Spice and Wolf - Volume 9 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

“We must leave this place,” Lawrence said bluntly. “And quickly, too.”

He entered the room with long strides. On the table were the coins, the puzzle of which Col had solved, and Lawrence gathered them into his coin purse as though he were making a sandpile on a beach.

The travelers’ life was one of casting off needless things.

Everything they needed was already packed in a burlap bag in the room’s corner, and if flight was necessary, they could simply cinch the bag up, shoulder it, and run—it was far from rare to be attacked during the night, after all.

“Come, you.”

Lawrence looked up at the voice.

It was the surprised face of his traveling companion, Holo.

“What’s this, then?”

In her hand was a letter written on a single piece of parchment.

Inscribed on it was a statement in curt, undecorated letters, along with a bloodred wax seal in the bottom-right corner.

It was addressed to none other than Lawrence, and the sender was the Rowen Trade Guild. For a traveling merchant like Lawrence, whose livelihood was ever uncertain, the group of comrade merchants was most encouraging.

Its seal was a powerful shield in any town and could be a powerful weapon as well.

And the guild had sent Lawrence a letter at the inn where he stayed on the north side of Kerube.

“‘We seek now a brave merchant who fears neither witch nor alchemist. In consideration of both the wealth and progress of the guild, by all means, please…signed, Lud Kieman.’”

Holo read the letter’s contents aloud smoothly and then looked to Lawrence curiously.

Next to Holo, their other travel companion, Col, peered at the document in her hands.

The letter was from Lud Kieman, chief trader of the Kerube branch of the Rowen Trade Guild, and its meaning was clear—there was no doubt that he was trying to get Lawrence’s cooperation, just as Eve said he would.

He wanted to deliver the narwhal to Eve and to receive in return the titles for the land on the north side of the river, thereby transforming the balance of power in the town. The narwhal was a creature so valuable that it made such things possible.

But neither Kieman nor Eve could trust the other. Each of them was far too hypocritical to shake hands over a contract. They needed someone to act as a middleman, a go-between. And if possible, someone whom they could each easily control.

In the midst of heated competition over such vast profits, a merchant’s life was worth no more than a single grain of wheat.

Lawrence could hear the crunch, crunch of creaking bones.

Col and Holo’s lack of concern only further aggravated his nervousness. “Don’t you see? This is a summons from my guild,” he said by way of explanation, tying the burlap sack tightly closed.

“Your guild?” came Holo’s reply, which made Lawrence stand and shake his head.

“The name on the letter, there—that’s Lud Kieman, the manager of the local branch of my guild. Even if I don’t owe Kieman any favors directly, I owe my allegiance to the Rowen Trade Guild, whose delta house he manages. Do you understand what I’m saying? Kieman is using the reins of my obligation to the guild in order to put me in a terrible position!”

Traders as powerless as traveling merchants can safely move from town to town only because of their guild attachments. Because the guild works tirelessly to acquire various rights and privileges in each town, its merchants could visit those towns and conduct business without worry.

But being able to dine on the fruits plucked by the guild’s claws and teeth meant that when a merchant’s cooperation was asked, a member could not refuse it.

Because no matter how absurd the request, the many privileges the merchant had so far enjoyed came at the cost of the hard labor of his comrades.

Yet there was a limit to how obligated one could be.

Kieman was scheming in service of his own self-interest and trying to pull Lawrence into those machinations.

He would claim it was in the interests of the guild, and as long as his preparations were thorough, Lawrence would be unable to refuse lest he be branded a traitor by the guild. And there was another reason for Lawrence to be worried—the person with whom he’d only recently conversed in another building.

If Kieman was the head of a great giant composed of an army of merchants, then his enemy was a wolf of equally impressive stature.

And that wolf had unexpectedly asked Lawrence to betray the guild.

Of course, she was waiting with the promise of dizzying profit, and indeed her proposal to Lawrence was just one part of a larger stratagem she had already set in motion.

It was all but a forgone conclusion that a single traveling merchant would easily be swept away in this crimson maelstrom of money and chance.

Between the gears of power and influence, the blood of a single human was generally of no great value.

“We must leave the city. As soon as possible. Before we no longer can.”

