Spice and Wolf - Volume 9 - Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

“I vow not to cause any inconveniences.”

They were led to a five-story inn not far from the Rowen Trade Guild. Its entrance and interior were both very familiar looking, so it was probably commonly used by members of the guild. Lawrence and company were shown to a room on the third floor, which faced the inn’s courtyard.

There were no complaints about the room, and compared to the inn on the north side that Eve had recommended, the atmosphere of the place—where they would evidently be allowed to stay free of charge—was far better.

But Kieman’s words could not be taken at face value.

He probably meant that he would not keep them under surveillance in a way that would cause them inconvenience.

“Should you need anything, please tell the innkeeper. And if you would be so kind as to inform us of your destination should you leave the inn, you’ll avoid any unfortunate encounters.”

Lawrence had expected not to be allowed to leave at all, so these words came as a surprise.

Of course, the reverse side of such graciousness was that they were obviously confident they would be able to follow him no matter whom he tried to meet with.

And that confidence was probably justified.

Lawrence hid such thoughts behind his merchant’s mask and answered with a simple “Understood.”

“Well, then, please be at ease and enjoy your stay,” said Kieman with a smile; then he turned before anyone could reply and closed the door behind him.

Lawrence, taken aback, stared at the door for a few moments.

He had assumed that Kieman would explain what role he expected Lawrence to play in his view and Eve’s, but instead the issue had been completely evaded.

“…What was that all about?” Lawrence scratched his head and sighed and then noticed that Holo was rolling happily around on the bed. Meanwhile, Col had his hand on that same bed and a look of surprise on his face.

“What are you doing?” Lawrence asked, and Col turned to him, eyes shining.

“Cotton! It’s filled with cotton!”

“Cotton?”

“Come, lie upon it yourself! ’Tis soft, like a cloud.”

If the beds used cotton, then the room would have cost quite a bit if Lawrence had been paying for it himself.

Given Kieman’s enthusiasm and the basic principles of return on investment, it meant that he expected to use Lawrence in a way that would earn him more than this room was costing.

The size of this exchange was becoming more and more concrete.

Now that it had been pointed out, Lawrence noticed that the room itself was quite fine. He approached the window and saw that its joints were very tight so as to block drafts. When he opened it, he could look down onto a lovely courtyard where many flowers bloomed despite the season.

“…”

Given all this, the food served at this inn would likely be quite luxurious as well.

Lawrence was not unfamiliar with such methods. If one compensated someone only as well as his station demanded, he would do only what was expected of them. But if he were showered with overwhelming generosity, his embarrassment would make him easy to control, and this would force him to put forward extraordinary effort.

The fear that Lawrence had bottled up began to creep back into his view.

At the very least, should he have asked Kieman for an explanation?

He mulled it over as he turned his gaze back into the room from the courtyard, when—

“Fool,” said Holo, startling Lawrence so thoroughly he nearly fell out of the window.

“Wh-what—”

“That’s what I should be asking you! What are you doing with that serious expression of yours? You’re staying here in a room far beyond your purse’s means to let, yet you cannot enjoy it?” demanded Holo, sounding annoyed.

Behind her, Col looked on nervously as he sat on the cotton-stuffed bed.

“Well, I…”

Lawrence stumbled over his words, and Holo stabbed her index finger at his chest, continuing to talk.

“You truly are a weakling when it comes to such things. Why do you think that nasty little whelp left you here without explaining anything? There won’t be anything like last night’s eavesdropper, either. Our whelp is a bit more interesting than that.”

Holo turned to the door, continuing to show her fangs.

“If the explanation you gave me is correct, he’s still mistrustful of you. And ’tis a fact you’ve a connection to that vixen. So what does it mean that he’s brought you to his territory and is trying to make you one of his pawns? Naturally, he must make sure you haven’t any strings attached.”

It all made perfect sense, but none of it explained why there had been no explanation of any sort. “Is it just that he didn’t explain anything because he can’t trust me?” Lawrence asked, which made Holo smile an unfriendly smile.

