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Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Since she could also tell the size and temperature of the spring, a severe problem for many—unearthing a new hot spring in the area for setting up an establishment—was no more difficult for her than twisting a baby's arm.
Searching at night a bit in her wolf form, it had taken her but two days to find one.
Lawrence's only expenses were honey-preserved fruit and occasionally lending out the spring to the deer and bears whose territory encompassed this area.
It was not difficult work, for though the hot spring was in a cave, Holo's ears, able to discern even the purity of a silver coin, searched for sounds of water, and she was easily able to remove boulders that seemed unmovable by human means.
There were old stories that if one trapped a fairy in a bottle and fed it a sweet, it would lead a person all the way to a vein of gold. This was not far from that, though unlike the stories, if one opened the lid of this bottle, the fairy would not run off.
As the two walked through Nyohhira's central town without a word between them, Lawrence stole glances at the side of Holo's face, as if confirming his good fortune.
"Hanna went to pluck some herbs." Holo looked in another direction as she spoke.
Her gaze led to a public bath where mercenaries, travelers, and hunters from nearby, who had come in to sell the meat and pelts from the game they had felled, were drinking and relaxing together. There was also sunny music being played as an apparent competition unfolded, with men, still buck naked from their time in the bath, boasting to one another about their scars.
As Holo was staring at them with very little restraint, several men raised both hands and cried out something or other to her as they noticed.
Holo, quite fond of pranks, turned her face away like a bashful maiden, chuckling as she listened to the men's boisterous cheer.
"So?"
When Lawrence made an exasperated laugh and prompted her, Holo turned back to the men once more and made a small wave of her hand. "Aye. After you left, someone called for the lad and he went out, too."
"So you got lonely?"
Even though she was stubborn in odd places, she was oddly pleased as he posed his question.
As if no longer paying one shred of attention to the noisy men of the bathhouse, she clung to Lawrence's arm and swayed her tail about. "I procured wine as well."
The way she said it was rich with meaning, but as Lawrence looked down at Holo, he sighed again. Lately he felt like he was getting older; no doubt that was because the number of his sighs had increased.
"No doubt that's what you were really after."
"Heh-heh." Holo curled her lips as she smiled.
As Lawrence lightly looked around the area, he embraced Holo tightly, as if her feet were floating up to the heavens, and walked forward once more.
Afterward, he sent for a sleigh to take them out of town, and they returned home together.
It went without her saying—of course she had procured wine.
As Lawrence peeked into the kitchen, there was already a platter of pork sausages and cured meat.
As Hanna was a very frugal person who would have never dreamt of such things, Holo had no doubt twisted her arm into making it.
"Honestly..." As he ate one slice of the thickly sliced pork sausage, Lawrence took a plate out of a nearby cabinet and put sweet, dried fruit on it, carrying it along with pitchers for both wine and mead.
Once it felt like he had enjoyed alcohol in proportion to its volume, but he had taken a liking to sweet things like mead of late. Sweet alcohol was not something a person gulped down in order to get drunk. He was glad it meant one needed fewer snacks.
But perhaps because he had let his guard down like that, his girth had grown larger of late, which Holo had pointed out to him. Though that put him one step closer to being a portly town shopkeeper, he had to smile wryly at how his journeys were finally over.
| "Did Holo chase you off?"
As Lawrence asked, it regarded him out of the corner of its eye, slumping down at a bend in the road.
Though he had at first been fearful, now that he knew he could speak to it through Holo, it differed little from a mercenary of few words.
Handing off two slices of sausage as he passed by, he arrived at the bath.
"Hmm..."
Holo, in her giant wolf form, was sprawled over the little island in the center of the large bath. Holo only allowed other beasts to share the same bath when she was in a foul mood—put another way, only when Lawrence was not there to join her.
When she evicted all interlopers and sprawled herself over the island like a king holding court, it was proof she was in a rather good mood indeed.
When she wanted to be alone or was sulking and so forth, she would go to a corner of the bath in human form, offering little clue as to where she was. The point being, she wanted more attention, she wanted the company—or the like. Even with Lawrence's arrival, Holo did not open her eyes; only her large, well-steamed tail moved, swaying around in the bath.
Even without guests, they had to ensure that the baths were not leaking or otherwise in poor shape, so they had been using the baths practically every day this winter. Holo was overjoyed to immerse herself day after day, but she had become quite sick of bathing by herself. Col might have entered alone more than she had; often whatever what was on one's mind came to a boil when in a bath.
Once Lawrence set the food and drink down in the usual spot, he took a good look around the bath.
Since a variety of beasts often bathed here—a sight that would shock or enliven the hearts of hunters if they could only see it—it was possible something might be damaged. As he had made a point of strictly telling Holo to fix anything that might be broken, he had seen bears, deer, and rabbits fixing the stone arrangement more than once.
It was something right out of a fairy tale, he thought, drifting off as he recalled the scenes.
At any rate, there were no problems at the moment. The ducts that led to the bath were the same as always. Leave it to Holo to use her nose to find a bath by means literally beyond human facility. Though the elevation was higher than that of other bathhouses, the water volume and temperature were first-rate.
"It's not too hot?"
Even though Lawrence asked in a loud voice, Holo's tail merely continued to sway back and forth at the same speed. Meaning, it was fine.
From there, Lawrence inspected the ducts drawing in drinking water all around the area. It was believed that drinking hot spring water so rich in minerals that one could feel them on their teeth worked against all illnesses. Lawrence had found the claim highly dubious since being stricken by diarrhea the first day he had drank the water, but as the water tester he had to put up with it.