There was still time.

Lawrence swallowed those words like a prayer. “Both of you, quickly,” he added.

“Would you not calm yourself?” came Holo’s cool words, pouring over the scalding fires in his mind.

Those words were like water spilling into boiling oil. Lawrence exploded in spite of himself. “I am quite calm!”

Col stood next to Holo, holding a small wine cask, and he recoiled almost audibly at the sound. Beside him, the white down on Holo’s ears stirred the merest fraction.

It was blazingly obvious which of the three was the least composed in the room.

“—…”

Lawrence put down his own load, looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

He remembered that once when he had been on the verge of bankruptcy and ruin, he had slapped Holo’s hand away in anger.

He asked himself if he had learned nothing since then.

Inwardly, he cursed himself.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with a pliant male who bends like a green twig, but such a man can hardly be relied upon. A fool is so much the better for his obviousness.”

Holo’s tail wagged as she stroked Col’s head; the boy watched the developments carefully.

“Though possessing two eyes, most creatures can see but a single thing at a time. Do you know why males and females go to such lengths to bond with each other?”

She took the wine cask from Col and pulled its cork free with her teeth. With a light gesture of her chin, she signaled for Col to take the cork from her.

Col did as he was instructed as if well acquainted with the process.

During that time, Holo’s eyes remained fixed on Lawrence. “I’m sure your common sense has led you to some sort of clear conclusion.”

Lawrence didn’t have to ask what Holo would have added to that statement.

The two of them, Holo and Col, sat side by side and regarded him. The pair looked somehow fragile in that moment, which made Lawrence feel like a villain.

“Hmph. From twixt stalks of wheat, I once often witnessed such ill manners in the village.”

Lawrence knew what Holo was trying to say.

Col seemed to catch up a bit later, and when he looked away uneasily, Holo elbowed him, as if to say, “Spit it out.”

“…My father…was often like this.”

Lawrence had no room to protest that none of this was his fault. “…I am sorry. Still—”

“Save your apologies. I want not answers. What I ask for is an explanation. We are not your followers. We’ve no obligation to do as you tell us. Do I not speak the truth?”

She admonished him without anger, and her statement was effective because it was correct.

The two were not the innocent, helpless people they appeared to be.

They were each independent beings, perfectly capable of conceiving and carrying out their own plans.

To arbitrarily decide what to do right in front of them was itself a sort of betrayal.

“So then, what happened?” asked Holo, wearing a trace of a smile.

Despite having castigated him for his narrow vision, she seemed to acknowledge that he must have his reasons.

And stubbornness was not a merchant’s way.

Lawrence shook his head—not to deny her words, but rather to clear his own mind.

He recalled the exchange in which he had engaged earlier.

“Eve invited me to act as her spy.”

“Oh ho,” said Holo briefly, putting the wine to her lips. She meant for him to continue.

“And the sender of that letter, Kieman, wants me to act as his spy as well.”

“So you’re trapped, then.”

Lawrence nodded and continued on to the subject that was the root of the trouble.

“The reason for all of this is because the south side has captured a fishing boat from the north. That’s all it will take to spark the conflict between the poor north and the wealthy southern sides. The southerners resorted to this because they wanted the valuable catch of the northerner’s boat. Eve has been charged with returning the prize to the north, but the one who gave her the order is not doing so out of loyalty to the north, but rather for his own profit. And Eve is merely pretending to go along with this; she plans to betray the north and has asked me to help.”

The matter wouldn’t be settled with mere hundreds of lumione.

And yet she was perfectly willing to conduct this deal, the value of which extended into thousands of gold coins.

“Quite a female,” declared Holo with an irritated smirk. Col seemed to be afraid of making a conversational misstep, so he stared off into space.

“But since Eve declared her intention to betray the north, it’s likely she’s willing to betray anyone, is it not?”

Theoretically, two negatives equaled a positive, and the enemy of one’s enemy was an ally. But only Eve knew whether her betrayal upon betrayal would work to her profit in the end.

“’Tis a bog of doubt, then, aye. When even your own pack is trying to use you to their own ends, I suppose ’tis no surprise your face is white with worry.”