That was not the answer.

His punishment was having his beard yanked.

“At the very least, you’ve been brought to the territory of one you cannot be sure is friend or foe, and you have been left to your own devices—so what would you normally do? Aren’t you in the habit of gathering information when you arrive in a new town?”

Still behind Holo, Col listened to her lecture, fascinated.

That had to be why she was doing this—if he did not want to be humiliated in front of Col, he was going to have to think hard and fast.

He did.

But nothing was coming to mind.

As he stammered, the wisewolf released his beard and crossed her arms, continuing on.

“On that count, humans and wolves are no different. You seek the counsel of those you know or those you trust. In other words, you navigate unfamiliar territory using the map within your mind. The minds of humans and beasts cannot be seen, but when they move, those movements make it quite clear what sort of map they possess. Just like my ears and tail or your beard.”

The beard part was a joke, but he could not help stroking it in thought.

“So in essence—” Holo said.

If he could not come up with an answer here, he was quite sure that Holo would take Col in hand and head straight for Yoitsu.

In the hairsbreadth gap Holo had left after her words, Lawrence slid in and took the opportunity. “He’s trying to see what I’ll do when put in an uncertain situation.”

“…”

Holo fell silent for a moment, perhaps having swallowed her rebuke at his slowness to answer. “Quite…Honestly, the only reason to put us all up in such a fine room is—”

“—To make us sweat.”

Holo’s shoulders slackened, and she flicked her ears and looked over her shoulder.

Col, every bit the serious student, gave a slow, wide-eyed nod.

“So, what then shall we do?”

Col was momentarily stunned into silence by the sudden question.

He immediately and furiously started thinking of how to answer, while Holo’s wagging tale made it clear she expected Lawrence to speak up.

It was like tossing a bone in front of a dog.

Even though he knew he was being baited, he could not help it.

She had two males in the palm of her hand and was making them vie with each other for the sheer fun of it.

“We should act as usual and enjoy the fine treatment.” Lawrence’s words were just an instant quicker—although worryingly, Col had opened his mouth and appeared nearly ready to answer himself.

Holo looked at Col for a moment, then slowly turned back to regard Lawrence, a smile dancing about the corners of her mouth as if to say, “Not bad.”

“If we truly mean to support Kieman through and through, then this isn’t enemy territory—it’s our home base, and there’s nothing to fear,” he continued. Holo nodded with satisfaction, her ears flicking, as though she had found the treasure for which she had been searching.

Lawrence looked past Holo to Col and asked, “Was that what you were going to say?” which made the boy smile, nodding with only a touch of sheepishness.

“Also, what would you do if the person on whom you’d lain an important duty seemed about to fall under the weight? Could you calmly continue to let them labor, eh?” Holo prodded.

Thus far, Lawrence had always bought and sold on his own, bearing every risk and worry himself, so the matter had never really occurred to him. The very notion of using someone else was so far from his mind that such thoughts were immediately abandoned.

As long as it was within his reach, Lawrence was more or less confident in his ability to fight. But there were those in the world who used spears longer than their arms—to say nothing of bows and arrows. And battles were won by generals who never even had to lay hands upon a sword.

Holo had long been such a leader.

“When I did such things myself, I nary used such roundabout, bothersome methods.” She grinned, flashing her pure white fangs. “I am Holo. Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu!” she said, hands on her hips, chest flung proudly out.

It had been some time since she had bragged like this, but to be boastful and proud was indeed very Holo-like. And given the admiration with which Col was gazing at her, it was surely just what was called for—since if she were too wise a wolf, she would not be able to indulge in this childish boasting.

“Now then. What do you suggest we do?”

Here was Holo’s true aim.

Lawrence found the words drawn out of him. “We go out and enjoy ourselves.”

“Mm. As grandly as we may, too.” Holo glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, as if making sure he understood the meaning behind her words.

It was perhaps a bit pathological of Lawrence to then decide to pretend not to notice this. “In that case, let’s go see the narwhal at the church, shall we?”