But today, too, the rough matting laid around to keep refuse from getting into the bath was in bad shape. The hot spring minerals stuck to it, plugging the gaps. Col had pondered the matter as well, but there was not any good solution to it. As other bathhouses used manpower to bring potable water in, he wanted to stand out somehow with a water fountain or something like that.
For the time being, I'll have to skip bathing and clean all this, he thought, making another sigh as he rose up. "I'll have to give it a sweep."
As he looked up at the sky, judging from the very hazy color, a change in wind direction would no doubt bring considerable snowfall. While falling snow getting into the bath was not a bad thing, being cold on the way back up to the main building was an inconvenience.
He racked his mind trying to think of a way to improve things, but no good plan came to mind.
As he did so, Holo, on the small island, raised her head and spoke. "Your head fills itself with bad thoughts."
"You want to eat honey-preserved currants, right? I need to make some money, then."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Did Holo chase you off?"
As Lawrence asked, it regarded him out of the corner of its eye, slumping down at a bend in the road.
Though he had at first been fearful, now that he knew he could speak to it through Holo, it differed little from a mercenary of few words.
Handing off two slices of sausage as he passed by, he arrived at the bath.
"Hmm..."
Holo, in her giant wolf form, was sprawled over the little island in the center of the large bath. Holo only allowed other beasts to share the same bath when she was in a foul mood—put another way, only when Lawrence was not there to join her.
When she evicted all interlopers and sprawled herself over the island like a king holding court, it was proof she was in a rather good mood indeed.
When she wanted to be alone or was sulking and so forth, she would go to a corner of the bath in human form, offering little clue as to where she was. The point being, she wanted more attention, she wanted the company—or the like. Even with Lawrence's arrival, Holo did not open her eyes; only her large, well-steamed tail moved, swaying around in the bath.
Even without guests, they had to ensure that the baths were not leaking or otherwise in poor shape, so they had been using the baths practically every day this winter. Holo was overjoyed to immerse herself day after day, but she had become quite sick of bathing by herself. Col might have entered alone more than she had; often whatever what was on one's mind came to a boil when in a bath.
Once Lawrence set the food and drink down in the usual spot, he took a good look around the bath.
Since a variety of beasts often bathed here—a sight that would shock or enliven the hearts of hunters if they could only see it—it was possible something might be damaged. As he had made a point of strictly telling Holo to fix anything that might be broken, he had seen bears, deer, and rabbits fixing the stone arrangement more than once.
It was something right out of a fairy tale, he thought, drifting off as he recalled the scenes.
At any rate, there were no problems at the moment. The ducts that led to the bath were the same as always. Leave it to Holo to use her nose to find a bath by means literally beyond human facility. Though the elevation was higher than that of other bathhouses, the water volume and temperature were first-rate.
"It's not too hot?"
Even though Lawrence asked in a loud voice, Holo's tail merely continued to sway back and forth at the same speed. Meaning, it was fine.
From there, Lawrence inspected the ducts drawing in drinking water all around the area. It was believed that drinking hot spring water so rich in minerals that one could feel them on their teeth worked against all illnesses. Lawrence had found the claim highly dubious since being stricken by diarrhea the first day he had drank the water, but as the water tester he had to put up with it.
But today, too, the rough matting laid around to keep refuse from getting into the bath was in bad shape. The hot spring minerals stuck to it, plugging the gaps. Col had pondered the matter as well, but there was not any good solution to it. As other bathhouses used manpower to bring potable water in, he wanted to stand out somehow with a water fountain or something like that.
For the time being, I'll have to skip bathing and clean all this, he thought, making another sigh as he rose up. "I'll have to give it a sweep."
As he looked up at the sky, judging from the very hazy color, a change in wind direction would no doubt bring considerable snowfall. While falling snow getting into the bath was not a bad thing, being cold on the way back up to the main building was an inconvenience.
He racked his mind trying to think of a way to improve things, but no good plan came to mind.
As he did so, Holo, on the small island, raised her head and spoke. "Your head fills itself with bad thoughts."
"You want to eat honey-preserved currants, right? I need to make some money, then."
| "Not that you've ever done it. Why not learn from Miss Hanna?"
Instead of rebutting, Holo bared her fangs at him in a wordless laugh, making a large splash with her tail that made the bathwater churn.
"There are things one cannot grasp no matter how hard one tries."
Then she rose up, making a growl as she stretched her back.
"For example?"
"For example?" Holo parroted back before making a great sway of her head to the side, plunging into the bath.
She immersed herself without restraint, her entire body diving into the hot water.
As the depth was, of course, not very great, the face that popped out was that of a person.
"For example, a rainbow." She'd probably heard the words from some poet. There were many of such people in Nyohhira.
"Would you stop diving in like that? You'll mess up the stone arrangement."
"If they come apart that easily, arrange them more solidly next time."
On their journeys, whenever they found a spring during the summertime, Holo would adopt wolf form and plunge in. It was only since coming to Nyohhira that he learned Holo had done her share of swimming before, but not in human form.
Just then, too, Holo swam earnestly for a while, eventually giving that up and walking as far as the edge.
"Like certain friends of ours." Immersed in hot water up to her hips, Holo raised her drenched hair up, speaking as she gave him a defiant smile.
"Fool." As Lawrence mimicked Holo's manner of speech, Holo made a small chuckle as she smiled, then made a small sneeze. "Soak yourself to the shoulders already. Wine for you?"
"Aye."
Hearing her reply, he took hold of the cord around the neck of the pitcher when she said, "On second thought, I shall have mead, the same as you."
She really did seem to be in a good mood.
As Lawrence moved to pour the drink into a pair of wooden cups, Holo checked him with a hand. One cup was fine, in other words.
"After all, that drink could be even sweeter."
