon you and Elsa. It is thus my own selfish wish that if there is to be an escape, I would want to bring both of you with me.”

“That’s not selfish at all! I don’t want to die here. I don’t want to let Elsa die here. If you’ll help us, I want to run. Even Elsa, I’m sure she—” Evan looked down, wiping the corners of his eyes before continuing. “I’m sure she wants to get out of this village. The villagers claim to owe Father Franz a great debt, but they never show a bit of gratitude. They never listened to his teachings, and even when they offered huge sacrifices to the old god of the village, they wouldn’t give so much as a loaf of bread to the church. If it hadn’t been for Elder Sem and Mrs. Iima, we’d have starved to death long ago.”

Evan’s words were heavy and unpremeditated.

It seemed like he had much more to say, and his mouth opened as if to speak. His thoughts could not keep up, though, and no words came.

It was Iima emerging from the living room who interrupted. “The outside world isn’t great, either,” she said, hands on her hips and a weary expression on her face. “But it’s a lot better than this place. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to tell her.”

“You’ve some experience with the traveling life, don’t you?” asked Lawrence.

“I surely do. You heard my tales at the tavern, didn’t you? I don’t think a person needs to stay in the same town or village her whole life. The villagers’ attitude changed just like that as soon as Father Franz’s health failed, but that girl’s so stubborn. She would’ve wanted to leave long ago, Evan, even without you telling her to.”

Evan turned away, though out of embarrassment or anger it was difficult to say.

“But what’s going on now…it’s a disaster for the village. I’m just as scared about our future as anyone else. But I have to admit that it would be a good chance for this misfit church to finally wash its hands of Tereo.”

Saying the church would “wash its hands” of Tereo was putting a nice face on it. There was no getting around the fact that Elsa and Evan were being chased out. Lawrence hoped that Holo wasn’t listening in on this conversation.

However, he didn’t feel that it made any sense for Elsa and Evan to stay behind just to die together.

“So, if you…er…,” started Iima.

“Lawrence. Kraft Lawrence.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Lawrence. If you have some way of escaping with them, I think you should. No—I want you to. This place is my home, after all. I don’t want it to have the reputation that would come from putting innocent people to death. It would be too sad.”

The village’s wheat had been poisoned and was going to be returned. How many people would worry about reputation in such a crisis?

“I suppose we’ll need to persuade Elsa.”

Iima nodded at Evan’s statement.

People left their hometowns for many reasons. Some, like Lawrence, cut all ties while others left out of necessity. Still others—Iima, for example—had their homes destroyed.

Holo had left to go traveling for a time and had ended up not returning home for centuries, during which time Yoitsu was destroyed.

Sometimes things went as one wished; other times they did not. Why was the way of the world always thus?

Perhaps it was because they were in a church that Lawrence’s thoughts strayed to such uncharacteristic places.

“I expect everyone will stay quiet until Enberch’s messenger arrives. It would be best to make your preparations and leave by then if you’re leaving,” said Iima.

Sem had said that the messenger would probably arrive around daybreak.

They had some time until then.

Evan nodded and dashed off to the living room.

Lawrence was about to check on Holo when Iima stopped him.

“There’s all this talk of leaving, but exactly how do you plan on escaping?” she asked.

It was a perfectly reasonable question.

Its answer, however, was anything but.

“If one can enter a forest and chance upon a maiden who brews delicious ale, then surely there are other equally mysterious beings in the world?”

Iima was taken aback for a moment, then smiled dubiously. “Don’t tell me you’ve met a fairy.”

It was a gamble.

Lawrence shrugged and gave a vague nod.

Iima laughed heartily. “Ha! Do such things truly happen, I wonder.”

“No doubt the duke who discovered you felt the same way.”

Iima smiled, then touched her cheek thoughtfully. “I certainly heard such stories on my travels, but to think…I gather you speak of your companion?”

The gamble had paid off.

“I cannot very well lie in a church.”

“Quite so. Well, I am but the mistress of the tavern and may as well be drunk the whole year long. All I wish is for this village to be a good one. I’m sorry for holding you up.”

Lawrence shook his head. “Not at all.”

Iima grinned. “I’ve heard tell that to capture a luck fairy in a bottle, you need to use liquor brewed from nectar. It’s liquor that lured me to this village as well.”

“I’ll make sure to use wine next time I’m in trouble,” said Lawrence with a smile as he turned and walked back into the darkness.

Heading toward the back of the sanctuary where he expected to find Holo, he rounded the second corner only to run face-first into a wall.