Holo took a swig from the wine cask and burped.

That she could say such things and drink wine as she did so was infuriating, but Lawrence only painted on a pained smile.

Besides, as the saying went, knights who survived the battlefield were ever smiling, and merchants were no different.

“Is there any solution that satisfies all parties?”

“Since Eve isn’t truly working for the north, it shouldn’t matter to her where her profit comes from. Which means she shouldn’t mind receiving her share from the Rowen Trade Guild. It’s possible that both Eve and the guild could profit. So as long as she doesn’t decide to betray both me and the guild in order to take everything for herself, that could work.”

“Hmm.”

“Alternatively, I could act in favor of the guild’s profit and try to exclude Eve entirely.”

“Mmm…So we must either throw ourselves on the mercy of a villain or be blindly optimistic, eh?”

Otherwise, Lawrence would not be in this position—such was the logical conclusion.

Lawrence nodded and put his hands on the table.

“But this is all guesswork based on what I’ve been able to learn. In such a vast operation, there is too much I don’t know. If I get involved, I can’t help but be a pawn for those above me.”

If Lawrence could plumb the depths of these schemes, he could turn them to his profit. But to do that, he had to understand exactly where those depths lay.

“So you’re left with discretion being the better part of valor, eh?” said Holo.

“Yes,” agreed Lawrence, taking the letter from Holo’s hands.

As a lonely wandering merchant, how many times had the seal on that letter come to his aid? It was a magical emblem, both a powerful weapon and a sturdy shield.

He’d never doubted its might.

Which was why—now that its power was turned against him—he could see no alternative but escape.

“So that vixen and your pack are fighting over the same prize, then? What might that be?”

“Huh? Oh yes. It’s what you say you saw on the south side.”

“Surely not the bones?”

Lawrence and his party had come to the seaside town of Kerube, far from Holo’s homelands of Yoitsu, in search of a certain item—the bones of what was said to be a wolf-god worshipped in the mountains of Roef.

Holo had discovered the possibility that the bones would be used in an unforgivable manner by the Church, while Col wanted to learn the truth of his homeland’s god.

Holo’s tone was thus amused when she asked the question, but her eyes were not smiling.

The object in question was not so very far from the wolf bones as goods went, which was why the powers that be were in such a frenzy to acquire it.

“Something similar. A beast from the northern seas—a magical creature with a single horn. Eating its flesh grants long life, and a tincture of its horn cures disease. It’s called a narwhal. Evidently one of the north side’s fishing boats hauled one up in its nets.”

Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak as though his words were a pleasant side dish to go with her wine, but suddenly her ear twitched.

“What’s wrong?”

“…’Tis nothing.”

The lie was so obvious it wasn’t even worth laughing at.

“Still—”

“Yes?”

“You’re certain that all this talk centers around that, aye?”

“Yes.”

“In which case, you yet have choices you can make. Isn’t that so?” Holo, amused, directed this last question to Col.

While Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak, Col watched the pair’s exchange from the outside.

He was the obvious person to identify a third option.

“Er, ah, um…”

“Come now, be bold!”

Holo slapped his back, and Col finally summoned the courage to speak.

“E-er, couldn’t Miss Holo simply…go and take the narwhal…?”

“…Huh?” was all Lawrence could manage in the face of Col’s words.

The thought simply hadn’t occurred to him.

“If there’s a fight over some object, then the conflict hinges on the item itself. I’m sure Miss Holo can traverse the river in a single bound, so she should be able to steal it easily.”

Col was, after all, from the deep mountains.

He spoke these flattering words with total sincerity, and Holo’s ears twitched happily.

It was probably true that stealing the narwhal was in and of itself not a difficult thing for Holo.

No matter how well guarded it might be, in the face of the fangs of Holo’s true form, the guards’ armor would scarcely be more than the paper armor in which children clad themselves for playacting. Despite all the plotting and planning of Eve, Kieman, and the other monstrous powers at play, it would be no great trouble for her to take the thing and run.

Lawrence scratched his head and spoke. “Look here, even if we do that, the question becomes what to do next. Even if the theft were simple, you would certainly be witnessed. At which point, the idea that anyone would then buy the narwhal from us is completely absurd. That much is—”

“I’m well aware of that. But”—Holo interrupted, her eyes narrowing with her smile and her head cocking to one side—“you must have seen how simple this all truly is. Have you not?”