He spoke in a jesting fashion as if to emphasize that it was his proposal.

Col looked a bit taken aback, though Holo’s surprise was feigned.

She truly was a genius at turning circumstances to her own advantage.

“After all, there was quite a crowd on the way over here. If we ask, I’ll bet we’ll be allowed to see it.”

Lawrence doubted that going to see the narwhal would be seen as a sign of betrayal, regardless of his connection to Eve. If he were truly thinking of betraying Kieman, then there would be no reason to take actions that would attract the guild’s attention.

Of course, this was all hypothetical—it was possible to imagine any number of layers of hidden motivations.

“What do you say? Wouldn’t it be boring to just go out for food and drink?”

Holo was a proud wisewolf, and Lawrence’s proposal was meant to be worthy of her position; yet its form still contained a certain childish innocence—two opposing aspects.

As a wisewolf, Holo had the confidence to stand before the narwhal. Yet like a child, she was surely interested in just seeing it.

At least, that was the idea.

Judging by her delight, he seemed to have hit the bull’s-eye.

“’Tis not a bad notion, coming from you.”

From Holo’s lashing tongue, such a statement was like getting full marks on a test.

Col stood from the bed and busily began preparing to leave.

They were a strange trio, but here and now, Lawrence could scarcely imagine anything more comforting.

As expected, when they informed the innkeeper that they wished to view the narwhal, he told them to simply mention Kieman’s name at the church.

Kieman had unquestionably expected this.

Lawrence did not care enough to ask Holo to be certain, but once they left the inn, they would probably have several people tailing them.

The church faced a prominent avenue on the south side of Kerube and was the grandest building there.

Unlike the buildings on the north side, the architecture of the south had a fixed height and build so as not to stand out or be excessively showy—and among such buildings, the church’s beauty and grandeur was impressive indeed.

Its tower rose high above any other building, and its top housed a bell polished to shine so brightly that it was easily visible even from the ground below. The grand gate that faced the avenue had thick wooden doors that must have required great effort to open and close and was reinforced with countless iron bands. It could surely repel even the largest army of demons.

The building itself was made from large stones, with a passage from scriptures carved atop the entrance. A benevolent angel looked down on all who passed through.

It was a profound sight.

If one ventured deep enough into the forest, one might see a great tree that seemed tall enough to reach to the heavens. Such trees were usually the holy residences of local gods or spirits, and standing before one was an awe-inspiring experience.

But before them now was not some great tree tended by some unfathomable power, but rather a church built by human hands on human land.

And within it was not some sharp-fanged god but a benevolent God in human form.

It was true that in comparison to this, the pagans who prayed at waterfalls and springs, worshipped toads, and feared the cries of beasts as the words of the gods seemed worryingly barbaric.

Even with a wisewolf standing right there beside him, Lawrence could not help but think so.

If he had not found himself being dragged along by the ear by an irritated Holo, Lawrence would have continued to stand there dumbstruck.

“Come, let us hurry in.”

A throng had gathered in front of the church, and listening to them, the group could tell they were abuzz with talk of the narwhal. It seemed the news had gotten out—indeed, no door could contain a wagging tongue.

But between the assemblage and their goal of paying their respects to the narwhal stood guards armed with spears.

Lawrence and Col found themselves dragged as far as the entrance by Holo, but where they would begin to ascend the stairs that led to the church, they were stopped by the guards.

“The church is currently conducting official business. None may enter.”

Influence was a strange, invisible power indeed.

“We are from the Rowen Trade Guild. We’ve permission from Mr. Kieman.”

At those words, the guards exchanged a glance, understanding that trouble would arise if they turned Lawrence away. Reluctantly, they lowered their spears and beckoned entry.

“My thanks,” said Lawrence with a smile, pulling the still-irritated Holo along as he entered the church.

Col seemed rather nervous and clutched the sleeve of Holo’s robe as he followed along.

“It’s quiet.”

Though it was a church, being built at this scale made it feel more like a castle.