So Holo spoke while having a sip. That mead was sweet enough that serious connoisseurs would even say it did not count as proper alcohol. Amazed, Lawrence stripped off his clothes and immersed himself in the hot water, accepting the cup from her.
"You're too extreme in your tastes."
"Ohh? But if it wasn't for this, I could hardly spend time with a fool like you."
As he heard the words, he raised his face to the sky as he handed the cup back. "Goodness...but, I have to do something about these cups..."
"Mm?"
"The cups. Wooden cups are convenient, but..."
"They're not good enough?"
"They're cheap, no two ways about it. Silver cups are the top class, but..."
At the Morris bathhouse, which received numerous top-class guests, the owner made a great show of using actual silver utensils. If Lawrence tried to use silver utensils in a place like this, they would turn black in an instant. He would need to soak them in oil when not in use and kill himself polishing them before and after each use.
Though steel, tin, and bronze did not require so much labor, they all came off as cheap. Brass was an option, but it was difficult to obtain.
That left rustic earthenware and uncracked, cheap wooden utensils as the only candidates.
"I would think it of little import to one who cares only about what's inside, like you do."
As Holo took the cup back once more, she drank as she spun Lawrence's words into yarn.
"Well, that's why you picked me, isn't it?"
"...Ha!"
Holo snorted a blunt laugh as she brought a slice of pork sausage to her lips.
"Well, 'tis pointless just thinking about it, I think."
"Ah?"
"Are the guests you invite here really so meager as to pay attention only to material things?"
A smile that somehow smelled of victory came over Holo as she gazed squarely at Lawrence.
Those were the eyes of a young man about to set off on an adventure. Such eyes did not doubt their own judgment whatsoever, full of faith that the future waiting for them held only radiance.
Holo came to Lawrence's side.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Not that you've ever done it. Why not learn from Miss Hanna?"
Instead of rebutting, Holo bared her fangs at him in a wordless laugh, making a large splash with her tail that made the bathwater churn.
"There are things one cannot grasp no matter how hard one tries."
Then she rose up, making a growl as she stretched her back.
"For example?"
"For example?" Holo parroted back before making a great sway of her head to the side, plunging into the bath.
She immersed herself without restraint, her entire body diving into the hot water.
As the depth was, of course, not very great, the face that popped out was that of a person.
"For example, a rainbow." She'd probably heard the words from some poet. There were many of such people in Nyohhira.
"Would you stop diving in like that? You'll mess up the stone arrangement."
"If they come apart that easily, arrange them more solidly next time."
On their journeys, whenever they found a spring during the summertime, Holo would adopt wolf form and plunge in. It was only since coming to Nyohhira that he learned Holo had done her share of swimming before, but not in human form.
Just then, too, Holo swam earnestly for a while, eventually giving that up and walking as far as the edge.
"Like certain friends of ours." Immersed in hot water up to her hips, Holo raised her drenched hair up, speaking as she gave him a defiant smile.
"Fool." As Lawrence mimicked Holo's manner of speech, Holo made a small chuckle as she smiled, then made a small sneeze. "Soak yourself to the shoulders already. Wine for you?"
"Aye."
Hearing her reply, he took hold of the cord around the neck of the pitcher when she said, "On second thought, I shall have mead, the same as you."
She really did seem to be in a good mood.
As Lawrence moved to pour the drink into a pair of wooden cups, Holo checked him with a hand. One cup was fine, in other words.
"After all, that drink could be even sweeter."
So Holo spoke while having a sip. That mead was sweet enough that serious connoisseurs would even say it did not count as proper alcohol. Amazed, Lawrence stripped off his clothes and immersed himself in the hot water, accepting the cup from her.
"You're too extreme in your tastes."
"Ohh? But if it wasn't for this, I could hardly spend time with a fool like you."
As he heard the words, he raised his face to the sky as he handed the cup back. "Goodness...but, I have to do something about these cups..."
"Mm?"
"The cups. Wooden cups are convenient, but..."
"They're not good enough?"
"They're cheap, no two ways about it. Silver cups are the top class, but..."
At the Morris bathhouse, which received numerous top-class guests, the owner made a great show of using actual silver utensils. If Lawrence tried to use silver utensils in a place like this, they would turn black in an instant. He would need to soak them in oil when not in use and kill himself polishing them before and after each use.
Though steel, tin, and bronze did not require so much labor, they all came off as cheap. Brass was an option, but it was difficult to obtain.
That left rustic earthenware and uncracked, cheap wooden utensils as the only candidates.
"I would think it of little import to one who cares only about what's inside, like you do."
As Holo took the cup back once more, she drank as she spun Lawrence's words into yarn.
"Well, that's why you picked me, isn't it?"
"...Ha!"
Holo snorted a blunt laugh as she brought a slice of pork sausage to her lips.
"Well, 'tis pointless just thinking about it, I think."
"Ah?"
"Are the guests you invite here really so meager as to pay attention only to material things?"
A smile that somehow smelled of victory came over Holo as she gazed squarely at Lawrence.
Those were the eyes of a young man about to set off on an adventure. Such eyes did not doubt their own judgment whatsoever, full of faith that the future waiting for them held only radiance.
Holo came to Lawrence's side.
| "I suppose not," Lawrence said with a plain, self-derisive smile.
"Besides, I think 'tis meals that are more important. That fellow who you get along with poorly, what's his name..."
"Morris?"
"Aye. That's the one. The meals you get there are, ah, second-rate."
Sometimes Holo knew things that really made him wonder how she knew them.
Had someone invited her there and shared a meal with her...?
"I know because I heard from the birds and foxes that fish through their trash. Right now, the best is the one under the sign with the two oaks."
"Jeck's place, eh...? That place is certainly thriving, though its facilities are fairly poor..."
"I think the meals are the secret."