“…Huh?”

“You haven’t, then? The matter that has you so terrified you can think only of escape, I will tear open with my fangs and claws. To have my companion in such a dither over this is quite a problem. So much more the fool me for choosing you as such, I suppose.”

“…”

Lawrence looked back at Holo; he was at a loss for words.

He had to admit she was right.

When it came to deception in the service of profit, Holo was capable of brazen cunning that would cause even the most jaded town merchant to grow dizzy.

Suddenly the things Lawrence had been so afraid of seemed very small. He could feel the blood flowing back into his once pale face and was unable to stop the reddening.

“Heh-heh-heh. You see, Col, my boy? This is what comes of letting a tempest in a teacup get the better of one.”

Col, of course, looked abashed out of consideration for Lawrence, who would have preferred the boy to simply laugh at him.

Col regarded Lawrence with an almost girlish gaze on his upturned face, which Lawrence smiled at nervously. The boy returned the smile in evident relief.

The blood drained back out of his face, and Lawrence’s cramped field of view seemed to expand.

“Always have your weapons at the ready,” his master had once told him.

And next to him stood Holo, the Wisewolf of the forest of Yoitsu. There was a certain august dignity to her tail-swishing, wine-swilling form.

“Also, if you escape this current predicament, will it not be easier to find out more about the bones?”

“…Eve knows that, too. She told me that if I would cooperate with her, she would hand over what she knows about the bones. In other words, she’s saying she wouldn’t mind finding out what Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company supposedly knows.”

Holo raised a single eyebrow, though whether the expression was one of anger or amusement was unclear. “Hmph. The vixen is cooler headed than you are. Listen here—is our search for the bones so very different from the trouble you seem to have found yourself mixed up in now?”

Lawrence found himself speechless at the analogy.

Holo, of course, did not hold back. “When we began our pursuit of the bones, you warned me of this. But now you flinch away at the prospect of a similar challenge? At this rate…” The force drained from her angry face, and she looked away. “…I will begin to doubt your words.”

These last words were spoken sadly, and she glanced up at the merchant briefly.

Lawrence knew he was being provoked. But it was only Holo’s way of trying to motivate him.

“Did you not tell me you were that rare male good for more than talk?” she now inquired teasingly, her head tilted.

She beamed at Lawrence’s sour face.

Pointless inflexibility was of no use in business, but that didn’t mean he could always be perfectly rational.

Lawrence grumbled, his gaze downcast. “I suppose we can take escape out of the discussion.”

“Aye. So now you can relax those shoulders of yours.”

“Because you’ll be here should the worst happen?”

If that was what it took to discover the truth behind the wolf bones, Holo would unsheathe her teeth and claws without a thought. But that was far from an ideal solution as far as Lawrence was concerned.

In response to his question, Holo shook her head and replied with a calm smile. “No, because you’ve no need to worry over who to sell this sea beast to once it’s between my jaws. Just as the boy Col said, if the pups begin fighting over it, I should think the easiest solution would be for me to simply eat it.”

“…I suppose it’s not surprising I didn’t think of that myself.”

“That merely proves how little you were considering me,” Holo replied. Standing between them, Col’s gaze flicked back and forth from one to the other.

“Obviously,” Lawrence shot back, which made Col look suddenly a bit worried.

Lawrence had to admit that from the outside, it must have appeared as though they were bickering. But Col soon seemed to understand otherwise. In contrast to her expression, Holo’s tail was wagging.

“Hmph. You say such things, and yet how many times have you needed my aid? There’s no great difference between the third and fourth time.”

As much as he could, Lawrence wanted to avoid relying on Holo. Yet in spite of what he might say, she had delivered him from danger many times.

So while it might have seemed as though consequences were the only thing that mattered, lately Lawrence had began to suspect otherwise.

Which was why even as he admitted his reliance on her power, Lawrence faced those ears that could detect any lie and spoke.

“You are indeed the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, but that’s not why I chose you as my traveling companion.”

Holo ducked her head and giggled.

