Spice and Wolf - Volume 8 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Out of the Roef Mountains flows the Roef River into the Roam River, which in turn empties into the Winfiel Strait.

At the highest headwaters of the Roef River is the mining town of Lesko. Where the Roef and Roam Rivers meet is Lenos, and where it meets the sea lies the port town of Kerube.

And when it came to the copper goods that arrived from upriver at the end of the long journey in Kerube, there were certainly enough trading companies to handle the trade.

As a result, Lawrence had a certain preconception, along with a fair bit of anticipation.

So when he arrived at the Jean Company, he couldn’t help but feel a little deflated.

“Is this the place?” asked Holo, her expression belying her swallowed disappointment.

She looked like she wanted to point out that she could blow the place over with a breath, probably because she might well have been imagining turning back into a wolf and smashing it to bits.

A rectangular iron plate, which was stamped “Jean Company,” dangled from the eaves, and the street-facing side of the building was functioning as a loading dock. It was there where what goods were present were loaded.

As for what the goods were loaded on or tied to, it was no shaggy-haired winter-working horse that would unflinchingly plunge through the deepest snowdrifts, nor was it a big wagon of the sort that could carry all the household goods of a small village.

There under the eaves stood a scrawny mule upon which were loaded bundles of oat, probably meant as winterfeed. It yawned aimlessly, waiting for departure.

Col, who surely heard the words trading company and imagined a center of money and power, stood before the shabby shop spoiling for a fight.

“Who goes there, eh?” a portly man well past middle age inquired. He was sitting at a receiving desk at the back of the loading dock and looked up at Lawrence’s party when he noticed them standing under the edge of the eaves. There seemed to be no one else in the trading house, save for a chicken that was using the floor as a pasture and pecking at the odd fallen leaf. “If you’ve come to buy, I welcome you and gladly. But if you’ve come to sell something, well…you may have wasted the trip.”

The man did not stand, and the way his sagging cheeks drew up into a self-deprecating smile seemed, above all, tired.

At this display, Holo shot Lawrence an extremely displeased look.

The Jean Company was among those trying to buy and sell, for some unfathomable purpose, the bones of a wolf that had likely been one of her friends.

They were deserving of all her spite, and given the depth of her contempt, they should at least be a big enough company to be worthy of it—so said her glance.

Col alone seemed to mistake the old man’s tired mien for dignity.

However, it was not always the case that a company’s size and the quality of the people it employed were proportionate.

Sometimes reaching into a snake hole summoned a dragon.

“Is business as bad as that?” Lawrence replied, stepping up onto the loading dock.

Pieces of straw were scattered about on the dock’s floor, probably a remnant of the large amount of wheat that had passed through it. The scene called to mind the eaves of a farmhouse somewhere. There were goods of various kinds here and there, as one would expect of a trading house, but to a one they seemed dingy and poor.

“Hunh. I make you as a merchant from the south. Is business good down south, then?”

In the corner, there was a folded-up set of armor.

It seemed to have been there for some time, probably as back stock, and Lawrence found in it a bit of comfort as one who had once failed badly in armor dealings.

“It’s good and bad.”

“Here it’s terrible. The worst,” admitted the old man, raising his hands in a defeated gesture.

Holo and Col followed Lawrence onto the loading dock, and they glanced about curiously.

When Holo suddenly lifted up some of the accumulated straw on the floor, two chicken eggs rolled out.

“Ah, so there were eggs in there, eh? The hens lay them all over, and I never find them all. I’ll have to gather them later…and yes, there’s been a huge drop in the chicken population this year. It’s damned quiet. Used to be this time of year the roosters and hens were lively as anything.”

“Because of the cancellation of the northern campaign?”

“Right. With no people, there’s no money, and when people don’t move, their bellies don’t empty. The price of farmed goods is dropping, along with things like barrels and buckets, and the armor that used to fly off the shelf goes nowhere, and to top it off, the price of wine just goes up and up.”

“Huh?” muttered Holo, sounding perplexed.

Behind the desk, the pudgy old man shrugged clumsily. “When there’s nothing to be done, what’s left to do but drink?”

Holo seemed entirely satisfied with the explanation.

“So, what news of profit does this merchant bring with two lumps in tow?”

“Lumps?” grumbled Holo, irritated. She probably would not be able to pass as a nun the way she usually did. Thinking that he would need to talk it over thoroughly with her later, Lawrence set the jab aside with grim resolution.

“I’d like to speak to the master of the Jean Company.”

“Well, that’d be me.”

Lawrence had guessed as much and nodded, unsurprised, stepping forward and placing the letter he had gotten from Eve on the desk.

“Oh, my apologies. So you’re acquainted with the Bolan Company, eh?”

“The Bolan Company?” Lawrence had been unaware that Eve had set up her own company and was a bit taken aback.

He had never met anyone for whom the term lone wolf fit as well as it did her.

However, when he said so, the master of the Jean Company did not as much as make a strange face.

Instead, he looked as though he thought Lawrence was making an offhand joke. “She may do business all alone without so much as hanging up a sign, but anyone who casts as wide a net as she does is a serious trading company, don’t you think?” posed the master, looking for agreement as he opened Eve’s letter.

Lawrence had no way of guessing just how influential Eve was, but there was not a single good reason to let this man know how recently he had come to know her.

Lawrence nodded and smiled vaguely, at which the man drew his own conclusions and smiled back.

“Mm, Kraft Lawrence, is it? Ho-ho. Never thought a man would come in here with a letter from that wolf of a woman. How’d you get her over the fire, I’d like to know.”

A moment ago the man seemed like the feckless master of a drab little company, but with his left eyebrow raised as he stared piercingly up at Lawrence, he seemed much more formidable.

However, he surely was not trying to intimidate Lawrence or inflate his own impression. He was simply very interested, and this was probably no more than the face he showed to any other tough merchant.

Lawrence revised his opinion of his opponent and relaxed, letting the enjoyment of meeting another interesting merchant show on his face.

“That’s a secret.”

“Bwa-ha-ha! I’ll bet it is! So…if I might ask, what brings you to…” His eyes ran over the letter as he talked.

Lawrence did not fail to notice the master’s cheek twitch immediately thereafter.

Given that it dealt with the story of the bone of a wolf that had been revered as a god, a normal merchant would have given a hearty laugh and poured some wine.

But the Jean Company master’s shoulders only shook with a chuckle of remembrance as he rerolled the letter and tied it closed. “I see. It’s been some time since anyone’s been interested in this story. And if you went to the trouble of getting Eve Bolan to send you, well…I guess you’re in earnest.”

“Embarrassing though it is, yes,” answered Lawrence with a smile. The man returned the smile, which seemed to be made of two different expressions mixed together.

The first was surprise that there was a merchant who would hear this story and take it so seriously. The other was befuddlement at being begged for details, after all this time, when long ago he had tried to get others to listen, but none would.

But the smile soon disappeared from the man’s face.

“Still, you must be quite a man to go to the trouble of getting a letter from that wolf just to come hear a silly tale like this.”

“It’s not as though we want a seat on the council. We want to know what can be done, not how we might seem.”

“You’ve come to my company, Kraft Lawrence, and that was the right answer. I ought to introduce myself properly. I’m the master of the Jean Company, Ted Reynolds.”

That was the name written on the Jean Company account ledgers that had so worried Lawrence and company on the way down the Roam River.

From the name, Lawrence had imagined a younger man, but in reality, he was easily twice the age Lawrence had envisioned.

“Jean was my father’s wife, you see. He was a devoted husband.”

“My goodness.”

“Though the name made his trade partners shiver in fear, so maybe he was more henpecked than devoted,” said the man, holding up a single finger and closing one eye, pretending nobility and smiling.

While the joke felt out of place, it did give the man a strange charm.

Lawrence realized he could not let his guard down.

“But you’ve come to ask me something even stranger.”

“Indeed. People do many strange things in this world,” said Lawrence.

“That’s the truth. Hunh—ah.” Reynolds lifted himself reluctantly out of his chair. “Wait just a moment,” he said before disappearing behind the desk farther into the building.

The chickens remained, pecking at the fuzzy edges of Col’s sandals.

Col frantically tried to shoo them off, but the chickens were merciless.

Amused, Holo watched the exchange between Col and the chickens for a while but eventually bared her teeth at the chickens.

The flightless birds immediately chose flight over fight.

“Sorry to keep you waiting—oh, my.” In no more time than it took the shed feathers of the scattered chickens to fall to the floor, Reynolds returned carrying a wooden box.

It did not take a sharp-eyed merchant to guess what had happened.

“My apologies. My chickens just can’t resist anything fuzzy.”

“It’s the cold season, after all. We’ll have to hide our fingers,” Lawrence answered, at which Reynolds laughed heartily.

“Wah-hah-hah! I don’t even want to imagine it! If they start pecking at my hangnails, I’ll throw them all into the pot, along with the chicks hatching tomorrow!”

Col smiled even as he casually rubbed his fingers, and Lawrence openly directed his gaze to the box Reynolds had set on the desk.

“What’s that?”

“Ah, this, you see—” said Reynolds, opening the box’s lid without hesitation. Lawrence couldn’t help bracing himself.

The box was packed tight with animal bones.

“This is the crystallized effort of all the people who so helpfully cooperated with the rumor that we were searching for the incredibly valuable remains of a lonely mountain village’s god.”