And while mountain castles were small, dark, shabby affairs with sheep and pigs wandering about the keep, this was a proper city castle.

Passing through the entrance, they saw a round ceiling painted with a colorful scene from the scriptures, and columns carved in the forms of strange mythological creatures made it clear this place was not of the secular world.

There were few windows and so many candles—expensive beeswax candles that gave off little smoke in order to avoid damaging the paintings with soot.

Lawrence looked back and saw the crowd outside straining to see past the guards, who still blocked the entrance.

If they received special treatment like this all the time, it was little wonder that the Church elite were so high and mighty.

“It must be farther in,” said Holo, her nose twitching.

No matter how grand its construction, every church shared the same basic plan.

The sanctuary should lie straight ahead, and any holy or special objects would be beneath or behind the altar.

Before Lawrence could say anything, Holo forged ahead. Her footsteps made it seem as though she were being beckoned by something. Then, the moment she reached her hand out to the open, intricately carved door to the sanctuary—

“Who goes there?” a high voice rang out, and even Holo flinched in surprise.

But it wasn’t like Holo to be caught unawares. She had simply been very, very focused on what lay ahead—the legendary beast whose flesh granted long life and which she had long ago chased herself.

“Who goes there? Guards!”

It was a tall, thin man with a high nose wearing a cream-colored robe.

A glance at his nervous face would have made it clear to anyone that he was a man of the Church, and his high voice sounded like a strangling chicken.

“My humble apologies. We were referred here by Lud Kieman of the Rowen Trade Guild.” Lawrence made sure to mention Kieman’s name before speaking his own. “There seems to have been some mistake.”

No organization was as preoccupied with rules and regulations as the Church. But human connections superseded written rules.

“What? The Rowen…? Ah, excuse me.” The man calmed himself as quickly as he had angered and waved off the guards that approached from the hall.

The guards from the entrance barely seemed to notice. Perhaps this sort of thing happened often.

“Ahem. I am the assistant priest of this church, Sean Natole.”

“I am Kraft Lawrence of the Rowen Trade Guild.”

“I’m Holo.”

“I am Tote Col.”

Holo had introduced herself with her attention still on what lay past the door, while Col was carefully polite.

A merchant, a girl dressed like a nun, and a boy in tattered clothes—it was a strange combination, but to someone who had lived nearly his entire life within the Church, almost anything from the secular world was strange.

The priest did not seem particularly mystified.

“Is that so? Have you come here to pray, then?”

When it came to speaking their minds, clergymen were second to none.

Lawrence quietly cleared his throat. “No, we came here in hopes of being allowed to view the narwhal…”

“Ah…” The assistant priest, who had introduced himself as Natole, looked them over appraisingly, undoubtedly trying to guess how much of a tithe they would leave. “Even having stated your goal,” continued Natole, cutting off Lawrence’s attempt to respond, “we have yet to determine whether the thing, which has been brought to this church, is good or evil. While it is true that God has made everything that is, this particular creature is so strange that the head priest is currently seeking God’s aid in determining its nature. While an introduction from Mr. Kieman of the Rowen Trade Guild is no small thing…”

The assistant priest seemed to be accustomed to rambling at length, but Holo’s patience was at its end.

Having no other choice, Lawrence smiled and approached Natole, reaching inside his coat as he did so. “Actually, Mr. Kieman instructed me to give his regards to Father Natole, God’s faithful servant.” He then took Natole’s hand, and in the same motion, he passed the priest a note.

“…Be assured that the message is received,” said Natole casually, clearing his throat again. “The creature in question is currently being identified in the sanctuary, but I suppose I could allow you to view it.”

“You have my sincere gratitude,” said Lawrence by way of exaggerated thanks.

Natole nodded, not at all displeased, then approached the door by which Holo still stood, unbarring and opening it.

“As my holy walk is yet incomplete, I am prohibited from gazing upon it myself.” Translation: He was too afraid of anything pagan to look at it. Either that, or he hesitated to enter the sanctuary immediately after having taken a bribe.