Col pretended not to be seriously attentive, but in front of him, Lawrence could say no more. It was doubtful if he would have been able to say more even if he had been alone with Holo.

“So you’ll show me such cleverness as to impress even a wisewolf, then?”

“Of course,” responded Lawrence shortly. “Of course.”

Had he been alone, he would have fled—or let himself be used.

But there was a reason why a smile crept into a corner of Lawrence’s mouth.

Truly? Was it truly wise to stand and face this mad situation?

He could not help but inwardly put the question to himself.

The inn at which the three were staying was one to which Eve had originally introduced them, and Kieman now knew its whereabouts as well. Thus, having decided not to flee the city, the only thing Lawrence could do was wait to be contacted.

If he were noticed attempting to collect information on his own, either by Kieman or Eve, it would not leave a very favorable impression.

Given that Lawrence’s opponents held the advantage in both information and power, the only strategy available to him was to watch their movements and try to outwit them after the fact.

Intellectually, he was well aware of this, so he also knew that Holo’s tactic of dozing on the bed with her tail flicking lazily to and fro was much better than his own, which involved sitting on a chair as his leg bounced restlessly.

Nevertheless, he sat on that chair by the window and gazed outside, unable to calm himself.

In this season, the cloudy skies darkened even the brightest of moods—all the more so when one was already gloomy.

Lawrence knew full well how small he was in the face of the schemes and greed of Eve and of Kieman. All he could do was sigh.

Holo had compelled him to stay in town rather than run, but having made the decision, he felt no better about it.

This was no one-on-one negotiation between merchants; this was a battle of many against many.

Never get involved with a business you don’t understand, his master had taught him, and yet here Lawrence was, breaking that very rule. He sighed again and surveyed their room in the inn.

There on the bed, Holo lay sleeping, having lost her battle with the demon slumber.

Col sat on the floor beside the bed, attending to his belt after having removed it from his waist. A short while earlier, he had borrowed a needle from the innkeeper, and Lawrence had assumed he intended to repair his belt, but it seemed the opposite was true.

Col pulled threads from his belt and tied them together to form a single long thread. He then threaded the needle with the result. Finally, he removed his shabby, beat-up coat, whereupon Lawrence finally understood his aim.

Lawrence stood and walked over to him. “If you’re going to resort to that, soon you won’t have any belt left at all.”

Col had begun stitching away with the improvised thread, the needle moving adroitly through the fabric. The boy was practiced at this.

At Lawrence’s words, Col looked up with an abashed smile but without ceasing his repairs.

The thread was quite short, so the mending was quickly finished.

From the perspective of a merchant who made his living by judging the quality of goods, such mending amounted to little more than a prayer to God.

“I’ll buy you some thread, at the very least.”

“Huh? No…I’m quite all right. See?” Col bit off the end of the thread and then held the coat up proudly.

Had Holo been watching, she probably would have smacked his head lightly and wagged her tail.

But Lawrence was not Holo, and so he simply put his hand on the boy’s head. “I have yet to pay you back for explaining the mystery of the copper coins to me. Church scholars are paid for their lectures, are they not?”

Col seemed to want to reply, but appearing to weigh Lawrence’s goodwill against his own modesty, he must have concluded that accepting the goodwill was the better choice.

He smiled sheepishly. “Would it really be all right?”

“Naturally. Shall we find a tailor and buy some thread? Wouldn’t it be better to be able to do your mending sooner rather than later?”

Lawrence imagined that the money the thread would cost could probably purchase a better coat than the one currently in Col’s possession, but he didn’t say so.

The boy had summoned the courage to leave his village. Was the coat he had been given to mark the occasion truly worth so little?

It would hardly feel good to be told that the item that held so many memories was worth less than the thread it took to repair it.

“Well, then, thank you!” said Col happily, hurrying to shrug the coat back over his shoulders.

Lawrence thought to invite Holo along as well, but with her having just fallen asleep, even pinching her nose closed would not wake her, so he and Col left as a pair. Besides, if Kieman or Eve came calling, it would be better if there was someone in the room.

“So, which thread would you like?”

Having asked the innkeeper where to find a tailor, the two found the place with no trouble.