The roundabout, grandiose statement perfectly conveyed a sense of exhaustion with the subject, but just how serious the man was, Lawrence did not know.

Of course, if he was lying, Holo would tell him later.

“Are they real?”

“If only. Take a look around this trading house—can’t you tell? I didn’t buy these bones up out of greed, but now my shop’s on the verge of collapse.”

That he was nearly ruined was clearly a lie. At the very least, the shop was acting as a relay for goods coming down the Roam River, so it had to be making more profit than it appeared to be.

Still, Lawrence doubted the appearance of neglect was itself a lie.

The man’s eyes shone with childlike inquisitiveness. “Why would you care about this folly now?”

“Eve asked me the same question. These two were born in the north, you see.”

“Mm…,” intoned Reynolds, his eyes opening slightly wider. He had the face of a man who had been terribly mistaken. “I see, so…ah…I was a bit rash. Please don’t think poorly of me. I didn’t mean my bitterness over this foolish tale as an insult to your deity,” said Reynolds, rubbing his nose and spreading his palms as though confessing his sins to God in a church.

The fact that he had understood so much upon realizing that the two were born in the north proved how close the region was to the Roef Mountains.

And Lawrence could tell Reynolds respected the people from the north.

“In that case, I’m quite willing to cooperate with you. The truth is, this tale is an absurd one indeed.” Reynolds was able to change the conversation’s mood in a flash.

The moment he spoke, the neglected surroundings of the dingy trade house faded away, and it felt as though they were in the grand hall of the town council.

“Up in the mountains of Roef, there remain many legends the Church cannot overlook. Some of them are nearly impossible to believe, but others are difficult to doubt. I don’t know what region you’re from, but it was said that the remains of a wolf-god lay in a certain village, and I lived in a place that seemed likely.”

“Was it the village of Rupi?” Col interrupted.

His face was so serious that it was hard to imagine he had been on the verge of tears a moment ago because of chickens pecking at his sandals.

“Yes. If you know that name and you’re chasing this tale, you’re either very lucky to still be alive, or you’ve seen the unfairness of the world with your own eyes.”

Col had told them how Rupi had been taken by missionaries with swords and many people had been killed.

At Reynold’s words, Col nodded, his fists clenched.

“And you there next to him, miss…Merchants can’t take riches to the grave, but they can take their memories, so I don’t want to ask why you say you hail from the north but are dressed as a nun of the Church,” said Reynolds, letting a cynical smile twitch across one half of his face.

Holo, too, smiled slightly—she understood that the wish to experience only pure, beautiful things until heading to the grave was itself a folly to be laughed at.

“So, then, about the god of Rupi. I suppose it was the year before last, around the end of summer. Back then the missionaries and mercenaries were gallivanting all over the northern mountains and plains. Stories of this or that befalling this or that village were not uncommon. Among them, though, was a tale seized on by a trading company I was close with. Or perhaps I should say, they couldn’t help but seize on it.”

“The Debau Company, yes?”

If Lawrence let the man think they had come to him knowing nothing, he might well lie either to make a better tale or just to deceive them.

So to prevent that, Lawrence showed that they were not entirely ignorant.

Reynolds noticed the move and smiled. “Heh. This merchant bearing a letter from the wolf woman of the house of Bolan tells no lies. I respect her, and if she has put her trust in you, then I respect you, Kraft Lawrence, as well.” His smile was a serious one, and he seemed to be angry.

But Lawrence did not feel he had misspoken.

This was practically a ritual, a way to determine the rules of play between two merchants.

“I apologize for interrupting your tale.”

“Not at all. If I am the only one talking, I’ll never notice how long-winded I’m being. Since you’re not entirely ignorant of the situation, I should give you the important details.”

Reynolds coughed and straightened himself in his chair.

His gaze drifted to the wall as he looked back into his memory.

“There was a certain faction of the Church that for various reasons the Debau Company could not easily defy, and this faction brought them an offer. ‘Among the pagan stories we’ve gone into the mountains to investigate,’ they said, ‘there are some that are unlike the more absurd tales. They have shape and truth. And if that’s so, then you merchants who deal in everything on this earth, you should be able to go and find the shape and truth of this.’”

That he’d ventured to say it that way might well have been meant to imply that he was no friend of the Church himself.

“Just as we find alchemy mysterious and thus assume that alchemists can work miracles, it seems the men of the Church find our trading mysterious and wanting in virtue—and thus mistakenly think we can accomplish anything. But often in business there are requests we can’t refuse. And those always flow from high to low.”

“You’re right about that,” said Lawrence, at which Reynolds nodded, satisfied.

From the emperor to the palace merchant, from the palace merchant to the trade company he controlled, from the company to the branch, and from the branch manager to the commoner merchants at the bottom.

It was not rare for even goods respectfully presented to the emperor to have their origins with merchants who scraped and fought for every last copper coin.

Orders came from the top down, and goods flowed from the bottom up, and never the opposite.

“And our company is situated here at the bottom of the Roam River, which is ruled over by the great river spirit Roam. We must meet whatever comes down the river, whatever happens. Truly—”

Reynolds’s sagging cheeks jiggled as though they’d sagged all along just waiting for this day, this moment.

“—We must, no matter the cost.”

Lawrence nodded, looking down at the box that was so packed with bones on the desk.

Normally, even when a trading company somewhere was searching for goods, they would not be sent so very many.

But be they the bones of dog, cat, sheep, cow, or swine, the fact that this company had collected so many was because everybody in this town knew that the Jean Company was not conducting sensible business.

For it to be sensible business, someone would have had to be paying a fair price for sensible goods.

But if it was not sensible business, it was possible that money would be paid for even nonsensical goods.

And there existed the strong possibility that the Jean Company, and the Debau Company above them, might pay money for worthless bones if they thought the clergy who had given the original order would be satisfied.

And there were bones all over the place.

Making a small bet on that possibility was not a bad bet at all.

The most inconvenienced party was the Jean Company, who wound up playing bookmaker to those bets.

“And so it turned into quite a commotion, because some were saying that if the real bones were found, they would be paid a thousand, two thousand lumione for them.”

“So—” It was Col who spoke up as Reynolds paused and smiled self-deprecatingly. “—So, did you find the bones?”

Reynolds’s eyes, like pure glass beads beneath his drooping lids, showed no emotion but shifted for just a moment.

The question was a naive one and a breach of merchant conversation etiquette.

But those glassy eyes soon shifted back to ones befitting an easygoing shopkeeper, content to sit behind his desk and wait for customers as he watched his chickens peck at the floor.

A merchant had no call to turn angry at a naive question. Rather than show anger, he would treat the question appropriately.

Which meant that the merchant talk was now over.

“Heh. If I had, I’d be sitting at a golden desk right about now. Of course, at the time, rumors that I’d already found the bones and made a huge profit were flying around left and right, and I was attacked who knows how many times. But a little thought made it obvious. Just who had ever paid that much gold coin for something without attracting the attention of others?”

His teasing tone came from the fact that it was an absurd notion.

If this company had been paid a thousand gold coins, anybody doing business would notice the movement of money immediately.

It was the same as moving a mountain—even if you did it in the dead of night, people were going to notice come morning.

It was not something you could hide.

Col seemed to have realized that.

He nodded, crestfallen, but thanking Reynolds for answering his question.

That moment, Reynolds’s eyes widened in surprise—Lawrence was laughing.

Even if the question itself had been a terrible breach of merchant etiquette, Col’s polite thanks for the answer showed the kind of manners that most apprentices failed to remember even after a sound whipping.

He might have been sitting reluctantly behind the desk of his trading company, but Reynolds had a good merchant’s eye; there was no doubt about that.

So he turned that merchant’s eye to Lawrence.

“You’ve got yourself a fine apprentice there, Mr. Lawrence.”

The eye of a hawk who’s spotted its prey.

Surely that was no exaggeration.

“He’s not my apprentice.”

“Surely—!” said Reynolds, shocked, as though he simply could not believe it. When his gaze fell to Col, Lawrence immediately spoke.

“He’s a future scholar of Church law. If I said he was my apprentice, I’d never be able to pass through the gates of Heaven.”

Reynolds seemed not to know what sort of expression to make.

If Lawrence could ever surprise Holo enough for her to make that face, he was sure he would be able to grab her reins on the spot.

So surprised was Reynolds that he slapped his own forehead, totally at a loss. “Hrrrm! Born in the northlands, a future Church law scholar, and chasing tales of the god of his hometown…Well, I certainly see why that wolf woman would put her trust in a merchant like you. You seem like you’re on a very complicated—and truly enviable—journey.”

For merchants, who were keenly aware of human connections and influence, a future Church law scholar was like a golden egg—one whose eventual value could be roughly guessed based on his current manners and personality.

You’d always want to invest in someone whose future was bright.

The notion radiated off of Reynolds, but his gaze suddenly shifted to Holo and then to Lawrence. “So then, is this one from a famous convent somewhere?”

Holo, too, would have noticed the man’s predatory, hawklike gaze on Col.

But Reynolds hadn’t used that gaze on Holo.

He was asking Lawrence the question either because he felt bad about ignoring Holo or he simply wanted to make small talk.

But there was no chance that Holo was going to be satisfied with such slight treatment.

So then, how best to raise her worth?

That was one calculation she could perform as fast as any merchant.