Or so he thought—but what now appeared to be before him was a thick, heavy book.

“Fool. As though I would be taken in by mere drink.”

Lawrence took the book, rubbing his nose. He stole a glance at Holo.

She did not appear to have been racked with sobs.

This fact relieved him.

“So are you finished talking?”

“More or less.”

“Mm. Well, for my part I’ve reached my goal. All I need to do now is keep you safe.”

Lawrence looked at the book. Holo noticed his glance. “Half and half, I’d say,” she said.

“Half and half?”

“Half of me wishes I hadn’t read it, and the other half is glad I did.”

It wasn’t a very clear answer. She gestured with her chin at the volume, as if telling Lawrence to see for himself, then sat down beside the candle and brought her tail out.

The sheet of parchment stuck between the book’s pages probably marked the section that dealt with Yoitsu.

Lawrence, though, started at the beginning.

The book was organized as a narrative that began with the origins of the bear spirit and continued on into the many stories about the spirit from various regions.

It was written in the book that the bear spirit was truly gigantic, well worthy of the epithet “moon hunter.” It was said to be so vast that even the highest mountain was but a cushion for the bear spirit to lie upon.

The white-furred beast had a savage disposition and was said to be a harbinger of death. It killed without mercy all who opposed it. The bear spirit traveled from region to region, challenging any being that was worshipped as a god. Once it had killed, it devoured all the food in the region and moved on. The tales in the book were all thus.

Aside from the section marked by the sheet of parchment, the stories were much the same.

Among them, the longest tale concerned the bear spirit’s battle against the sea serpent of Teuperovan, a creature so vast that a continent and countless islands were carried on its back. There was even a song written about the great conflict, the lyrics of which contained a reference to an island in the region of Radoon, which had been created when earth fell from the serpent’s back in the course of the battle. The fight between the bear and serpent had been fierce, and many pages were devoted to recording its extent.

The other tales, while not quite so epic, were still spectacular, and all served to confirm both the bear’s invincible savagery and the number of lesser spirits it had felled.

It was easy to understand why Father Franz had wanted to judge the tales without bias.

If these stories were to be believed, it would mean that the spirits in this area had already been ravaged before the Church moved in from the south.

Once Lawrence read the section that dealt with Yoitsu, his feelings became rather complicated.

Though Yoitsu was indeed mentioned, it seemed the spirits of the region had all tucked their tails between their legs and run, and Yoitsu itself had been torn apart in less time than it takes for fruit to drop from a tree’s branch to the ground. That was all that had been written. If one were flipping quickly through the pages, that section would be easy to miss.

The spirits of the region were no doubt Holo’s old friends. If they had truly fled, that meant they were safe, but it also made them look unavoidably pathetic.

Lawrence now knew what Holo had meant by half wishing she had not read it and being half glad that she had.

Yoitsu’s story had not even been very interesting—it was but a brief, unexciting section. Holo could not have enjoyed it.

All that said, the fact that Yoitsu had not been destroyed after a bitter, desperate struggle was good fortune within bad. If this was all true, then perhaps the spirits who knew the name Yoitsu had just moved elsewhere.

Just as Holo was unable to be genuinely happy at this news, Lawrence did not know what to say to her. If her companions were alive, it was because they were cowards.

He closed the book and glanced surreptitiously at Holo’s back.

The time when the world revolved around the gods had passed. Even the Church with all its great influence in the south felt the effects.

But there were many gods who had never held particularly strong influence, even in the distant past.

In the face of this truth—that the world of the gods was not so very different from that of the humans—Holo’s form seemed smaller than usual.

She had even been subjected to scorn in her own village.

Lawrence felt as though he understood the source of her loneliness.

She was no different from a person—in some ways, she was every bit the young girl she appeared to be. Just as it occurred to him—

“Perhaps it is just my imagination, but I feel as though someone is looking at me in a truly infuriating way.”

Holo turned around and gave Lawrence an overpowering glare.

The monarch of a small country was a monarch nonetheless.

“No, no, I’m not…No, I suppose I am. I am sorry. Don’t be so angry.”

Normally Holo would have turned away. Lawrence had no choice but to capitulate under her withering gaze.

He was surely correct about her.

“Hmph. I am satisfied knowing my friends are safe. That is all there is.”

No doubt she wanted to add, “So ask me no further,” but her pride as a wisewolf would not let her make such a pitiful request.

Lawrence could not help but feel some amusement at her faintly childish manner.