Since they were all places where everyone stripped bare, bathhouses were more secretive than other establishments in town. While Lawrence's thoughts crept along in his own fashion, Holo's presence was strongly felt as his right-hand man, so to speak. One might think this was to be expected of one who was sometimes—though largely against her wishes—called a god.
"So then, you."
"Yeah?"
"Could you not arrange a great and fine banquet for the saint's festival?"
Holo wrapped both arms around Lawrence's neck and grinned as she spoke. Perhaps it was the minerals of the hot spring at work, but the sensation he felt when they touched each other, naked like this, never failed to startle him.
The hot spring flush on Holo's cheeks was all the more conspicuous against her white skin.
"A-aye..."
But at this stage, it was not Holo's provocative behavior that made Lawrence stammer.
"Why so hesitant? Anyway, you had better prepare things properly. It has to be magnificent. You understand, do you not?"
Without taking much effort to stretch her neck, Holo was right at the range where her fangs could reach Lawrence's throat at any moment. As Holo started at him, making a hmm sound all the while, Lawrence came to feel rather nervous.
He had never imagined Holo would be the one to bring up that subject—calling over five old female acquaintances and arbitrarily deciding they would hold a banquet.
As Lawrence's vision swam, with a splash, Holo snuggled all against Lawrence's body.
Lawrence did not even have time to think, Oh no, when Holo spoke.
"In these matters, first impressions are very important. If you surprise them at the start, the fish tales later will be even bigger. I've used this technique for a very long time. Once you overwhelm your opponent, they'll rarely defy you even if you let up later, you see."
Even though she had the body of a maiden, this was hardly the first time she spoke with overinflated pride.
Besides, at the very least, it was fair to say that Lawrence occupying the position in Nyohhira that he now did was largely due to Holo's suggestions. Given that, he should have just quietly enjoyed himself, but the issue kept tugging at Lawrence's mind regardless.
Namely, what was Holo really after with this banquet?
"Now hold on, Holo."
"Mm?"
Even as he thought asking might be lifting the lid of a cauldron full of hellish things, he had to ask. There was no way she had a normal, lucid reason behind this.
If she was angry, she should have just said so. Being surrounded by wolves on the open plain was far preferable to hearing rustle after rustle from the shadows of trees in a dark forest.
Lawrence swallowed down.
And the very moment he said, "Now, Holo...," to ascertain her true intentions...
"What do you suppose you're doing!?" As Holo suddenly made an angry shout, he heard cries of birds and sounds of beasts running away the next moment.
When Lawrence looked, he saw a bird taking flight and the tail of a fox vanishing in a grove of trees, both having tried to take a bite of their snacks.
She was magnificently adult when she was chasing off beasts. No matter how much she might deny it, she behaved very much like one accustomed to standing above commoners.
Actually, Lawrence, too, found himself under her rump, her tail spread all over him.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I suppose not," Lawrence said with a plain, self-derisive smile.
"Besides, I think 'tis meals that are more important. That fellow who you get along with poorly, what's his name..."
"Morris?"
"Aye. That's the one. The meals you get there are, ah, second-rate."
Sometimes Holo knew things that really made him wonder how she knew them.
Had someone invited her there and shared a meal with her...?
"I know because I heard from the birds and foxes that fish through their trash. Right now, the best is the one under the sign with the two oaks."
"Jeck's place, eh...? That place is certainly thriving, though its facilities are fairly poor..."
"I think the meals are the secret."
Since they were all places where everyone stripped bare, bathhouses were more secretive than other establishments in town. While Lawrence's thoughts crept along in his own fashion, Holo's presence was strongly felt as his right-hand man, so to speak. One might think this was to be expected of one who was sometimes—though largely against her wishes—called a god.
"So then, you."
"Yeah?"
"Could you not arrange a great and fine banquet for the saint's festival?"
Holo wrapped both arms around Lawrence's neck and grinned as she spoke. Perhaps it was the minerals of the hot spring at work, but the sensation he felt when they touched each other, naked like this, never failed to startle him.
The hot spring flush on Holo's cheeks was all the more conspicuous against her white skin.
"A-aye..."
But at this stage, it was not Holo's provocative behavior that made Lawrence stammer.
"Why so hesitant? Anyway, you had better prepare things properly. It has to be magnificent. You understand, do you not?"
Without taking much effort to stretch her neck, Holo was right at the range where her fangs could reach Lawrence's throat at any moment. As Holo started at him, making a hmm sound all the while, Lawrence came to feel rather nervous.
He had never imagined Holo would be the one to bring up that subject—calling over five old female acquaintances and arbitrarily deciding they would hold a banquet.
As Lawrence's vision swam, with a splash, Holo snuggled all against Lawrence's body.
Lawrence did not even have time to think, Oh no, when Holo spoke.
"In these matters, first impressions are very important. If you surprise them at the start, the fish tales later will be even bigger. I've used this technique for a very long time. Once you overwhelm your opponent, they'll rarely defy you even if you let up later, you see."
Even though she had the body of a maiden, this was hardly the first time she spoke with overinflated pride.
Besides, at the very least, it was fair to say that Lawrence occupying the position in Nyohhira that he now did was largely due to Holo's suggestions. Given that, he should have just quietly enjoyed himself, but the issue kept tugging at Lawrence's mind regardless.
Namely, what was Holo really after with this banquet?
"Now hold on, Holo."
"Mm?"
Even as he thought asking might be lifting the lid of a cauldron full of hellish things, he had to ask. There was no way she had a normal, lucid reason behind this.
If she was angry, she should have just said so. Being surrounded by wolves on the open plain was far preferable to hearing rustle after rustle from the shadows of trees in a dark forest.
Lawrence swallowed down.