No sooner had Holo heard Reynolds’s words than she hid herself behind Lawrence, clutching his clothes.

As though she were a shy maiden, fearful of strangers. As though she were claiming Lawrence as her guardian.

If merchants coveted even the possessions of the gods, then surely it was their nature to covet the things of other humans all the more.

The effect was perfect.

“Bwa-ha-ha-ha!” Reynolds burst out laughing, and Lawrence realized that Holo was peering out from behind him with a malicious smile on her face.

The ineffable battle of wits had two or three layers now.

Reynolds’s hearty laughter came from his realization that he had been completely fooled. “What fine guests you all are! What say you to this? It’ll be midday soon. Shall we all take a meal in celebration of our meeting?”

Lawrence, for his part, was quite happy with the proposal. Conversation with Reynolds was entirely stimulating. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to.”

“What wonderful fortune. I’ll summon one of my men to prepare some food. However”—here Reynolds’s gaze moved behind Lawrence to the Jean Company loading dock—“to do that I’ll need a single healthy chicken, but today it seems there isn’t a chicken to be found.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Col, at which Holo looked askance.

When they’d pecked at Col’s sandals, Holo had chased them around with a fierce enough gaze to give even another wolf pause, and now there was not a single chicken to be seen anywhere on the loading dock.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to call over my neighbors for dinner,” said Reynolds with an impish, childlike smile, which Col flailed at and Holo reluctantly went to capture a chicken.

Chicken and grape wine.

Bread and salt were necessary to live, but chicken and wine were probably two of the things necessary to truly enjoy life.

And all the more so when they were an unexpected treat.

Holo dug in before even hearing Reynolds’s “Please, eat,” while Col ate with the proper Church manners expected of a future scholar of law.

Col was surely the only one impressed with how grand Reynolds was to treat them to such a feast after they had so casually asked him about the wolf remains.

There at the meal table, amid the easy small talk, he told them about the great commotion two years earlier, when tales of the bones were at high tide, and what happened after that.

But merchants were always looking for payment.

Lawrence was worried about that payment, but it became clear only when they were about to part ways.

Reynolds sought Lawrence’s handshake. “My regards to Eve Bolan.” He held Lawrence’s hand firmly.

His eye was every bit that of a shrewd merchant.

Perhaps he wanted them to convey to her that he had told her customers all about the wolf remains and treated them to a good meal besides.

Perhaps he did it to strengthen his ties to Eve, thereby increasing his own business.

But while Reynolds’s Jean Company might have looked shabby, it should have already been well connected to the Debau Company and its mining profits.

It was possible that Reynolds’s experience with Eve had been so auspicious that he did not have very much to gain.

Or perhaps Eve was just that influential.

There were many things to worry about, but Lawrence had to be thankful for the kindness they were shown.

Lawrence returned Reynolds’s grasp heartily, then put the Jean Company behind him.

While Reynolds had been reluctant to get out of his chair when they had arrived, now that they were leaving, he saw them off from beneath the trading house’s eaves.

“Now, then,” Lawrence murmured to himself.

He had easily achieved his goal.

But he could not deny that in all of his conversation with Reynolds, something in the twists and turns failed to add up.

The state of the Jean Company, the moment when Lawrence had given Reynolds the letter he had gotten from Eve, and even Reynolds’s actions just a moment ago, when they were parting ways.

None of that led directly to the tale of the wolf remains, but the actions of merchants were often connected in surprising ways.

Deep in contemplation, Lawrence stroked his beard lightly.

“So, what shall we do?” His thoughts were interrupted by Holo.

And the moment he looked at Holo’s face, he thought of the poultry they had been treated to not long ago.

The meal in question had seen the chicken thighs boiled, then covered in a sauce made from vinegar, a touch of sweet herbs, and crushed mustard seed—a true delicacy.

As to how magnificent it had actually been—well, there was still a fragment of the sweet herbs stuck to the corner of Holo’s mouth.

Lawrence flicked it off with a finger, and Holo closed one eye in irritation.

But Lawrence soon realized that she was not trying to hide embarrassment at being treated like a child.

Holo had looked away and given Col a quick wink.

Col, while surprised, also looked impressed and nodded. Lawrence watched all this and sighed.

Evidently Holo had put Col to a bet as to whether Lawrence would brush the herb crumb off her mouth.

“Yes…what, indeed,” Lawrence murmured. There was no profit in her game. Lawrence pretended not to notice the wink.

“He told us everything a lot more easily than I was expecting. It’s kind of disappointing, isn’t it?”

“Oh?”

“I was sure he’d try to hide more from us,” said Col.

At Col’s words, it was now Lawrence’s turn to shoot Holo a quick glance.

Their gazes met for a moment, and they both looked away quickly.

That had to mean that Holo had realized something during the earlier conversation.

Lawrence chose his words and spoke. “…Yes, well. We’ve confirmed that the Church believed the story from Rupi to be true, which means that there was something for them to believe in. Which is a big step forward.”

Col nodded several times, his face serious.

However, if Holo was feeling something ominous from Reynolds’s words and actions, then things might not be so simple.

As the ensuing question would be hard to answer, Lawrence refrained from mentioning this to Col.

Col was simply too kind.

Even for someone as cynical as Holo, talking about her homeland was a dangerous proposition.

It would be best to wait for the right moment and explain things carefully.

“But there is one unfortunate thing.”

“…?” Col looked up at Lawrence, his head cocked in a question.

“Since we learned what we needed to know so easily, it looks like we won’t need to use our trump card.”

“Ah…you mean about the copper coins?”

Fifty-seven boxes packed with copper coins coming down the river had—after crossing the sea from the Jean Company—become sixty boxes, which was quite mysterious.

Lawrence suspected that this might be a vulnerable spot for the Jean Company.

If the Jean Company had tried to hide the story of the wolf remains, he could have used it to shake them down, and he had explained as much to Col.

However, because he had assumed that the simple fact of the box count not adding up would be sufficient leverage on the Jean Company, Lawrence still had not heard the reason of the discrepancy from Col.

Lawrence had not, of course, figured it out on his own.

“Well, if there’s no reason to use it, you can just tell me once our journey’s over, by way of thanks.”

Col, who had understood the reason all by himself, nodded, then gave a satisfied smile.

“Now then, as far as this all goes, about all we can do is go back to Eve and thank her, gathering some information along the way. And we shouldn’t hurry too much. We don’t want to be suspected of anything.”

“…Er, so…because if there’s anyone seriously following us, we’ll wind up making them think we’re up to something, right?”

The boy’s constant studiousness was certainly admirable.

Lawrence nodded. “Reynolds and Eve didn’t mind telling us all about the wolf remains because they’ve both thought the whole thing through and decided it’s nonsense. If they hear anything that gives it the ring of truth, they’ll both shut their mouths on the spot.”

“So if we keep searching for the tale too seriously, they’ll start to wonder if we’ve discovered a key that proves the story is true.”

And, of course, the key that proved the story was true was none other than Holo’s existence.

Col was well aware of that as he held up his right index finger, with an expression on his face as if he were a chef explaining that a dish’s secret ingredient was just a dash of fresh herbs.

Or like a puppy proudly performing a trick he had just learned.

But he did not seem cheeky or arrogant, probably because Col himself was affecting the proud attitude purposefully.

He was just genuinely friendly.

“But the irony is that we can ask about it so easily because nobody believes it’s true. Even though we’re asking so we can figure out the truth.”

“It’s also a question of faith. You have to have the courage to believe you’re right even when everyone around you says you’re wrong.”

Col nodded gravely.

“So this would be one way to put that into practice: If a priest asks God if the people can be saved and gets no reply, it’s not because God is being careless, but rather the question is…?”

The future Church law scholar rang like a cast bell when struck. “The question’s obvious is the reason.”

This kind of calm, pleasant intellectual discussion was a bit different from what he had with Holo.

Lawrence had heard that true scholars had conversations like this from morning till night, and he felt like he understood why.

The two were walking aimlessly as they talked, and somewhere along the line, Col had begun walking beside Lawrence, which was not bad at all.

If they were to walk like this for another ten years, he was sure Col would become a dear friend.

When Lawrence thought on it, he started to look forward to the future in spite of himself.

But someone came between the two.

Someone who had been left out of the conversation—Holo.

“Seems like pleasant chat’s happening right before me,” she said, her face a bit annoyed.

Lawrence decided it was better not to try to analyze what that statement might mean.

“If there is no need to go straight back to that vixen’s burrow, then I’ve a place I’d like to go.”

“And that is?” asked Lawrence, and Holo pointed to the mouth of the river.

“That lively looking place.”

It went without saying that she meant the marketplace on the delta.

Her tail was wagging beneath her robe, and she was probably anticipating eating something tasty.

From the stimulating intellectual conversation with Col, they had returned to the usual obvious topics.

Lawrence directed his eyes past Holo to Col.

Col nodded a little hesitantly.

About half of Holo’s desire to go to the delta was for her own sake—the other half was for Col’s.

It was difficult to weigh the merits of Col’s intellectual conversation against Holo’s frank obviousness—because Holo’s words always concealed something else.

So Lawrence replied, hiding something in his words to Holo as well.

“You only ever think about food,” he said as though at a loss, at which Holo’s amber eyes rolled and her upper lip curled into a sneering smile.