He coughed to conceal the smile that unavoidably rose to his lips, then spoke. “That is indeed good news, but we still have no more information about Yoitsu’s location.”

He flipped through the pages once again.

While information on Yoitsu itself was sparse, it seemed all of the tales of the bear spirit were very old, most of them taking place in towns or villages that Lawrence had never heard of and in nations with unfamiliar names.

He had heard a few of the tales before—notably, the tale of the sea serpent—and though he knew of the Radoon region, there was nothing that helped him narrow down the whereabouts of Yoitsu.

Yet of all the stories of massive destruction wrought by the bear spirit, what strange coincidence was it that Lawrence had heard of Yoitsu?

It was pointless to consider, yet Lawrence could not help thinking about this.

“The world does not go as one would wish,” he said, closing the book.

Holo chewed on the tip of her tail. “Quite.” She sighed. “So what of those in this village for which the world goes not as they would wish? If you would escape, do decide quickly. It would be best to leave in the dark of night.”

“Elsa and I are of one mind on our fates should we remain. We’ll need to make sure we’re correct, but in that case, I think discretion will be the better part of valor.”

“A poor idea is worse than none,” she said with a yawn, standing. “Still, if it comes to that, you stand to take quite a loss.”

“It can’t be helped. It’s not as though we can bring the wheat with us.”

“Still, you don’t seem too upset about it.”

“Don’t I?” asked Lawrence, stroking his chin. It was not the first time he had been caught up in this kind of dispute. Sometimes losses were unavoidable.

It was true that his profit in Kumersun had far exceeded his expectations, but even given that, Lawrence was still surprised at his own calm.

And in any case, a traveler’s life was a cheap thing in an isolated village. Knowing his own life was not actually in danger was profit enough.

“Still, even with things as they are, there are some expensive things we can probably save,” said Lawrence.

“The pepper, right?”

Any merchant would have thought the same thing. Pepper and other spices were expensive because they were scarce. Though if they couldn’t stock up on any, there was no point in talking about transporting it.

Something occurred to Lawrence as he was mulling this over. “There’s a high-value product even lighter than spices that we can bring with us.”

“Oh?”

“It’s trust.”

Holo gave Lawrence a rare look of admiration, then smiled maliciously. “I’ll wait to sell off your trust in me until it’s a bit more valuable.”

“Do you have any idea just how paranoid I’ve become since being teased so mercilessly by you?”

Holo chuckled, then slipped her arm around Lawrence’s. “I suppose I will have to make it up to you.”

“This is exactly the sort of thing I’ve learned to be suspicious of.”

Holo was unmoved; she narrowed her eyes. “Lies will only lower the value of your trust.”

She never played fair.

“Still, you’ve never once blamed me for this trouble we’re in, and for that I am properly grateful.”

“Huh?”

“If I had not insisted upon coming here, you would not be suffering this loss.”

So she was playing this card now, Lawrence mused.

Yet they were probably her true feelings.

“Well, what say you moderate your eating and drinking for a while to make up for the loss, hm?”

Holo groaned. “You’ve certainly become less restrained.”

“Feel free to take the reins and—,” began Lawrence as he slipped the sheet of parchment back between the pages of the book. Their eyes met.

The statue of the Holy Mother looked down on the two, her head drooping as though at a loss at the foolish conversation taking place below her.

The sound that now echoed through the sanctuary loud enough for Lawrence to hear it was certainly not a blessing from the Holy Mother. Someone was banging on the door of the Church.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Lawrence.

“Bad feelings are usually correct,” said Holo, letting go of Lawrence’s arm. The two scampered down the hallway.

Lawrence heard the sound of knocking again, along with Iima shouting something in response.

It was obvious to both of them that the villagers were demanding that Iima hand over Lawrence and Holo.

“No, not this way!” said Iima. “To the back of the church—go!”

“But—”

“They’re babbling on about if they hand you over to Enberch, Enberch will forgive all this! They were never planning to do anything themselves. Even wheat just grows up out of the ground on its own—they’re happy to harvest it so long as it’s convenient. So long as things are easy, they’ll do anything to keep it that way!”

As Iima was talking, there were more heavy knocks on the door.

It was a church in a pagan area and as such had a heavy wooden bolt on the door.

It seemed unlikely that the villagers would be able to break through the main door, but there was a flimsy wooden window in the living room. If they got serious, they could easily break it and get inside the church.

It was now a fight against time.

Just then, Evan appeared with Elsa in tow.