Regardless, Lawrence followed Holo into the sanctuary, a wry smile on his face.

The smile was not because of the disagreeable priest, though. It was aimed at Holo, who had been so eager to get past the door while it was closed but now hesitated when it was open.

“Go on,” urged Lawrence quietly, pushing her from behind.

If she had tried to find the narwhal long ago, that meant there must have been someone to whom she wanted to feed its meat.

Was it the villager she had met in Pasloe during the centuries she spent there? Or was it someone else, someone whom she had met on her travels?

But she had failed to obtain the meat, and whoever she had wanted to give it to had died.

Had she been there when they died? Or had they passed away while she was traveling? Lawrence did not know, but he was quite certain she had not said good-bye with a smile.

But perhaps her friend had.

And now Holo was faced with it again, hence her expression.

“…This is…,” murmured Col.

A stone walkway led straight ahead into a room filled with hundreds and hundreds of long, wooden pews.

Atop the walkway rested a faded carpet as if leading to the very heavens themselves.

At the end of the path, set in the high far wall, was a giant stained-glass depiction of God flanked by angels singing His praises.

And beneath that stood an altar where God’s representative would stand and lead the congregation, and beneath that was a large casket.

They were still far away but could catch glimpses of the strange form within.

The large casket seemed to be filled with water, and the living legend within it shifted as if having noticed them, causing the water to slosh.

At the same time, there came the knocking sound of the creature’s horn upon the wood of the container.

“It’s really there.”

None of the three of them could take another step.

Curiosity killed the cat, but a merchant’s curiosity could kill the gods.

Nevertheless, it was hard to approach.

Lawrence felt as if he understood how the legend that eating the creature’s flesh granted long life had gotten its start.

“Shall we get closer?”

Lawrence placed his hand on Holo’s shoulder, and she looked up at him in surprise.

“…”

She then shook her head wordlessly, turning forward again.

As she stood there blankly gazing at the narwhal, it seemed as if she was saying good-bye to her past.

“I-is that a god, too?” inquired Col in a small voice. He had been holding on to Holo’s sleeve the entire time and at some point had grabbed ahold of Lawrence’s coat as well.

“I wonder. What do you think?” Lawrence asked, handing the question over to Holo, who seemed extremely irritated by it.

Perhaps she did not want such questions to be posed to her, but who else was there who could answer them?

“At the very least, it is within the realm of normal animals. Anything beyond that has a special scent. But I do not sense that here.”

Col and Lawrence sniffed deliberately, and Holo turned to face them, a lonely look in her eyes. Col seemed to understand her meaning and hurried to come up with something to say but failed to find the words.

Lawrence put his hand on the boy’s head. “Just a bad joke,” he said, looking at Holo, who turned away without a hint of self-reflection about her.

“Well, if that’s how big it is and this is the extent of the guards they’ve posted…,” mused Holo in a still softer voice as she looked around the room.

Evidently her proposal to simply take the narwhal and escape—what she’d originally encouraged Lawrence to do—had not been entirely academic.

“Wasn’t that just a hypothetical plan?”

Holo smiled maliciously and cocked her head. “If your fear could always be curbed by hypothetical notions, ’twould make things easier for me.”

“…”

It was true there was nothing wrong with knowing they could steal the narwhal whenever they wanted.

“The problem is from whence to enter.”

“What about breaking through the front door?”

“It could be difficult if that door were shut tight.”

Lawrence thought back to those iron-reinforced doors.

In point of fact, the church housed many valuable items, and during wartime, it would be the first place attacked and the last where townspeople could make their stand.

The front entrance had surely been constructed to withstand siege weapons.

Even for Holo, it would be difficult to breach.

“What about through that?” Col pointed to the stained-glass window positioned above the narwhal. A wall of colored glass.

It was constructed to let in light, but given Holo’s great size, she would need an entrance about as large.

“We’d be cursed for trying,” said Lawrence, which made Holo’s throat rumble in amusement.

“Heh-heh. It might feel rather nice to smash through that and leap in here.”