“I am always thinking about you, as well,” she said in a higher, flattering tone, clinging to Lawrence’s arm.

Lawrence had forgotten to put an herb crumb in the corner of his own mouth, so this made them even.

Col’s face turned red, and he seemed not to know where he should look.

Lawrence could not help feeling a little bit superior, but he also could not simply enjoy it.

As to why, that was because in exchange for her performance, Holo would be expecting compensation.

“That’s because I am your food.” Lawrence paid his price, which made Holo grin, her ears moving enough to nearly brush her hood back.

“So you’ll loosen your purse strings a bit for me?”

Lawrence looked at Col.

“What do you think?” his gaze asked.

And when it came to this sort of verbal sparring, Col was able to answer as well as Holo. “I think you’ll need to get a room.”

“Yes, I do need some wine,” said Lawrence, wrapping up Col’s perfect joke.

The delta in the town of Kerube had a large reservoir in the center.

All sorts of fish, big and small, were kept in it, and occasionally groups of turtles or waterfowl would congregate there.

But no golden-haired poet would sit at the water’s edge spinning rhyme, and the words spoken there were not verses of the place’s surpassing beauty.

Because the fish in the reservoir swam in circles within nets and the turtles and waterfowl would eventually have their legs or mouths bound.

The words spoken at the waterfront were straightforward amounts and negotiations. The throats that shouted them were stout and strong, as were the hands that grabbed at the fish.

The people who came to the market to do business called the reservoir the spring of gold.

Kerube’s delta market extended two hundred paces north from the reservoir, two hundred paces south, three hundred to the east, and four hundred to the west.

This extent had been decided in the distant past, and while it seemed the delta had plenty of space to accommodate the market, as far as Lawrence had heard or seen, it had never been expanded.

Which meant, of course, that the buildings were built to conserve land area.

The constant complaint about the overcrowding was that it was so bad you could see your neighbor’s ledger.

No sooner had Lawrence and company arrived on the delta than Holo flattened her ears back.

It might have been a bit of a joke, but Lawrence didn’t think it was necessarily for show.

No matter when you came, the largest market in the port town of Kerube possessed an unbelievable commotion.

“Is today a festival day or something?” a taken-aback Col asked Holo, who stood next to him as they crossed the pier after Lawrence had paid the boatman.

The delta had three docks, and Lawrence and company had arrived at the one used almost exclusively by traffic going to and from the north side of the town. So instead of the gate made from run-aground ships that was the market’s most famous landmark, there was a quarried stone that had been brought ashore and simply left there.

The market proper started just past that with crowds of people standing shoulder to shoulder, none of them looking directly ahead but instead gazing intently at the shops they passed as they walked by.

“Hmm? This is hardly the only place so crowded, you know. I have been to towns where they’re like this through and through,” Holo said sagely, puffing up in a matter not so unlike Col himself.

“I-is that so…? The only really crowded place I’ve ever been is Aquent…”

“Aye. Do not worry; youth is an ignorant time. All you need do is watch and learn.”

“That’s surely true. After all, you said nearly the same thing to me the first time we visited a port town,” said Lawrence from behind the two, putting his hand on Holo’s head.

In the centuries Holo had spent in Pasloe, the world had changed enough for even a god to grow old. When it came to being ignorant about the state of the world, Holo was surely the worse offender.

But when it came to boasting, the same was true.

Irritated, she brushed Lawrence’s hand off her head and glared at him threateningly. “As the contents of your coin purse are so small, aye, you must truly enjoy boasting of how much more worldly you are than I!”

“I could say precisely the same thing to you. The only large city you’ve ever visited is Ruvinheigen!”

Holo drew her chin in and puffed her cheeks out.

Col had been watching the exchange nervously, but this made Holo’s “play with me!” attitude all too obvious.

“Only because you’re a skinflint of a traveling merchant who pinches every penny, even for food. I lived a captive’s life, unable to go where I wished. Or will you take me where I wish to go?”

They were difficult words, heavy with implication and calling into question their entire journey so far—if Lawrence misinterpreted even one, he could expect a sound kick in the rear.

Col seemed not to know how much of it was a joke, and he was unable to hide his discomfort.

So Lawrence answered courteously and carefully. “Merchants interpret everything through money. So as long as it costs nothing, I will cooperate with you as much as you need.”

“For example?” asked Holo, giving a rare half smile beneath her hood.

She seemed incapable of hiding the absurdity of her own performance.

“For example…hmm…,” said Lawrence, thinking. Holo irritatedly struck him, then grabbed his clothes and pulled him close.

“In that case, how about some pillow talk? Or do I need to make it clearer than that?”

She had made it quite clear enough, Lawrence stopped himself from saying.

Just when he thought they were fighting, the tone of the exchange had taken a sudden change, and Col’s face reddened as he swallowed and watched the two.

Lawrence mused that being an actor would not be so bad.

“It’s true that pillow talk doesn’t cost anything. Although whenever I carry you to bed, you’re always drunk.”

Holo slipped away from Lawrence, a malicious smile on her face.

Lawrence prepared himself to show his best you-got-me face.

“What else can I do? Your conversation is far too boring to endure sober.”

Lawrence wanted someone to compliment them on having matured so much that they could engage in such an obvious parody of their usual conversation.

“Now then, shall we have a look around?” suggested Holo, smacking her lips with relish, apparently satisfied with their joking.

What she wanted to have a look at was not the market itself, but rather the food arrayed within it.

Despite having just eaten her fill of chicken, her belly was evidently already empty.

“U-um, what food is this town known for, I wonder…,” said Col to Holo, still trying to be polite to her despite being totally unable to keep up with the rapid shifts in the conversation thus far.

“Hmph. When you say it like that, it makes it sound like all I care about is food.”

“Wha—? N-no, that’s not what I—”

If her robe had been pulled off, no doubt Holo’s tail would have been swishing to and fro as she toyed with Col mercilessly. In any case, Lawrence was not listening to Col’s stumbling words as he was teased.

He started walking alone, then passed the stone that served as a gate and turned back.

“Come, hurry!”

Despite the noise of the bustling market, the clear tone of a lass’s voice would still attract attention.

A merchant who was sitting on the stone and writing something glanced at Holo, the hand on his slate going awry. Paradoxically, her slim, chaste features made it obvious she was abstaining for profit. From the perspective of an ascetic hermit, this was a grave sin.

Following Holo’s gaze led to Lawrence, which at the very least made things unfavorable.

And though the merchant soon dropped his gaze back to his slate and continued writing, Lawrence could clearly see that he could not help occasionally letting it slip past the edge of the slate, and only with effort did Lawrence hide a rueful chuckle.

“Stop your dallying! Come, now—” shouted Holo. Though it was unclear whether she was aware of the gaze upon her, she felt rushed enough that the tip of her swishing tail poked out from under her robe, and having shouted, she suddenly fell silent.

“…?”

No matter how good at acting she might have been, even the best disguise would wear thin if it was worn long enough.

And this did not seem like an act, so like the young merchant before him had just done, Lawrence followed Holo’s gaze.

And then he saw.

Col looked back, too, and clapped his hand over his mouth, glancing surreptitiously at Lawrence.

At the end of Holo’s gaze, just getting off the boat, was the familiar form of a certain merchant.

Wearing the same clothes as usual, regarding everything in the world as so many coins to be counted past sleepy, half-lidded eyes, the owner of that fearless gaze turned it upon Lawrence.

But the faint surprise that Eve evinced was surely not a skillful act, but genuine.

For around Eve were two men, both well dressed and well fed, trailed by two men also well dressed but with sinister looks in their eyes—the encounter had to be a coincidence.

The young merchant who had been sitting on the rock pondering his business noticed Eve and the others and scrambled to his feet, trotting into the marketplace as though making his escape.

An older fishmonger, standing idly beside his fish cart as he waited for his broker to show up, bowed respectfully as if he were meeting an ocean spirit.

The men around Eve seemed to regard the actions of the young merchant and the old fishmonger as completely ordinary. It was as though Lawrence were the abnormal one, and they stared at him openly, as though appraising him.

Then they sniffed, as if he was beneath their contempt.

They turned and regarded Eve as if asking what this boy’s problem was.

“I thought for sure you’d headed south…but maybe sightseeing comes first,” said Eve in an amused tone.

The youngest of the four men handled the payment of their ferryman’s fee.

Eve did not even glance at them, instead facing Lawrence as she spoke.

She spared Holo only a moment’s look, and Lawrence was sure that if he had checked, Holo’s eyes would have been full of hostility.

The men around Eve murmured into each other’s ears as they considered Lawrence.

“Yes, as a bit of a break from work. My wound still aches a bit, you see.” Lawrence let some hostility slip into his voice as he could feel Holo’s gaze boring into his back.

Eve would surely understand that much.

She narrowed her eyes faintly, and raising her hand, gave two, then three signals to the men.

The two well-fed men directed unfriendly smiles at Lawrence, and the two mean-eyed ones completely ignored the group as they passed, heading into the marketplace.

Just as in the legend from the scriptures, as they walked, the sea of people seemed to part before them.

They had to be powerful figures in the town.

Just as they walked away, Holo approached Lawrence.

“For my part, I was in the middle of resting up when that lot flushed me out. They’re big fish on the north side for Kerube,” said Eve.

“Are they merchants?” Lawrence asked, at which Eve shook her head.