And the very moment he said, "Now, Holo...," to ascertain her true intentions...
"What do you suppose you're doing!?" As Holo suddenly made an angry shout, he heard cries of birds and sounds of beasts running away the next moment.
When Lawrence looked, he saw a bird taking flight and the tail of a fox vanishing in a grove of trees, both having tried to take a bite of their snacks.
She was magnificently adult when she was chasing off beasts. No matter how much she might deny it, she behaved very much like one accustomed to standing above commoners.
Actually, Lawrence, too, found himself under her rump, her tail spread all over him.
| It was just as she said. As it was humans that had forced their way into the mountains to live there, they of course came under attack by those who had dwelled in the forests and mountains for far longer. Were it not for Holo, he would have to hire people at considerable expense just to drive away beasts.
"Indeed. Ah, now then, you..."
"Hm?"
"What was it? Weren't you going to ask me something?"
Holo looked down at Lawrence with a smiling face as she asked.
But at this stage, Lawrence had no courage left in him to wave about.
"No, it's nothing..."
"Mm? Well, that's how it is. 'Twill be fun, will it not?" Immersing herself up to the shoulders, Holo snuggled against him as she spoke.
Those words—"'Twill be fun...?"—seemed entirely too meaningful. Lawrence soaked himself to his lips, making bubbling sounds as he closed his eyes.
Having been told to take care of the men, he had written letters of invitation to those who had attended the opening of his business and, separately, those he was friends with. Having said that, he had no acquaintances from long before anywhere in Nyohhira; there were not many people who he socialized with outside of business.
Holo had sent a letter to Eve without a shred of restraint, but if all those women did come, he had to gather a certain number of men to keep up appearances.
At any rate, Lawrence wrote to all the people he could think of.
Hilde of the Debau Company, Le Roi the book merchant, the Myuri Mercenary Company led by Luward, Hugues the art dealer, Kieman of the Rowan Trade Guild, Huskins the shepherd, and—though it was a reach—he thought of Mark, who had opened a shop in the same town Diana lived in. While writing to Amati, Lawrence could not help his hand stopping. Among all those who had been taken in by Holo's beauty and charm, no others had the stature to plainly convey those feelings to Holo. By that measure, he had been Lawrence's greatest rival during their journey.
Lawrence made a prayer to God and struck the name from his list.
Stretching his mind to the limits, there was Jakob, the guild hall master of Ruvinheigen; and the money changer Weiz near the village he had first met Holo; and Marlheit, who had taken care of him during the time he seized back Holo following her abduction.
But none of them struck him as people he could call for whatever this event was, and more of them were of the sort he would be inclined to invite to a proper shop-opening banquet.
"Still..."
With that, Lawrence, in front of his bedroom desk, made a light sigh as he looked over the tablet he had written the names on.
Merely remembering their names showed just how many people he had become involved with.
Furthermore, at each and every one of their towns that he had visited were incidents that became crucial turning points for the course of his life. If a single one of them had been absent from those places, events would surely not have unfolded as they had. Each had played a decisive, irreplaceable role in Lawrence and Holo having slipped out of those predicaments.
From time to time, he had labored under the illusion that he traveled under his own power, or his and that of Holo. However, looking at what he had written, he viscerally realized he had traversed a frighteningly narrow tightrope on the way to becoming the man he now was.
Lawrence prayed once more before the stone tablet, willing his thanks to God that he had met all of them.
And bit by bit, Lawrence's face changed into something pained.
When he opened his eyes, there before him were the names of the people important to him.
"Now, who to invite, huh...?"
There were many who would no doubt gladly respond to an invitation, but they had everyday lives of their own. Furthermore, Nyohhira was practically at the edge of the known world.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was just as she said. As it was humans that had forced their way into the mountains to live there, they of course came under attack by those who had dwelled in the forests and mountains for far longer. Were it not for Holo, he would have to hire people at considerable expense just to drive away beasts.
"Indeed. Ah, now then, you..."
"Hm?"
"What was it? Weren't you going to ask me something?"
Holo looked down at Lawrence with a smiling face as she asked.
But at this stage, Lawrence had no courage left in him to wave about.
"No, it's nothing..."
"Mm? Well, that's how it is. 'Twill be fun, will it not?" Immersing herself up to the shoulders, Holo snuggled against him as she spoke.
Those words—"'Twill be fun...?"—seemed entirely too meaningful. Lawrence soaked himself to his lips, making bubbling sounds as he closed his eyes.
Having been told to take care of the men, he had written letters of invitation to those who had attended the opening of his business and, separately, those he was friends with. Having said that, he had no acquaintances from long before anywhere in Nyohhira; there were not many people who he socialized with outside of business.
Holo had sent a letter to Eve without a shred of restraint, but if all those women did come, he had to gather a certain number of men to keep up appearances.
At any rate, Lawrence wrote to all the people he could think of.
Hilde of the Debau Company, Le Roi the book merchant, the Myuri Mercenary Company led by Luward, Hugues the art dealer, Kieman of the Rowan Trade Guild, Huskins the shepherd, and—though it was a reach—he thought of Mark, who had opened a shop in the same town Diana lived in. While writing to Amati, Lawrence could not help his hand stopping. Among all those who had been taken in by Holo's beauty and charm, no others had the stature to plainly convey those feelings to Holo. By that measure, he had been Lawrence's greatest rival during their journey.
Lawrence made a prayer to God and struck the name from his list.
Stretching his mind to the limits, there was Jakob, the guild hall master of Ruvinheigen; and the money changer Weiz near the village he had first met Holo; and Marlheit, who had taken care of him during the time he seized back Holo following her abduction.
But none of them struck him as people he could call for whatever this event was, and more of them were of the sort he would be inclined to invite to a proper shop-opening banquet.