It seemed that only certain parts of the town had been thrown into chaos by the narwhal.

Power was power because it could not be shared; most people were not concerned about large-scale land ownership or town-wide reputation—such matters were as far above their heads as the moon.

Before meeting Holo, Lawrence himself had been one such moon gazer. Despite all the adventures he had been through with Holo, this quiet life was where he felt most at home.

The tailor shop at which they arrived had shutters open to a makeshift table upon which were arranged clothes, as well as thread and scrap cloth for patching.

The bored-looking boy minding the shop held his chin in hands that were dyed a dark color, probably owing to the fabric dyes he worked with.

He straightened and smiled as soon as he noticed Lawrence and Col, and seeing this, Lawrence returned the smile.

This world felt very familiar.

“So, the price varies with the color, but what do you think you’d like?” asked Lawrence.

“Hmm…since this is my coat’s color, I suppose…”

The shopkeeper spoke up as Col looked down at his coat. “A nice pale yellow shouldn’t stand out.”

Yellow-dyed goods were a luxury item, and the side of the shop boy’s smile made it clear just how true that was.

The boy seemed to be a year or two younger than Col but was probably a far tougher negotiator. Craftsmen’s apprentices were often beaten and kicked. They were toughened up in a way Col had not been.

“Er, but can’t yellow be quite…” Col seemed to understand that dye color affected price and hastily met Lawrence’s gaze, but of course, the shop boy would hardly admit that openly.

“Ah, you must be the master of a great shop somewhere!” he said, brushing aside Col’s words and leaning over the table. No doubt his own pay was based on the value of the goods he sold.

“It’s a shame we didn’t wear our finest out today,” said Lawrence in response to the boy’s merchant spirit.

The boy straightened his collar and puffed out his chest, leaving Col still silent. “Yes, yes, I quite take your meaning! Please do have a look at this here,” said the boy, producing a sample of thread.

The thread in the boy’s hand was no longer than his palm, but if it happened to blow away in the breeze, he would probably lose three days’ rations to make up for it.

The yellow dye came from across the seven seas, from a flower called saffron whose blossoms flowed down the river that led to an earthly paradise. Its rich golden hue called to mind gold itself.

Dye of any kind was an expense, and the sole purpose of fine clothing was to flatter the wearer’s pride. Since the wealthy bought such products without a thought, the price rose and rose.

In any case, Col seemed to have deduced where the conversation was heading and grabbed Lawrence’s sleeve hastily.

“M-Mr. Lawrence—”

“Hmm?” Lawrence smiled and turned back as the young apprentice raised his voice in an effort to hold on to his customer.

“Good sir! Good sir, look, take a good look at this fine golden color! So pure a gold that even gold itself looks shabby beside it! This is my master’s finest product. What say you, hmm?”

Lawrence nodded dutifully at the young salesman’s urging.

Behind the boy, farther inside the shop, a man who was presumably the shop’s master paused in his work to watch.

He seemed to be evaluating the boy’s technique more than he was watching to see whether the thread sold or not.

Lawrence looked at the master, who seemed to notice him, and the two men shared a glance. The man gave a voiceless smile and raised his hand in greeting.

Lawrence replied with a nod and then turned his attention back to the boy. “It is indeed a fine gold. Bright as any metal.”

“Is it not? So, if you please—”

“Still, wouldn’t such fine thread be wasted on such a coat? If it’s so bright as to cause even true gold to fade by comparison, won’t it cause the seams to stand out?

In that instant, the boy’s desperate business smile froze.

Behind the boy, Lawrence heard the master sigh helplessly.

“To make sure the seams aren’t too visible, we’ll take your cheapest gray thread.”

Perhaps visions of the commission he had hoped to make from selling the golden thread had been dancing in his head, for the boy was at a loss for a reply. Behind him, the master stood and approached. “What length will you be needing?”

The man knocked the boy on the head with a rough hand worthy of a craftsman.

If he could not stand up to a clever merchant, he would never be able to sell his wares for a good price, no matter how skillfully they were made. The master seemed to be trying to teach his apprentice this lesson.

“How much could I get for three silver lute?”