“They’re not involved in buying or selling goods, but they’re awfully good at bookkeeping.”

Eve’s eyes were colored with her distaste, and in an instant, Lawrence understood exactly what sort of men they were. They probably had special privileges in Kerube.

They might have been landowners, or perhaps they controlled tax collection or fishing licensure. At the very least, it was clear that they lived in a world where simply relaxing in a chair would bring money flowing to them.

If they were making even the slightest bow in Eve’s direction, they must know how useful she could be.

Or perhaps despite their power, they still lacked a noble title.

Lawrence could not be sure, but the situation smelled highly amusing.

“If you’re interested, come to the spring of gold. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Just as Eve left, she shot Holo a quick glance.

Then her form entered the throng in the marketplace, and she disappeared—as if she could blend into or stand out of a crowd at will.

Impressed, Lawrence watched her go before a kick from Holo brought him back to the present.

“You’ve some nerve, watching another female right in front of me.”

Lawrence had heard that line somewhere before but only shrugged, not offering a proper answer. “Shall I look only at you from now on, then?” he inquired, playfully bring his face close to Holo’s and boldly touching her cheek.

An irritated Holo then immediately started walking toward the marketplace.

“Ah, Miss Holo!” Col reflexively followed her but stopped short after a step.

He looked back hesitantly. “E-er—”

“Hmm?”

“Are you not going to…?”

By which he of course meant following Holo.

Col was probably worried that by running after Holo, he was usurping Lawrence’s role.

“I am not. I think she’d like you to go with her.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t think so?” asked Lawrence, and Col shook his head.

Even if he were released, Col surely would not try to fix his mussed hair.

Evidently, he was too busy thinking about other things to bother with it.

“I’ll admit that you’re clever, but even a bit of thought should have led you to conclude that I’ve got no leg to stand on.” Lawrence smiled and fixed Col’s hair. “It’s true that she’s angry with me. But the part where she’s quarreling with me, that’s a lie.”

Lawrence reached into the leather coin purse slung around his hip and produced a single silver trenni.

He then touched the coin to Col’s nose. “This should be more than enough for all the food and drink you could want. Be careful that Holo doesn’t have too much wine.”

“…”

Col seemed not to understand why Lawrence was not pursuing Holo, and he accepted the coin with a deeply perplexed expression.

“She can see right through me, you see. She knows Eve’s words have caught my interest. But she also hates Eve and doesn’t want to have to see her face.”

Col wore a look that said, “And then?” but Lawrence explained no further, giving Col’s back a little shove, adding that if he wanted to know more, he should ask Holo.

He hesitated for a moment, but he was a smart boy and walked away as he was told.

Though she had already disappeared into the crowd, Holo would surely find Col.

“Well, then.”

Eve had said to come to the spring of gold.

Lawrence understood what that meant.

He had learned that any important meeting regarding the port town of Kerube would be held by the delta’s spring of gold.

If it were held on the north side, the northerners would try to press their advantage, likewise for the south side; this was a measure against that.

If an impoverished noblewoman with her eye on becoming a wealthy merchant would go there with such powerful townsmen, it was certain to be something that any merchant worthy of the name would want to attend.

In the face of that, no possible amusement could compare.

Of course, it would have been easy enough for Holo to take Lawrence by the scruff of the neck and turn his attention back toward her, but a clever wolf like her understood the cost of doing so.

Far better for her to withdraw, thereby drawing something out of Lawrence.

And Lawrence had accepted the bargain.

He ran his hand through his hair ruefully, wishing that he could read Holo’s heart as easily as he had understood the bargain they had just struck.

No doubt Holo was at a loss herself.

“A trenni for sightseeing, eh?”

As he folded his arms and craned his neck, he wondered if he had gotten too brave and handed over too much money.

But at least he would hear no complaints.

Lawrence walked, heading into the market for the first time in quite a while.

He felt he had melted into the crowd quite well.

All that was left was the squalid hustle and bustle of the marketplace, humming like an army of ants.

The marketplace was a little world of its own.

Whether it was true or not, it was said that the delta marketplace was built upon countless piles driven into the sand. Most of the buildings were stone to prevent—it was rumored—the pile-supported marketplace from being washed away by the river. Lawrence could understand that much, as the nails of wooden construction would instantly start to rust and rot, but he could not help but worry that stone buildings would sink into the sand.

Of course, he had never heard of anything like that happening so far, so it had to be working.

Due to the way things were, wind would carry sand through the spaces between buildings, where it would accumulate, calling to mind the markets of desert towns far to the south.

Words carried on the wind directed him through the twists and turns of the market’s center, and he arrived without incident at the spring of gold.

Around the spring, a round plaza was constructed with roads leading away from it to the north, south, east, and west.

Marking the spring’s very center was a long and high pylon.

Three blackened, dried fish were affixed to the pylon, perhaps as a kind of charm, and atop it perched a single seagull.

At one spot at the edge of the spring, three sets of tables and chairs were arranged, around which stood three guards with leather chest pieces. The men carried spears nearly twice as long as they were tall.

Taking a look around, Lawrence saw that the inns and lodgings surrounding the spring all had their second-story windows left open. All the faces peering out through them seemed to be those of well-to-do merchants, perhaps among them some who had women waiting on them within and were indulging themselves a bit.

Lawrence was, of course, not so wealthy that he could indulge in spectating from an inn, so he bought an ale from one of the opportunistically positioned open-air stalls, settling himself at an appropriate distance so that he could hear the conversation at the tables.

He did not see Eve, but there were already men he recognized for who they were, sitting in the chairs, each whispering into the ears of his staff.

There was no need to bother asking anybody the topic of discussion.

No tongue was as loose as that of a merchant anticipating amusement.

Merchants who were tight-lipped when talk of profit came up were only too happy to gossip.

Just by listening to the strong spirit seller talking loudly to his neighbor, Lawrence could glean the general idea.

The man seemed to be a merchant who was stopping over during a sea voyage, but he was extremely drunk, making him harder to understand. But the gist seemed to be that there was a debate going on over whether to expand the marketplace.

Lawrence had heard similar talk when he had visited in the past, so perhaps it was a common topic.

However, thinking about it simply suggested that expanding the delta marketplace would increase the traffic of merchants and goods, which in turn would increase the taxes the town collected, so it seemed as if there would be little to discuss and that everyone would agree.

Of course, things were not so simple, so the debate went on and on—and in such cases, the interests of the people in power reigned supreme.

Lawrence brought his ale to his lips, gazing at the men at the tables with a wry smile, wondering just what sort of greed-stained play was about to be performed.

Just then, something else suddenly caught his eye, and in that instant, the gull sitting atop the central pylon flew away.

Immediately thereafter—or perhaps immediately before—the sound of a bell ringing echoed sharply across the plaza, and the surrounding chatter swiftly fell silent.

When Lawrence looked at the tables placed at the edge of the spring, the participants in the discussion there had all risen, extending their right hands and proclaiming the beginning of the meeting.

“In the name of the great spirit of the river, Roam!”

They then took their seats, and the three guards looked up into the sky and shook their spears three times.

It was full of as much pomp as the council of wise men of the ancient empire, but it was probably necessary in order to give the meeting the authority it needed.

Lawrence could guess how often someone had tried to question the council’s authority.

If the meeting lacked the authority to set town policy, the town would quickly descend into civil unrest. It would be like a mercenary troop without a commander.

A nation was no different, which was why kings claimed their right to rule to be bestowed by God.

Lawrence took another swig of ale. “Seems like things are hard everywhere,” he couldn’t help murmuring, a wry smile on his face.

“You think so, too, eh?”

Lawrence nearly spit out his ale at the sudden, unexpected reply to his idle statement.

He hurriedly turned to face the direction from which the voice had emanated, and it was the one person he had not spied at the meeting—Eve.

“Why so startled? It’s as though you’ve something to hide.”

From behind the scarf wrapped about her head, her eyes smiled faintly.

“…Merchants keep their secrets and their coins tucked safely away in their purses, after all.”

“I’d like to take mine to the grave, if I can.”

“Quite right.” Lawrence slumped exaggeratedly, which Eve laughed at like a carefree town lass. “So, what business might you have with a gossipy traveling merchant like me?”

“Such cheek. I doubt I’ll ever forget your hands closing around my throat so long as I live.”

It was hard for Lawrence to hear.

But even the grandest general had quarreled with someone as a child and come home crying.

“And here I thought you’d be over there sitting in one of those seats.”

“That ceremony? If there was anything to be gained from that, I’d pray to God a little more often,” declared Eve, turning her narrowed eyes to the spring’s edge.

Lawrence openly regarded Eve’s profile but could not guess her real intention.

Was her talkativeness thanks to a good mood or a bad one?

If Eve were a wolf like Holo, it would surely be the latter, Lawrence thought to himself.

He heard a loud cough from the edge of the spring, which was followed by the formal declaration of the topic.

“The meeting’s started.”

Just as the liquor-swilling merchants beside them had predicted, the meeting regarded the expansion of the delta marketplace.

The man who pronounced the topic was one of the same well-dressed men who had disembarked from the boat with Eve, and he seemed accustomed to public speaking.

“It’s not quite a farce, but a meeting’s conclusion always comes from somewhere outside the participants, don’t you think?”