"Still..."
With that, Lawrence, in front of his bedroom desk, made a light sigh as he looked over the tablet he had written the names on.
Merely remembering their names showed just how many people he had become involved with.
Furthermore, at each and every one of their towns that he had visited were incidents that became crucial turning points for the course of his life. If a single one of them had been absent from those places, events would surely not have unfolded as they had. Each had played a decisive, irreplaceable role in Lawrence and Holo having slipped out of those predicaments.
From time to time, he had labored under the illusion that he traveled under his own power, or his and that of Holo. However, looking at what he had written, he viscerally realized he had traversed a frighteningly narrow tightrope on the way to becoming the man he now was.
Lawrence prayed once more before the stone tablet, willing his thanks to God that he had met all of them.
And bit by bit, Lawrence's face changed into something pained.
When he opened his eyes, there before him were the names of the people important to him.
"Now, who to invite, huh...?"
There were many who would no doubt gladly respond to an invitation, but they had everyday lives of their own. Furthermore, Nyohhira was practically at the edge of the known world.
| That said, there might well be people he was on good terms with who would hold a grudge later if he did not invite them.
In this world, only rumors traveled thousands of miles. When people opened up an establishment, they seemed to invite only their inner circle of friends to the opening banquets. People would ask, "Weren't you invited?" And so forth.
It was a depressing thought.
"If only Holo just went and picked them all up..."
Lawrence muttered to himself as he anguished in front of the tablet.
In the end, after agonizing for two nights straight, he sent a bundle of letters to those who could take three months from their work without particular harm; those who would be enraged at not being invited even should they befall disaster en route; and those, like Huskins and Marlheit, who would surely reply that they would come no matter what.
From there, Lawrence switched from matters of the head to those of the stomach. He did not think Eve would really come, but since Lawrence had invited people, too, he had to put on a banquet to make their head spin, just as Holo had urged.
Fortunately, he had funds he could call on.
His journey with Holo had truly had many ups and downs. It was oddly linked to people that lived in this world that Lawrence would prefer never having to meet again for the rest of his life. A major slave trader had, like a Grim Reaper, told Lawrence to invite him to celebrate the opening of his new establishment. Furthermore, he had said he would be happy to lend Lawrence money anytime he might be in distress. Even in Nyohhira, a place of many people with checkered pasts, there surely were not many people who would accept a letter from that source.
At the Debau Company, not only Hilde, but also Debau himself had met him a number of times to thank him.
They had told him that they would take care of him anytime he wanted to open an establishment, lending as much as he might need. He was truly grateful, but he simply could not leave everything to the Debau Company; he politely declined and borrowed funds from the Rowen Trade Guild via Huskins the great ram. Though Kieman's personal company trading ship had been shipwrecked, making Lawrence think he might bow his head before even the Debau Company to hide his embarrassment, he somehow came through. He apparently viewed owing a favor to the irresistible force that was the Debau Company as a last resort.
Besides, Lawrence himself had assets accumulated in the course of his travels and business dealings.
He was mindful that his coin purse was not as full as it might have been in the past.
As most of it was borrowed money, it did not even seem real.
Under such circumstances, even if the money weighed upon him a bit, he did not really need to be stingy; in particular, since people naturally flocked to the baths for long periods in anticipation of the festival.
Just as Holo had said, if he drew people to the merits of his establishment here, some among the bathers would surely consider his bathhouse the next time they visited.
That was why he had ordered first-rate food and drink, but unfortunately Lawrence possessed little passion for dining himself. No matter how well-informed he was about the price of food, he was ill versed in whether a dish was good or not.
"That being the case, if there's something you want to eat, please say it."
So Lawrence went to Holo to inquire after jotting down basic banquet dishes.
Today, too, she and Hanna were cracking and eating walnuts they had gotten from God only knew where.
"Anything is fine."
She had a serious look in her eyes he had not seen in several days.
In response to Holo's words, Lawrence hardened his resolve and nodded.
"Truly?"
Hanna shifted her gaze to him as he prompted for confirmation. She always said, "It's better to be very certain before you leap."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | That said, there might well be people he was on good terms with who would hold a grudge later if he did not invite them.
In this world, only rumors traveled thousands of miles. When people opened up an establishment, they seemed to invite only their inner circle of friends to the opening banquets. People would ask, "Weren't you invited?" And so forth.
It was a depressing thought.
"If only Holo just went and picked them all up..."
Lawrence muttered to himself as he anguished in front of the tablet.
In the end, after agonizing for two nights straight, he sent a bundle of letters to those who could take three months from their work without particular harm; those who would be enraged at not being invited even should they befall disaster en route; and those, like Huskins and Marlheit, who would surely reply that they would come no matter what.
From there, Lawrence switched from matters of the head to those of the stomach. He did not think Eve would really come, but since Lawrence had invited people, too, he had to put on a banquet to make their head spin, just as Holo had urged.
Fortunately, he had funds he could call on.
His journey with Holo had truly had many ups and downs. It was oddly linked to people that lived in this world that Lawrence would prefer never having to meet again for the rest of his life. A major slave trader had, like a Grim Reaper, told Lawrence to invite him to celebrate the opening of his new establishment. Furthermore, he had said he would be happy to lend Lawrence money anytime he might be in distress. Even in Nyohhira, a place of many people with checkered pasts, there surely were not many people who would accept a letter from that source.
At the Debau Company, not only Hilde, but also Debau himself had met him a number of times to thank him.
They had told him that they would take care of him anytime he wanted to open an establishment, lending as much as he might need. He was truly grateful, but he simply could not leave everything to the Debau Company; he politely declined and borrowed funds from the Rowen Trade Guild via Huskins the great ram. Though Kieman's personal company trading ship had been shipwrecked, making Lawrence think he might bow his head before even the Debau Company to hide his embarrassment, he somehow came through. He apparently viewed owing a favor to the irresistible force that was the Debau Company as a last resort.