“I’ll go and persuade them to—,” Elsa began.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Iima.

“But—!”

Iima gave the door a hard thump from the inside, then turned to face Elsa. “You going out to face them would be like throwing fuel on a fire. You think you’ve done a good job hiding it, but everyone knows you and Evan are close. In the worst case, they would call you a heretic just to be able to turn you over to Enberch.”

Iima had a good grasp of the situation.

Lawrence could easily picture it. Forced to choose between Elsa and the village, even Sem, who had been Elsa and Evan’s last ray of hope, would probably side with the village.

No one wanted to throw away their life, their position, their name, and their home.

“Listen well, now. You can’t stay here. Look at these two strange travelers, and you’ll understand—the world is vast. The villagers cannot comprehend it. You should at least try to begin your new life with companions you can trust,” said Iima.

There was much Elsa and Evan had to abandon, but there was much they would gain.

Elsa turned to look at Evan, and then both of them looked down.

Lawrence took this in and realized that the two needed to exchange no words to convey their thoughts at the moment. Just then, Holo tugged at his sleeve.

Though she had never said it, she must have given up many things in leaving the village she’d inhabited for so many centuries.

“No matter the journey, when you come to a fork in the road, you must decide in an instant which path to take,” said Holo.

“You’re quite right,” agreed Lawrence.

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut and openly grabbed Evan’s hand.

She opened her eyes. “I want to run.”

Iima looked back at Lawrence, who looked at Holo.

“Leave it to me,” said Holo. “I have one condition,” she continued, pulling back her hood and ignoring Iima and Evan’s surprise. “Think of everything that happens from now ’til dawn as a dream.”

When it came to decisiveness, perhaps women were better than men.

Elsa nodded, and only after seeing her agree did Evan also nod.

“What am I but a fairy that brews ale in the forest? Drunkards remember nothing,” said Iima.

Holo smiled. “Then leave this all to me. Now, if the lot outside have spears, I can jump past them easily enough, but they could still trouble you.”

“Does the church have a back door?” Lawrence asked.

For a moment Elsa began to shake her head, but stopped. “Perhaps—Father Franz told me about the cellar only once, but when he did, he said there was an underground passage accessible from its rear.”

If the construction of churches was the same the world over, then so were the actions of the people within them.

Any church with as many enemies as this one had would have secret passages for escape—it was a well-known fact among the kind of people that needed to know.

“Well, let’s use that,” said Lawrence.

Elsa nodded and looked at Iima.

“Things should be all right for a bit longer. They haven’t decided exactly what they want to do out there yet.”

It was true—once Iima had banged on the door from the inside, the hubbub seemed to have quieted.

“We’ll go down to the basement, then,” said Lawrence.

“We’re relying on you,” said Elsa, her tone firm, though uncertainty colored her features.

Anyone would feel trepidation upon suddenly hearing they had to leave their birthplace forever, unless they’d spent their days dreaming of doing exactly that.

“You’ve got it easy,” said Iima. “At least you can do a bit of preparation before you leave.” Iima’s own hometown had been razed by pirates, and she’d had to flee for her life.

“Indeed,” agreed Holo. “It is not as though your home will have disappeared tomorrow. Be glad it will still exist.”

“Oh, ho, Miss Fairy has lost her home as well?”

“Don’t lump me in with those weaklings.”

Knowledge of others’ suffering did not lessen one’s own suffering, after all.

It could be used for a bit of encouragement, though.

Elsa recovered her resolve. “We’ll make ready right way,” she said.

“Do you have traveling money?” Iima asked.

“Evan,” Lawrence said. Evan remembered the coin purse Lawrence had entrusted him with and produced it for Lawrence. “This should be enough for the four of us, provided we’re frugal,” said Lawrence.

“Good. Right, off with you!”

At Iima’s words, everyone sprang into action.

She was the image of a heroic woman, mused Lawrence as he ran. Once they arrived at the statue of the Holy Mother, Holo spoke up as if having read Lawrence’s thoughts.

“Even I cannot match her presence.”

Lawrence opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it.

This did not, of course, go unnoticed.

“Worry not—this is the only form I can assume,” she said with a laugh.

Lawrence harrumphed, partially out of embarrassment, and replied, “It’s a shame. I prefer a more generous figure.”

Holo cocked her head and smiled, then smacked Lawrence in the face with her closed fist. “Just open the cellar.”

Lawrence decided not to think too much about what had angered Holo lest it bring still more anger.