Lawrence’s reply to Eve was delayed thanks to a feeling not unlike envy that came over him. “…So, you’re saying they’ve entrusted their under-the-table dealings to you.”

Eve sighed and shrugged. “Not to put too fine a point on it.”

“I’m wondering why you’d bother idling around with me, then,” said Lawrence, debating whether he had let more envy than was necessary color his voice but deciding that this small amount of covetousness would be forgiven.

After all, winning the trust of powerful town officials was an almost blindingly brilliant honor for a lowly traveling merchant.

Yet the moment Eve heard Lawrence’s words, he was surprised to see her gape in apparent surprise.

It hadn’t been that surprising, he thought—but then noticed that Eve’s gaze had returned to the meeting.

Apparent representatives of the north and south were exchanging words, but with seemingly less vigor than they should have been, even appearing rather silly.

Lawrence looked back at Eve a moment after her surprise.

And when he saw Eve’s face, she was smiling as she had been when she looked at Col, Lawrence thought to himself—but then he thought better of it.

It was the same expression she had worn when they each put their lives on the line in Lenos, the town of lumber and fur.

“If I said it made me happy you were honestly envious, would you laugh?”

Lawrence understood the reason why her eyes were fixed on the meeting immediately before her.

He doubted there was a wolf anywhere that was honest or obedient.

“I’d laugh, all right.”

Merchants to a one spent their days hiding their true motives, always trying to deceive one another for their own profit.

If he were to obey that near instinct, the correct course would be for Lawrence to try to read Eve’s mood and see if he could get in on whatever under-the-table deal she was conducting. Envy was a secondary priority, and letting that envy show was not even a consideration.

And yet if a merchant’s acquaintances were all other merchants, that unavoidably meant that they were all also hiding their true motives and trying to take whatever advantage they could.

And even a legendary hero needed a break sometimes.

So Lawrence’s insensitive admission of his own envy had actually made this wolf happy.

Eve looked down in self-deprecation, and when she looked back up, her eyes were as clear as melted snow.

“I was right to spot you and call you over. The truth is, I was rather melancholy about having been summoned by that lot.” Eve indicated the meeting with irritation.

“It won’t make you any money?” inquired Lawrence, and even with the scarf she was wearing, he could tell her mouth twisted into a sneer.

“I played with fire in Lenos and on the Roam River, but yes, that’s one of the reasons I could breathe a little easier once I entered Kerube.”

A political patron. Or a backer with sufficient wealth to put her beyond the ability of local lords to arrest.

Either way, they would hardly consider Eve an equal.

Such people existed, even for traveling merchants who prided themselves on their independence.

Despite having fallen into poverty, she had a noble name and had dragged herself up from the depths, yet there was no telling how many burdens she still carried.

When Lawrence and company met her in front of the town entrance, Eve paid them proper respect, but he realized, seeing her now, that it might not have been so simple a thing.

“I’m sort of a mercenary for them, but they’ve ordered me to do something essentially impossible. Do you know the story behind this marketplace?”

Presented with such a tale, Lawrence shook his head without a trace of pride.

“Scores of years ago, it was a group of merchants from the south who proposed the marketplace because they wanted a place to trade with the north. However, the landowners were a little short on wisdom and thought that if they sold the land, it would be a huge loss, so they bragged they would construct their own market. Even if it drove them into a deep debt.”

“The landholders were from the north. The moneylenders were from the south.”

Eve pushed aside her scarf and took a couple drafts of her ale, then set her cup back down. “Yes. The men over there are the sons of the ones who borrowed the money and those who lent it. In exchange for not losing the land and receiving exorbitant rent for its use, they wind up paying an equivalent amount of interest. Of course, the landowners cannot hide their irritation at this and are constantly looking for a way out.”

“But they haven’t found one.”

Eve nodded, and her eyes turned cold and appraising, as if she could count how many silver coins a human life was worth. “So, what will the second generation look for next? The answer is simple: a scapegoat.”

Eve’s face was as still as the surface of a lake.

She was certainly trying to become a merchant prince, but right now she was only a modestly wealthy trader.

She did use others—she was used by them.

Eve had been told to overturn the problem surrounding the north side, the south side, and their marketplace—which she knew perfectly well was impossible for anyone.

But she was not expected to successfully solve the problem, rather to shoulder the blame for failing to do so, thereby acting as the unlucky distraction, which would take attention off the landlords’ own grievances.

Lawrence found himself wishing, as someone once bested by Eve, for her triumph.

“Still, I don’t have a monopoly on misfortune. You saw Reynolds’s place, didn’t you?” asked Eve nonchalantly. That Lawrence’s strengths and hers were so different was surely because the oceans they had traversed were so different.

“Yes…it was shabbier than I expected.”

“Hah. At least be a little more circumspect about it. But even a place that deals only in copper exports has its profit swallowed up by the powers that be. That’s the sort of place this is.”

There was no place as pitiful as one with no money and only power.

It was the truth of the world that the wealthy never quarreled.

“But I mustn’t get you involved in any trouble. I’m off to negotiate, I suppose.”

Eve thanked Lawrence for the ale and started to walk away.

Lawrence could not help but to call out to her receding form. “I had no problems hearing the story of the wolf remains!”

Eve looked back, her expression unchanging, then resumed her previous direction and kept walking.

But Lawrence was fairly certain that the faint smile he had detected beneath her scarf had not been his imagination.

Eve’s actions had been entirely purposeful.

As though she had wanted him to call out.

Unlike the rest of the merchants, Lawrence did not watch the tables, instead continuing to follow Eve’s back as she receded.

Eventually, at quite a distance from the crowd, she hailed a group of eccentric-seeming merchants who, judging by their clothes, seemed to be from the south.

And just as Eve was with the north, they were surely the merchant mercenaries working for the south.

Lawrence was sure that if he asked their names and affiliations, he would feel some sense of affinity for them, but still he could not help but cheer for Eve.

In Lenos, the town of lumber and fur, he witnessed Eve’s preparedness and her willingness to risk her own life, and on the Roam River, he had to tip his hat to her thorough use of every possible method to attain her goal.

And yet when circumstances changed, she was the one being used.

Of course, in exchange for being so used, she surely profited herself.

But Lawrence thought he could understand Eve, who could so easily leave Lenos, where she had cut deeply into Church authority, and Kerube, where she was well connected to the powers that be, in order to get herself and her furs south.

She was not some hero who would cleave the world open with naught but her sword and her hand, but rather an ordinary merchant who occasionally had to sip her share of mud.

“A merchant can never play the leading role,” held a famous merchant’s saying.

Lawrence was glad Holo was not with him, he realized a few moments later.

And he was glad he had ordered ale instead of wine, he thought after peering into the bottom of the cup.

His own face was surely rather pathetic at the moment.

Holo’s rage came from the Church subjecting the remains of the wolf-god to terrible treatment in the name of missionary work, but such incidents were probably not rare.

Lawrence was not like Reynolds of the Jean Company, but he hoped he would only bring beautiful memories to the grave.

Lawrence murmured as much inwardly, then looked back at the ongoing meeting as its artificial bickering continued, and he swallowed a bitter sigh with a drink of ale.

By reputation, the delta marketplace was a captivating microcosm of the world, holding goods from scores of nations. On the winds that blew through it were carried dozens of languages, it was said.

But Lawrence could not deny that hearing and seeing were very different things, as the feeling he got on first setting foot in the marketplace was similar to the impression he had upon first seeing the Jean Company.

Goods were not piled high the way they were in markets that were only open a few days out of the year, and there were neither people visiting for business, nor hawkers trying to pry loose coins from the travelers who were stopping in the market midway through their journeys.

The marketplace was choked with crowds, but a close inspection of the shops that were lined up revealed that establishments with actual goods on display were few. Instead, they merely hung signs for goods in amounts far exceeding what someone would need in their daily lives, and without speaking to the shopkeeper, no samples were shown.

Lawrence had wanted to try some foreign food, but the marketplace was so crowded that no space for friendly drinking and relaxation could exist. For drink, there were only a few shops selling ale and wine in bulk.

Business required an atmosphere of excitement, of vigor—not confusion and violence.

For that reason, the number of taverns was controlled, and the sights of soldiers on guard with arms on their belts were not rare.

All this meant that there were a limited number of places for Lawrence to go, which any clever person would have realized after a quick circuit through the crowded marketplace.

Instead of Lawrence finding his companion, then, it was more accurate to say that the merchant was found by her.

Reasoning that Holo and Col would be amusing themselves in their way, after having his fill of watching the town’s movers and shakers perform their little farce, Lawrence arrived at a first-floor tavern in search of Holo.

Just as he was deciding whether or not to open the door, a voice called out to him from above.

“Come, you.”

Lawrence did not reply but pushed the tavern’s door open in a long-suffering manner.

The words that he uttered immediately upon entering the small second-floor room, containing the source of the voice that so blithely called out to him, were not entirely sarcastic. “You’re certainly living it up.”

“Am I? We’ve but used the silver coin you gave us.”

There was a table and chair next to the window, but Holo sat on the windowsill, drinking.

Though she was clearly visible from the street outside, her ears and tail were exposed to the world. She was either drunk or confident that she would not be recognized.

“Using a whole trenni on wine without a single hesitation is simply…well, I’ll have to explain it to you sooner or later.” Lawrence picked up a small cask that had been left on the floor, empty, and took a whiff, sighing.