Besides, Lawrence himself had assets accumulated in the course of his travels and business dealings.
He was mindful that his coin purse was not as full as it might have been in the past.
As most of it was borrowed money, it did not even seem real.
Under such circumstances, even if the money weighed upon him a bit, he did not really need to be stingy; in particular, since people naturally flocked to the baths for long periods in anticipation of the festival.
Just as Holo had said, if he drew people to the merits of his establishment here, some among the bathers would surely consider his bathhouse the next time they visited.
That was why he had ordered first-rate food and drink, but unfortunately Lawrence possessed little passion for dining himself. No matter how well-informed he was about the price of food, he was ill versed in whether a dish was good or not.
"That being the case, if there's something you want to eat, please say it."
So Lawrence went to Holo to inquire after jotting down basic banquet dishes.
Today, too, she and Hanna were cracking and eating walnuts they had gotten from God only knew where.
"Anything is fine."
She had a serious look in her eyes he had not seen in several days.
In response to Holo's words, Lawrence hardened his resolve and nodded.
"Truly?"
Hanna shifted her gaze to him as he prompted for confirmation. She always said, "It's better to be very certain before you leap."
| Furthermore, Holo's knowledge of food had prospered ridiculously well while traveling with Lawrence.
It was his own fault Holo was able to cajole him into loosening his purse strings, but Lawrence made a single deep breath, nodding.
"Right. Could you write what you want on this?"
And Lawrence brought forth not a tablet, but paper.
If she was to write down the likes of honey-pickled peaches on this, she would have to take back the earlier words she had so carelessly tossed out.
Showing that she would do nothing so underhanded would be, for her, a profound display of resolve.
As if noticing that very thing, Holo looked at the paper and pen Lawrence offered her. She looked up at Lawrence himself with what felt like a bit of a strained smile.
"I am not so much of a fool as that."
Holo spoke as she took the pen and paper from Lawrence's hand.
"After all, if you bite down on your prey till it perishes, you cannot play with it later."
Though that made her a cat toying with a mouse, speaking the joke surely meant she would grant him mercy.
Lawrence was optimistic, but Hanna made a sigh as she spoke.
"Will you still be able to pay my salary, I wonder?"
Her line came as Holo held the paper before her, her tail merrily swishing around.
Though Lawrence thought inside his head that he would regret this, he shook the notion off with a shake of his head.
Hanna looked at Lawrence and made an exasperated-looking smile.
"If things turn desperate, I shall claim my salary in food."
"Sounds like a fine plan."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo shouted, "Ink!" and Hanna rose from her chair to go and get some.
The list contained wine, beer, apple wine, mead, the drink called Kvass made from boiling rye, wine distilled into "fire water," distilled wheat-based liquor called "the water of life," and besides that, even kumis made with fermented mare's milk; God only knew where she had learned of it. There were people and goods that came in from a far eastern nation of steppes and grasslands to Nyohhira via the northlands; she had probably heard of it that way.
The meat was even more incredible. Mutton, lamb, beef, bullock, hare, pork, chicken, domesticated goose, wild goose, and after those entries, she had listed the most expensive of all meats, namely quail, peacock, and so forth.
"Where am I going to buy peacock...?"
A great theologian had supposedly proven that peacock meat did not rot. Even kings sitting on their thrones did not partake of it often; many commoners probably had no idea it even existed.
But beside the entry for peacock was written "if possible," so she probably meant it as a joke.
She had surely been tempted to write that beside the entry for quail as well; that was probably what she was really after.
The fish were comparatively tame: pike, carp, eel, and so forth, all centered on river fish.
Small doubt she wanted these because everything from the sea had to be smoked or salted, and she was entirely sick of eating smoked and salted things during the winter months. Maybe I should mix some herring in and play dumb, he thought mischievously.
And finally, the last was "fish tail." No doubt this was the rodent prepared on the riverbank she had eaten in Lenos. He could order that relatively cheaply.
The next part of the list contained fruit.
"Thanks to the season, this one's relatively easy to do, but..."
Lawrence made a sigh as he looked the list over.
"Where did she learn about oranges and lemons?"
He had heard only rumors that ports to the south traded in them when giant trading ships unloaded their cargo. Apparently they were shipped from somewhere close to the desert, but Lawrence had never seen it firsthand.
Figs, raspberries, huckleberries, currants, peaches, apples, pears—these he could get if they were dried and pickled. The rest of the list was filled by a bunch of shellfish, chestnuts, and miscellaneous types of beans.
At that point, she was probably writing down anything else that came to mind.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Furthermore, Holo's knowledge of food had prospered ridiculously well while traveling with Lawrence.
It was his own fault Holo was able to cajole him into loosening his purse strings, but Lawrence made a single deep breath, nodding.
"Right. Could you write what you want on this?"
And Lawrence brought forth not a tablet, but paper.
If she was to write down the likes of honey-pickled peaches on this, she would have to take back the earlier words she had so carelessly tossed out.
Showing that she would do nothing so underhanded would be, for her, a profound display of resolve.
As if noticing that very thing, Holo looked at the paper and pen Lawrence offered her. She looked up at Lawrence himself with what felt like a bit of a strained smile.
"I am not so much of a fool as that."
Holo spoke as she took the pen and paper from Lawrence's hand.
"After all, if you bite down on your prey till it perishes, you cannot play with it later."
Though that made her a cat toying with a mouse, speaking the joke surely meant she would grant him mercy.
Lawrence was optimistic, but Hanna made a sigh as she spoke.