Terrifyingly, there was no hint of jest in her voice.

“That might be the only way in, but that glass is built that way so as to keep the wall from collapsing. If we just destroy it, we could be in real trouble.”

“Hmm?” Holo and Col, who had been giggling conspiratorially, looked up in unison.

“When a building gets this large, you can’t just make it entirely out of stone. The weight is too much, and the structure can’t hold itself up; it’ll collapse. So you make part of it out of glass, which is lighter, to avoid that. If you look carefully, you can see the iron rods supporting the joists. If we break those, things could get bad.”

The fact that all sanctuaries had stained-glass windows out of sheer necessity was rather disappointing—it felt somehow sad that even the Church’s buildings were not exempt from the rules of the world.

“We shall worry about that when the time comes,” said Holo, sighing impatiently before continuing on. “If you would work a bit harder, I’d not have to bear so much of the danger.”

It was true.

Lawrence could only look away in shame. Col smiled slightly and said, “I know you can do it, Mr. Lawrence,” which Holo found amusing.

“Well, let’s hurry back. Father Natole will get suspicious.”

“Mm.”

“All right!”

The two answered simultaneously, but Lawrence, worried, put the question to them again. “Do you really not want to have a closer look?”

“I’m fine,” said Col, looking a touch scared.

A troubled Holo replied, “I care not.”

Both of them seemed frightened in more ways than one.

And even Lawrence felt something that made it hard to approach the strange, one-horned beast.

He could not say that he did not understand why Natole would have begged off entering the sanctuary. The narwhal was a creature spoken of only in myths that proclaimed that its flesh granted long life and that medicine made from its horn cured disease. But here it was, real. And one thing was certain—the legends were well deserved.

They would have to prepare themselves.

But now that they knew Holo was capable of breaching the church, she would never let Lawrence turn tail.

They expressed their thanks to Natole, and once he had closed the doors of the church behind him, Lawrence could not help but speak up.

“It certainly had an aura befitting the legends. No wonder it’s captured the minds of so many people.”

Natole closed the door’s bar with a loud clunk and then turned around with his face full of fright. “It’s a terrifying thing, truly.”

There was no question that the narwhal’s presence put the Church in a bad position.

The people of the Church claimed God as their ally and were thus feared by many. But there were surely people in the world who did not fear God.

Turning a living legend like the narwhal into money meant treating it no differently than the many other goods in which they traded.

To have sufficient nerve to do such a thing, it was as if they lived in another world.

Once they were back on the crowded avenue, Lawrence finally felt able to take a deep breath.

“Still,” Lawrence said, standing proudly and looking at Holo next to him. “I suppose I’ve used you to bargain with myself.”

Given that she was unable to actually read minds, Holo probably would not see the connection Lawrence’s words were drawing. But the wisewolf appeared to quickly grasp the conflict to which Lawrence was alluding. She grinned despite Col’s wide-eyed surprise at the confession that Lawrence had put Holo in hock.

“So we’ve naught to fear, do we?” she said, moving her body closer as they passed through the crowds. She slipped her hand into his, and indeed, there was nothing more fear inspiring than that.

Lawrence smiled, looking at Col with a sigh. “Looks like our wisewolf speaks the truth.”

Col nodded, looked back and forth between Holo and Lawrence and—amusingly—nodded again.

It was evening when Kieman again came knocking at their door, and Lawrence and company were in the middle of dinner.

Just as expected, the meal the inn had provided was a grand one, and Holo was properly joyous while Col occasionally choked on his food.

But the fact that Kieman called upon them in the evening was proof that he did not consider them mere fools—because the best time to approach a troublesome opponent is either to wake them up or to interrupt their meal.

“Would you care to join us?” offered Lawrence as he brushed bread crumbs off his hands. Kieman raised both hands with a smile.

“I’ll pass,” he answered. “If possible, I’d like to speak with you outside, Mr. Lawrence.”

Lawrence had no intention of refusing such an offer.

He gave Col and Holo a look, then stood and went with Kieman into the hallway.