Having a discerning palate while also being a big eater and drinker was a bad combination.

“Where’s Col?”

There were plates that had clearly once held some kind of meat dish on the table, so perhaps he’d been sent out to buy more.

“Just what you’re thinking.” Evidently the wine was keeping Holo warm, as she seemed to find the cold air that came through the window quite pleasant.

“Honestly…don’t drive him too hard now.”

Lawrence picked up the wine cask that was on the table and sat on the little bed with which the small room had been provided.

It was a poorly made bed to be sure, but to those used to traveling like livestock in the cramped conditions of a ship, it was as fine as any royal canopy bed.

Of course, if relaxing in a room like this with a cup of wine in one hand was all most people needed to feel better once they were released onto dry land after being packed into a ship’s hold, then there’d be no need for the Church’s sermons.

Holo had probably rented the room without knowing any of this, and once she did become aware of it, she seemed vaguely uncomfortable.

“So, did you hear anything new?” she asked while facing out, her head cocked against the windowpane and her eyes closed, the breeze caressing her cheek.

She seemed to be listening to the tones of a lute that drifted in from outside or possibly to be thinking about something.

A closer look revealed that her ears were minutely twitching in time to the sound, so it had to be the former.

“Does it look like I did?” Lawrence took a drink of the sweet wine, which was perfectly suited for relaxation.

“Aye. You seem pleased.”

Though her eyes were still closed, it was as though she could still see right through him.

Lawrence rubbed his face and smiled sheepishly. “Pleased?”

Though he was confident he had erased all traces of his conversation with Eve from his expression, Holo’s reluctantly opened eyes had a certain mean smile in them. “You’re a century too young to try lying to me.”

For a moment, Lawrence wondered if she had somehow overheard his conversation at the spring all the way from here but quickly realized that was not the case.

It was a bluff.

Lawrence put his hand to his forehead with a sigh in front of Holo, whose tail swished happily.

“Well, ’tis true I took notice of your pleased face. If you’re tripped up by such a ruse, you’ve much to learn yet.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

“’Tis doubtful whether you’ll be able to fit it in that wee mind of yours,” Holo said impishly, ducking her head and grinning.

“…I see. Anyway, it’s not quite true that I’m pleased. To be honest, it’s the sort of story that makes me want strong wine rather than sweet.”

“Aye?” Holo uncrossed her legs and stood. She was slightly unsteady. The wine was probably catching up to her. “Ho…’tis a bit cold,” she said, sitting next to Lawrence and leaning against him.

Lawrence found himself thinking of the many travelers who found themselves in a similar position after being released from their harsh sea voyages and took what solace they could in a brief tryst.

But this was Holo.

She brought her feet up and turned her back to Lawrence, leaning against him and embracing her own tail.

Lawrence felt only a small twinge of disappointment—which was probably Holo’s plan.

“So, of what tale did you hear tell?”

In contrast to Lawrence’s very much-occupied mind, Holo was as she always was.

If he kept dwelling on this, she’d make a fool of him.

Lawrence exhaled slightly and answered, “The dark side of this town, I suppose.”

“Oh, aye?”

“Simply put, it’s a matter of debt and payment, but the amount is rather enormous.”

Holo gulped down her wine as though it were the morning’s first water.

It was sweet enough that it could be drunk that way, but she probably should have stopped.

Thinking as much, Lawrence reached for the small cask she was holding, when—

“Have you any notion of how many words I just swallowed with this wine?”

As it was, after Lawrence reached over, Holo was beneath his arm.

And suddenly, she was a wolf baring her fangs.

“If ’twas talk of money that was none of your concern, you ought to have been wagging your tail in delight. But you weren’t—why, I wonder?”

Holo took another swig of wine and belched.

She then pushed the wine cask into Lawrence’s still-outstretched hand.

“So, what did you discuss with that vixen?”

Evidently it was impossible to hide anything from Holo.

Lawrence grasped the cask and brought it to his own mouth, cursing his luck immediately thereafter.

Under his arm, Holo grinned.

The cask contained not wine, but goat’s milk with honey—probably for Col.

If she had gone to the trouble of laying such a careful trap, he probably could have just told her the truth without rousing her anger.

Lawrence slowly opened his mouth. “…Eve, who so thoroughly got the best of us before, is being treated like a mere child here.”

“Hmph.”

“The town’s powers that be are using her as a scapegoat. I had to tip my hat to her exploits in Lenos and on the Roam River, but here she’s just a whipping boy. And it’s just…”

Lawrence was worried he would be risking Holo’s ire if he continued, but if he started hiding his true feelings after having gotten this far, she would surely be angrier still.

He finished with a single word.

“…Sad.”

Holo said nothing and did not return his gaze.

The silence was awkward, so Lawrence kept going.

“Things happen even to a merchant like Eve. So what does that mean for me, over whom she triumphed so thoroughly? I can’t help but wonder. Don’t you want people who best you…to go on to further success?”

Lawrence knew that there was always a bigger fish, and he was too old to believe that he was somehow an exception to the ways of the world. He had not complained like this in many years.

However, that was not because he had somehow become stronger with age.

It was because he had learned the reality that, during the long, lonely journeys of a traveling merchant, there would be no one by his side to cheer him up when he indulged in worry and sadness.

But now—

Lawrence smiled wryly.

She might roll her eyes or show him contempt, but at least he could call it a reaction of some kind.

It was enough—enough for him to face what he had ignored for so long and to move forward.

“Listen here, you,” said Holo.

“Hmm?”

After a moment of silence, she looked up. “Listening to you talk made me mad enough for two.”

“…I see.”

“But now looking at your face, I’m thrice angry.”

“Well, you eat enough for five, so you’ve got two left to go,” joked Lawrence, and Holo elbowed him in the ribs and sat up.

“The first is that by your reasoning, I’m a pathetic fool for being your companion.”

That made sense, so Lawrence stayed silent.

“The second is because only a pup would despair at such a foolish notion.”

“I won’t argue.”

“And as for the last—” Holo knelt on the bed, her hands on her hips as she looked down at Lawrence.

She wore a displeased expression, but he wondered why it was that he detected a trace of foolishness there as well.

He soon realized that it was not his imagination.

“…To see you turn tail and behave in a manner so unbecoming a full-grown male, when on your face…”

“…My face?” Lawrence replied, which Holo nodded at after a short hesitation.

“You speak of such weakness, and yet”—Holo looked away—“your face says you could go off on your own at any moment.”

Lawrence knew he could not laugh.

But by the time the thought came to him, it was too late, and Holo—whose cheeks were flushed with something besides wine—bared her teeth, her ears standing up.

Lawrence calmed himself and replied, “But if I looked as though I couldn’t continue on alone, you’d rail at me without mercy, would you not?”

Holo looked displeased.

And yet, after growling bitterly for a while, she sat down with a nod.

Her tail wagged grandly to and fro, and she sighed in irritation. “Naturally, I would. I’d rail at you, toy with you, tease you, and when you still followed me, I’d be entirely delighted.”

“I’d…just as soon avoid that.”

“Fool,” Holo said.

Lawrence chose that moment to pull his hand back, and soft as a cotton ball, she fell toward him.

Of course, he knew what she was angry about.

In his arms, she pouted, sullen.

“Do you want me to say I was in the wrong?”

“You are ever in the wrong.”

“…”

Holo was Lawrence’s traveling companion, and Lawrence was Holo’s.

It was not one or the other—the ideal was for each of them to support the other.

Lawrence was not always the one making Holo angry, nor was Holo always the angry one.

Strange though it was to say, Lawrence needed to find the courage to be a weakling.

To admit that he needed her support.

Even if she cursed him for it.

“Still, don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Aye?” inquired Holo in his arms, not looking up.

“If that’s all true, why am I the one who ends up comforting you?”

Holo’s ears flicked up, tickling Lawrence’s cheek.

She looked up, a delighted malice in her eyes, and spoke. “Because ’tis my particular privilege, that is why.”

“Ugh…still, I suppose that’s how I like you, so it’s my own fault.”

“Heh,” Holo giggled, nestling in closer.

But Lawrence could guess where this was going.

“Hey, are you going to use Col to tease me…again…?” His words trailed off suddenly.

“When people are strong, they do not look back. And for long ages, I couldn’t look back. And I am tired of it.” Though she was crying, her words were not choked, and they came out easily.

Even when confessing her weakness, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu did so in grand form, Lawrence thought.

Regardless of the inappropriateness of the notion, he couldn’t help thinking it.

He respectfully stroked her small head.

“You know that I’m a coward, don’t you? I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, terrified. So don’t worry on that count,” said Lawrence, and Holo buried her face in his chest as if to wipe her tears, shaking her head.

“I hate it!”

He had to respect her, persisting in her selfishness even now.

Lawrence smiled sadly and scratched the base of Holo’s ears. “Whenever I decide something, I consult with you. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“Despite your offering to me, I hate that things are changed left and right without my thoughts being solicited.”

Perhaps she had chosen a familiar example purposely, but if that was the case, then it meant Lawrence’s feelings for Holo were essentially alms.

“So my feelings are an offering?”

“I should think one is necessary for prayer.”

Holo’s ears twitched, and Lawrence smiled.

“A prayer for what?” he asked.

“For the boy Col to come.”

It was frustrating, but he could hardly deny it.