“Indeed…in that frayed state, maybe enough to do five seams like it? And while you’re at it, how about taking some of this blue thread off my hands? The dye’s been coming off the boats like mad these days, so there’s quite a lot.”

“You should buy it while it’s cheap, then, and sell it when the price rises.”

The man smiled as though knowing it had been futile from the beginning. “Three lute worth, then,” he said, taking down a spool of the gray thread.

Their shopping concluded, Lawrence and Col returned to the inn. They walked alongside the river and gazed at the town, Col following two steps behind Lawrence, holding the little sack that contained the thread and looking rather tired.

“What’s wrong?” Lawrence asked, which made Col look away like a scolded puppy.

He was smart enough to know he had been made sport of, perhaps. But it seemed to have affected him more than Lawrence would have anticipated.

“Are you so very surprised?”

“…N-no, it’s just…”

Col’s eyes glanced this way and that.

Lawrence wondered if he had become too accustomed to traveling with a certain maliciously witty wolf.

“Holo’s teasing is far worse than mine,” said Lawrence, feeling a bit defensive.

This seemed to call something to Col’s mind, and he nodded, embarrassed. “True,” he admitted.

“And I seem to recall her telling you to be more shameless. I’m no god, just a merchant, so I don’t show mercy unless begged.”

Lawrence had not paid Col back for the salve, to say nothing for his solution to the coin puzzle. He wanted to reward the lad, but most merchants would have said nothing. Hardly any would remind a seller he had forgotten to demand payment. Lawrence agonized over which kind he was but finally decided in favor of honesty.

“Of course, if you were actually the sort of person who acted shamelessly when told to, I suppose I wouldn’t be traveling with you.”

Instead of being embarrassed, Col smiled.

Lawrence could see why Holo liked him so much.

“Still, I may not be a god, but I don’t mind being prayed to once in a while.”

“Huh?”

“If I truly hated being asked for this or that, I wouldn’t be traveling with certain fanged somebody.”

At these words, Col grinned and tightened his grip on the burlap bag.

“But you’re a future clergyman, so if you’re not going to pray to me, at least let me give my confession.”

“Eh…you mean…?”

“I confess that my behavior during the prior exchange was not exactly commendable,” said Lawrence, looking away from Col.

Col was silent for only a moment, then soon caught on and straightened up, his expression turning serious, as one would expect from a priest. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean exactly that. I was taking my frustration out on you.”

“Taking your frustration out?”

Col had a bad habit of becoming distracted by his own thoughts. As soon as he replied to Lawrence, he looked up, stumbled, and fell.

“You saw how troubled I was back at the inn, didn’t you?” Lawrence couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the boy during his own confession, so he merely held out a hand. When one stumbled, royalty blamed, nobility coughed, and commoners pretended to have done it on purpose.

But Col did none of those things.

He was going to become a fine clergy member.

“I did.”

But at this answer, Lawrence could not help uttering a pained chuckle. Col hastily tried to take it back, but Lawrence waved him off. “No, no, it’s fine. You may be my apprentice, but I can’t very well strike your face just to save mine.”

Looking a bit confused, Col smiled and then rubbed his own cheek.

“But after acting so pathetically, I wanted to get some of my pride back, you see.”

“…So was that why you shared that look with the master in the shop, then?”

The boy had keen eyes indeed.

“That’s right. I went over your head just to tease you. I just wanted to make you worry that I was going to buy you the most expensive thread…and feel a bit superior myself. Rather childish of me, I guess.”

Lawrence scratched his neck as he looked out over the river.

Some merchants stood near a boat as it was being unloaded. He could hear their voices on the wind. They were trying to talk themselves on board so they could cross to the southern side.

But the town regulated river crossings during times of crisis. Crossing the river was an important connection indeed for the town’s landowners. Lawrence doubted the boatman would risk taking the merchants across for a piddling bribe, which the merchants themselves surely knew. Yet they were still trying to cross, which went to show how significant the events currently playing out were.

Given all that, Kieman had still somehow managed to have his letter delivered to Lawrence, which yet again proved just how powerful he was.

“Your confession has been heard. God has surely forgiven you.” Not only had Col heard him out, but also he had added the priest’s standard phrase after doing so.