Simply having Col there so Holo was not alone during her meal was a big help, although if Lawrence was to tell her that, she would give him quite a look indeed.

“So, about the topic at hand,” began Kieman as soon as they had entered another room. Lawrence initially wondered if it was a storage room, but it seemed that it was a space Kieman had reserved for private contemplation. It was candlelit, and there were stacks of rolled-up maps, all of which were lettered in writing Lawrence had never seen before.

“We wish to ask you, Mr. Lawrence, to act as our messenger.”

Was he using the first-person plural simply to intimidate, or were there actually multiple parties?

Lawrence decided to conduct his negotiations standing, like a proper traveling merchant would. “Might I ask the reason for that?”

“Naturally. To be blunt, originally this duty was not yours.”

Of course it wasn’t.

“Initially we’d intended to use Ted Reynolds, master of the Jean Company—you’re familiar with it, yes?—to convey our intentions. The reason was—”

“—He wanted to escape the manipulations of the north.”

Kieman nodded and continued. “He contacted us, and using him would allow us to profit in the copper trade. So he was our first choice. Moreover, his connections to the Bolan family are quite strong. He controls the whole import-export trade of it on the Roam River, probably given his ties with the wolf.”

Lawrence immediately remembered the salt trade.

If the Jean Company was shipping copper coins to the Winfiel kingdom, it would not be surprising if he was receiving salt statues in return. In which case, there was another way to interpret Reynolds’s nervous visit the previous night. He had been worrying about the source of his greatest profit.

Quite likely he expected Kieman and the others on the south side to call on him, but he had been mistaken. And when he asked why, he would have soon realized that they had found a more convenient individual. He must have been trying to play the conflict between the north and south to his own coin purse’s advantage. If so, it was possible that his shameful, nervous act the previous night had just been part of his plan.

The sad shape of his receding form was likely proof of how pathetic he found himself for resorting to such ploys.

“Our goal is this: By using the narwhal, we wish to gain full ownership of the northern district.”

“But without allowing them to use the resulting profit to then control the entire town.”

Kieman nodded.

It seemed he was thinking of something very similar to what Eve had proposed.

But that did not mean that Eve was particularly incredible or that Kieman’s imagination was lacking.

In circumstances when one could not absolutely trust one’s partner but still had to sit down at the table and negotiate with them, following such a plan was the most reasonable course of action.

Given that, Lawrence finally felt he understood why Eve had called on him.

In this particular situation, someone who did not understand the links between the north and south side would be unsuitable.

The only way the two parties could negotiate on an equal level was if their mediator was equally likely to betray either side. After that, it was simply a fight to sway that mediator.

“A man in one of the northern landlord families is infatuated with the head of the Bolan house. We must use this. So long as the head of the Bolan family does not betray us, we can ensure a good outcome both for her and ourselves…but we do not know how this will play out yet.”

Lawrence was well aware that Eve’s situation was a complicated one. There was no telling what she might employ. She was like an alchemist’s kettle.

“The messenger might well be our ally or, depending on circumstances, could change his allegiance to the other side. That is the sort of person we need. Otherwise, the wolf of the Roam River will be too cautious to approach us. Of course, we must ensure that we ultimately triumph, so our strategy must be a foolproof one…and sadly, the goods in question are easily spoiled.”

It was a living narwhal, after all.

“What do you want me to do specifically?”

Kieman cleared his throat. He closed his eyes as if reviewing the entire plan.

“We literally wish you to convey messages for us. We do not trust her, nor does the wolf trust us. But we trust you, and she does as well. You need only bring our proposal to them: The condition of the narwhal. The price. The method of delivery. The time. Or possibly the contingencies for escape. You’ll carry that information to them and then bring their replies back to us.”

“And the profit?”

Kieman grinned, his canines strangely prominent behind his thin lips. “I’d like this to result in the Rowen Trade Guild becoming the preeminent guild on the south side. The current guild house chief, Jeeta, has become complacent—I’ll replace him. And the resulting profit…” He paused for effect like an actor. “…I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

Instead of hauling goods by himself, selling them in person with his own words, that work was left to others and the profits simply piled up in the ledger.