Holo smiled and closed her eyes.

This had to be something very important to her for Holo to state her true feelings so plainly.

The most frustrating part of business was having something decided above one’s head.

During the long months and years Holo had spent as a village’s harvest god, that was how she had felt.

When the Moon-Hunting Bear came to her homelands, she had not even heard about it.

Though it concerned her, it was decided without her knowledge—the definition of isolation.

And she was tired of it.

This was probably something Lawrence needed to clearly understand, but if she waited for him to do so, there was no telling how long it would take.

He was sure that was the answer he would receive were he to ask.

“Still, ’tis quite a knack being able to pick the right time to lay a trap for you. ’Tis pleasant sometimes.”

Beside him, Holo smiled nastily. Simultaneously, her wolf ears turned toward the hall as if detecting prey.

The meaning was plain enough, but it seemed the wisewolf was not such a boring hunter as to lay the same trap twice.

“Don’t think you’ll always be able to trick me.”

Holo showed her fangs in a wordless smile, moving away from Lawrence to sit again upon the windowsill.

Though the sweet taste of honey lingered in Lawrence’s mouth, he could not restrain the bitter smile that rose at being so easily discarded.

However, if he were to look at the door from which there came a perfectly timed knock, he would easily fall into Holo’s trap.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

The door opened to reveal—of course—Col.

“Aye, and wait we did. Where’s the wine?”

“Er, it’s right—oh, there’s enough for you, too, Mr. Lawrence.”

“You hardly needed to buy so much! Ah, ’tis such a waste.”

Lawrence couldn’t help but smile at Holo and Col’s exchange.

Of course, the biggest reason for his smile was the realization that for someone who could change her expressions and moods so easily, laying a trap for the likes of the boy was child’s play.

It was truly terrifying.

So terrifying, in fact, that Lawrence chose a piece of salty, spicy jerky, and bit into it voraciously.

“So, is there anything we can use in all this talk you overheard?” Holo had no words of thanks for Col, despite having used him as her errand boy, and spoke to Lawrence instead.

Of course, there was also the fact that he was rather impressed.

Col had skillfully used his battered cloak as a bag, which he was able to sling over his shoulder. Holo may have maliciously ordered him to go buy large amounts of food and wine, but he had carried out the charge without difficulty.

Probably out of frustration, Holo did not deign to thank him for his efforts.

In any case, Col was such a talented lad that were he to become a merchant’s apprentice, a bidding war would no doubt ensue.

“Are you listening?” Holo asked of Lawrence, who was watching Col set the food and wine on the table with admirable efficiency.

“I’m listening.”

“I wonder.”

“It’s probably worth investigating. It seems the bigwigs of the north side borrowed the money to build the marketplace, and they’re keen to pay it off. And it’s gotten so bad that over at the Jean Company, where we were mistaken for powerful, crafty merchants, they’ve got a mule yawning in front of the eaves ready to go, and they’re not even gathering their chickens’ eggs.”

Holo chewed a cooked shellfish.

In her place, Col spoke up. “His profits are being snatched away?”

“Yes. The Jean Company deals exclusively with copper from the Roam River region, but the profits are being stolen away by the north-side bigwigs. Which means—”

Holo washed down the shellfish with a slug of wine, then burped. “—Which means ’tis no surprise he went so angrily in for all this talk of absurd profit.”

“Yes, well, that too. Also—” Lawrence brought a piece of fried, silver-scaled fish whose name he did not know to his mouth.

The last time he had given a trenni to Holo, she had spent the entire sum on apples.

She seemed as ignorant of the word restraint as ever.

“—Reynolds seemed slightly suspicious.”

“Mm. Well, he is surely hiding something.”

Col looked up at Lawrence’s and Holo’s faces in surprise. “Huh?”

“It’s not too hard to guess at what. If he were using the story of the wolf remains to hide something, then—?”

“Hiding his ears without hiding his tail, eh?” Holo analogized as she flicked both.

But their opponent was a merchant.

“There’s a saying—‘A fearsome hawk is one that hides its talons.’ I think what he was hiding was not his ears, but his horns.”

“Also, when you were parting, he gave you quite the fierce handshake, did he not?”

So she had been watching that.

Lawrence nodded, picking a fish scale out of his teeth. “When he told me to give his regards to Eve Bolan, he meant either her money, her business skill, or her connections.”

“That vixen just spent all her money on those furs. We might not know the state of her coin purse, aye, but surely there are other places from which he would borrow money,” said Holo, directing a teasing smile at Lawrence.

She was referring to Lawrence’s frantic attempts to borrow money when he himself had been on the verge of ruin.

“…Which leaves either her talent or her connections. Either way, aren’t the actors and the stage a little too perfectly matched?”

Holo gave only a thin smile and looked lazily outside.

Lawrence, for his part, ate steadily from the food on the table while Col, cask held between his hands, looked back and forth between his companions.

It was not as though they were quarreling.

Col was a bright lad.

While he didn’t usually think to doubt people, when that possibility was pointed out to him, he had a good enough head to think it through.

Essentially, from their individual impressions, Holo and Lawrence had each drawn their own sketches.

Col heard the fragments and wanted to know what sort of picture they added up to.

“E-excuse me!” Col raised his hand and stood.

No matter how strict and harsh the scholar, he surely could not fail to find this dedication charming.

It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if jealous classmates had been the ones to silence Col.

“Could…could Reynolds still be looking for the remains even now?”

Holo did not reply.

But having taken classes with strict, difficult professors, Col was undeterred. “If what Reynolds is hiding is the fact that he’s still searching for the remains, then he should have politely sent us on our way. So did he welcome us in because of Eve’s letter? If so, that would mean the reason he wanted your handshake when we were leaving was…”

Col thought.

He had no knowledge of how much talent as a merchant Eve possessed.

Which meant he would draw conclusions based on his various impressions.

How would this scene appear to Col’s eye?

“The reason is because he wants your help in searching for the wolf remains, isn’t it?”

This was just another question, and yet the impression it carried was very different.

Holo took a drink of wine from her cask and looked at Col.

Then, smiling faintly, she turned to Lawrence. “What of it?”

Lawrence waved her off as if to say, “Do you even need to ask?”

Regardless of whether or not it was the truth, it was an easy conclusion to make.

“Also, if we imagine that, then it’s obvious why Eve so readily drafted a letter for us. Since this is Eve we’re talking about, she would’ve known ahead of time that Reynolds wanted to cooperate with her in finding the remains. But since the story is what it is, she was careful, dodging our questions. Or she might not believe it to be true. Either way, Reynolds wants Eve’s help badly. What’s Eve thinking? She’s as cunning as a wolf, so at first she probably turned him down because of the absurdity of the story, but then we appeared, and she thought, What if? But it would be unwise for her to ask Reynolds directly. So what does she do? Suddenly, some people appear right before her eyes, begging to be used.”

“Aha,” pronounced Holo in a voice like an old woman’s, chuckling to herself.

If this interpretation was on point, it showed that Reynolds definitely thought Eve was evincing some interest in the remains.

That in turn explained the sudden change in Reynolds’s attitude when Col asked if he had found the remains.

Reynolds had been surprised and dismayed—either angry at what would have been a halfhearted attempt at reconnaissance or imagining that Lawrence and company were taking their orders from Eve and acting as scouts.

They had been treated to a meal not because they had been sent by Eve, but rather because Reynolds probably thought of them as simple sheep that Eve was carefully leading about.

The obvious thing for him to do, then, would not be to engage in a lot of roundabout conversation and try to merely insinuate his true intent, but rather treat them to an easily understood meal.

So the activities at the trading company could be dismantled.

Even the most sinewy old goat could be butchered as long as one knew where to stick the knife.

“So then, what shall we do?” asked Holo in a very matter-of-fact tone.

But Lawrence got the sense that her amber eyes were tinged redder than usual.

Her anger had surely returned the instant the notion that, despite deceiving them with its poor appearance, the Jean Company was still pursuing the wolf remains began to gather real weight.

And there was no doubt that Holo was thinking, This time for certain.

This time, for certain, she wanted to engage a vexing situation with her own fangs, claws, and brains. She would not let them get away with it.

This she was surely thinking.

And so she wanted her companion Lawrence’s answer.

“It’s obvious…” Lawrence was about to continue when he felt another gaze upon him.

Though he was keeping his mouth tightly shut, Col’s feelings seemed not terribly different from Holo’s.

“We’ll investigate. And if there’s nothing there, that’s fine.”

This was not one man’s merchant journey.

It was not even the journey of two.

It felt quite good to see everybody’s views in alignment and thereby decide on a course of action.

He could see why the nobility competed so as to lead their knight brigades into battle.

Though doing such things too often would be tiring.

Holo had once shouldered the responsibility for an entire town, and it had turned bitter.

In the end, she was never even thanked.

He realized this was the first time he had been in this position, and that when he had first met the crying, dejected Holo, he had barely managed to improvise any comfort for her at all.

And yet he quite thoroughly thought of himself as Holo’s guardian, which allowed Holo to easily trip him up.

Lawrence, who must have seemed barely older than Col to Holo, hid his smile from her.

He then took a deep breath and straightened his expression, speaking like a military commander. “Right, let me explain each of your roles.”

Col looked serious, and Holo feigned seriousness, as both of them turned their ears to Lawrence’s plan.