“Thank you,” said Lawrence, trying to sound as grateful as he could.

“Still, Mr. Lawrence—”

“Hmm?”

“You had another reason for doing that, didn’t you?”

Col looked straight at Lawrence. His gaze held not a trace of malice, which made Lawrence feel all the more impaled by it.

“You were trying to meet Miss Holo’s expectations, weren’t you?”

The boy’s eyes shone as if he were a child listening to a heroic tale, so brightly that they were almost painful to regard.

Lawrence could not help but turn away from him out of shame. “I can’t say that…wasn’t part of it, too,” he finally managed to answer.

Confirming his own negotiation ability was the source of his unease.

“I know I can’t do very much to help you, Mr. Lawrence, but please keep at it!”

“R-right.”

It seemed like Col was putting every ounce of his slim frame’s strength into supporting Lawrence. Lawrence was sure that if he had been in the boy’s position and seen someone older than him act in such a shameful manner, his esteem for his elder would have fallen.

The only reason he thought to buy the thread for Col and toyed with the shop boy was in service of his own sense of superiority.

Not only did Col not mind, he was actually cheering Lawrence on. Part of that could be ascribed to Col’s personality, but mysteries yet remained.

And a merchant’s curiosity ran deeper than any cat’s.

“And despite my looking so pathetic—a sad little merchant taking his frustrations out on those beneath him—you still hold me in some esteem? You’re a strange lad, that’s certain,” said Lawrence, and unsurprisingly, Col was taken aback.

He had not intended to flatter Lawrence; he had simply been speaking his mind. “Huh…? But…I mean…you’re traveling with Miss Holo, aren’t you? She told me you were looking for her homelands.”

“True, but…?”

“So doesn’t that mean that the problem we’re facing now is large enough to justify your concern?”

Lawrence did not understand what Col was getting at. It was true that the obstacle before them was beyond what a traveling merchant could handle, and even with Holo’s support he felt far from confident.

But he got the feeling that Col’s words referred to something else.

Did he mean that simply being able to travel with Holo implied that Lawrence was formidable in his own right, and therefore any problem that worried him this much had to be a serious matter?

Or was it something else?

Lawrence mulled it over and then realized something.

Col continued speaking. “I mean, this journey is the continuation of Holo’s legend, isn’t it? So the problems you face have to be worthy of such a tale! I’m truly grateful to be able to be part of the story,” he said, revealing an innocent smile.

Tales of adventure were passed down from traveler to traveler along the road, in every inn and town. But it had been more than ten years since Lawrence had last longed to one day be involved in such a tale himself.

Even Col, who was so clever and logical he could leave any merchant in his wake felt the same way.

Surely there was not another boy so guilelessly charming as this one.

“It’s true; she does say she’ll speak of this journey grandly in legends to come. But that’s all the more reason I need to behave properly for you.”

Lawrence meant it as a joke, and Col’s eyes went wide as he smiled. “I don’t want to be thought of as a burden when our tale is told!”

It was a reply to a joke that could never have been made in front of Holo.

Lawrence shook his head lightly, sighing and looking up. “Well, in any case, there’s one thing we must be very careful of indeed. We must cooperate to make absolutely certain we never anger her.”

Col was clever enough not to take his words for their surface meaning. He seemed happy, which meant he must have understood what Lawrence was trying to say.

“Sometimes I act shamefully, as I did earlier. I need someone’s help to stop me from doing it.”

“I understand!” replied Col. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

Lawrence was up against opponents who were well used to fighting battles on multiple fronts. He needed every ally he could get.

What was it that Holo had said to him? Her admonishment that he should get used to using people could have meant that he would have to start trusting them. In this battle of many versus many, such advice would surely be all the more important.

Lawrence shook hands with Col, his mood much improved. When it came to reaffirming his faith in his negotiation skills, that handshake was hundreds of times more effective than the pathetic banter with the tailor’s shop boy.

Holo was probably snickering back on the bed even then.

“Well, shall we return?” asked Lawrence, turning back toward the inn.

“Yes!” Col followed diagonally behind Lawrence.

The cloudy, unpleasant weather suddenly did not seem so very bad.