It was like another world. A transformation from merchant to something completely different.

In receiving a small share of that, the profit that would fall from the sky would be astounding.

“Of course, this is a mere verbal promise, which means the wolf has a chance to sway you to her side.”

“Indeed. And she could offer me concrete profit, no doubt.”

That is, she was able to swindle everyone so spectacularly that she gained the narwhal for herself. Eve, the former noblewoman, could then sell it off to the highest bidder. It was quite possible that she would then be able to offer him a sea of gold coins as compensation.

“I’d prefer not to have to deal with the wolf, but without doing so, there’s no chance for success at all. She’s simply that powerful.”

Kieman’s words were heavy with meaning.

It was already clear that the landlord’s son who was so infatuated with Eve would not betray his family solely for his own gain. But if it was for Eve, that was another story.

Excuses were very powerful things.

And when the reason was love, even a dwarf could defeat a dragon.

“Understood, then. I believe I see my role in all of this.” Lawrence smiled, and Kieman returned the expression.

An exchange of smiles signified the conclusion of a secret deal. It was so in all the legends of clandestine, nervous dealings—bearded merchants snickering to each other over their successes.

“I’m glad to hear that. However…”

“However?” asked Lawrence, which made Kieman smile like a guileless boy.

“However, I truly thought I’d had you completely under my control. How…how did you regain your footing?”

At these words, Lawrence smiled and looked at the floor.

It was true, after all.

At the branch office on the delta, Lawrence had been completely trapped by Kieman—utterly and perfectly, like a puppet.

And yet after only a short time, the puppet had regained its soul. No wonder the puppet master was surprised.

Of course, Kieman himself ought to have some notion as to why.

So seeing Lawrence smile silently, Kieman spoke. “I apologize for asking such a foolish question. Neither merchants, knights, nor kings can accomplish so very much on their own. Priests are no different.”

Lawrence understood merchants, knights, and kings—but not priests. Every great merchant, knight, or king had a great lover to become his wife and support him.

But what of priests?

“They have their God,” Lawrence could not help murmuring to himself past his smile.

So with Holo supporting him, how far would he be able to go?

“Well, we’re both walking on thin ice made solid only with lies—so let us each do our best, eh?” Still sitting, Kieman extended his hand.

Lawrence took it and gripped it with obvious force.

“Now then, I can’t very well do side dealings all day. If you need to contact me, simply speak to the innkeeper. Also, we won’t do anything so tasteless as eavesdropping on you, so if you’d be so kind to return the favor.”

“Indeed. Doubt and misunderstanding lead always to misfortune.”

Kieman nodded and stood.

Unlike their initial meeting in his office, he escorted Lawrence out of the room. “This should all be settled by the evening after tomorrow.”

He hid the word desperately behind a sly smile.

“In that case even if we can’t sleep from nerves, we should be able to see it through,” said Lawrence, which made Kieman smile, and he began to walk.

His footsteps were easy and casual, and if someone had happened to chance upon that hallway, he would never have suspected that Kieman and Lawrence knew each other.

Alone in the hallway, Lawrence smiled wryly. “He didn’t say a thing about what’ll happen if we fail,” he murmured.

He himself had done something similar in the Church city of Ruvinheigen—swindling a poor shepherdess by speaking only of the possible profits.

Back then he had felt nearly crushed with guilt for this. But what of it?

Kieman had acted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lawrence had no confidence that he could be or act like that.

Thanks to Holo, he had a way to recover if the situation became truly untenable.

But that was absolutely a method of last resort for the sake of his own reassurance. What she really wanted was for him to extract his own share out of these dealings, not just complete his tasks safely.

Could he truly outwit such opponents?

He had no choice but to try, and having come this far, he rather wanted to.

Lawrence scratched his forehead and began to walk.

In the darkness, he bared his teeth in a smile.

He felt like reading an epic.