"Will you still be able to pay my salary, I wonder?"
Her line came as Holo held the paper before her, her tail merrily swishing around.
Though Lawrence thought inside his head that he would regret this, he shook the notion off with a shake of his head.
Hanna looked at Lawrence and made an exasperated-looking smile.
"If things turn desperate, I shall claim my salary in food."
"Sounds like a fine plan."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo shouted, "Ink!" and Hanna rose from her chair to go and get some.
The list contained wine, beer, apple wine, mead, the drink called Kvass made from boiling rye, wine distilled into "fire water," distilled wheat-based liquor called "the water of life," and besides that, even kumis made with fermented mare's milk; God only knew where she had learned of it. There were people and goods that came in from a far eastern nation of steppes and grasslands to Nyohhira via the northlands; she had probably heard of it that way.
The meat was even more incredible. Mutton, lamb, beef, bullock, hare, pork, chicken, domesticated goose, wild goose, and after those entries, she had listed the most expensive of all meats, namely quail, peacock, and so forth.
"Where am I going to buy peacock...?"
A great theologian had supposedly proven that peacock meat did not rot. Even kings sitting on their thrones did not partake of it often; many commoners probably had no idea it even existed.
But beside the entry for peacock was written "if possible," so she probably meant it as a joke.
She had surely been tempted to write that beside the entry for quail as well; that was probably what she was really after.
The fish were comparatively tame: pike, carp, eel, and so forth, all centered on river fish.
Small doubt she wanted these because everything from the sea had to be smoked or salted, and she was entirely sick of eating smoked and salted things during the winter months. Maybe I should mix some herring in and play dumb, he thought mischievously.
And finally, the last was "fish tail." No doubt this was the rodent prepared on the riverbank she had eaten in Lenos. He could order that relatively cheaply.
The next part of the list contained fruit.
"Thanks to the season, this one's relatively easy to do, but..."
Lawrence made a sigh as he looked the list over.
"Where did she learn about oranges and lemons?"
He had heard only rumors that ports to the south traded in them when giant trading ships unloaded their cargo. Apparently they were shipped from somewhere close to the desert, but Lawrence had never seen it firsthand.
Figs, raspberries, huckleberries, currants, peaches, apples, pears—these he could get if they were dried and pickled. The rest of the list was filled by a bunch of shellfish, chestnuts, and miscellaneous types of beans.
At that point, she was probably writing down anything else that came to mind.
| She said, "You can do basically anything if you're cooking meat.
"For example, roast pig."
He added that to the list.
He had seen Holo beg to be able to eat roast pig more than once. Usually she directed her begging for food toward Hanna, but she had begged Lawrence for roast pig, too.
Furthermore, when she went, "You have not forgotten the taste of the roast pig you and I ate back then," he had no real leg to stand on.
He was not going to deny Holo now.
Roast pig here in Nyohhira? Lawrence thought, hanging his head. With salt-pickled meat the foundation of the market, he wondered just how much it would cost.
But having resolved to do it, he would carry it through.
Besides that, if he was going to spend this much on food, he of course needed music.
"Eh? Miss Annie?" When Lawrence called Col over to discuss it with him, Col of course parroted his words back in surprise.
"I mean, it's been so long and it neatly solves that problem..."
She was the musician who had tried to woo Lawrence. However, her skill really was first-rate, and moreover, he was afraid of what would happen if he invited any other.
"So could I have you ask her for me?"
***
Col, who still had a book open that he had borrowed from someone who had come to the baths, made a disagreeable face, but he yielded in the end. The women musicians were always calling out to Col, too.
He had never once wavered in the slightest from his resolve to become a man of the cloth, but this aloofness sent the girls' hearts aflutter all the more. Lawrence said to him that God might overlook a minor indiscretion or two, but Col being Col, his stubbornness turned what other men would consider good fortune into what seemed to be an improbable source of concern.
"Also, what's happening with the craftsmen arrangements?"
During winter, craftsmen looked for work where there was no snow, and when a certain amount of snow did fall, they came north. He wanted to open his establishment in spring so badly because of all the people gathered around.
"Based on the letter I received yesterday, there's nothing else left to do. They'll arrive in a few days' time, so I think we should get ready for them."
"Understood. Besides that, ah yes, we'll need bedding and so on for the guests...Is Eve really going to come? If she really does, we can't be having her sleep on a bed of straw, can we...?"
At home, a merchant of Eve's caliber no doubt slept atop silks filled with cotton on a wood-frame bed sitting atop a stone foundation. Norah could probably handle sleeping on the floor if only she had a blanket, but it was not something he would actually care to propose to her. It was not the way to treat guests invited to a banquet to say the least.
"How about going to Mr. Morris and borrowing some things?"
"Ugh."
Certainly, he was short on guests and so had bedding to spare. That plan was especially attractive.
"I'll think about it..."
"Besides that, how will you pick them up? If it's by carriage, we should make arrangements as early as possible, but we don't really know when they will arrive..."
"Ah! That's right!"
He had forgotten about that. One could use a carriage on the road that continued to Nyohhira, but coming with assumptions from the south would not work very well. For that reason it was better for them to go to a comparatively large town like Svolnel and prepare specifically for the mountains in winter.
If a carriage was not arranged, they would have to hire someone to ship the goods...and walk.
One way or another, he needed to get in touch with them somewhere.
"If we're considering escorts, too, how about we ask Mr. Luward and his men? You're probably inviting them anyway?"
Lawrence was cradling his head when he suddenly lifted his face up.
"We can do that."
"I'll add an attachment to your invitation letter, then. Perhaps we can manage to send a letter to Lenos to Miss Eve and the others? Miss Eve is surely accustomed to traveling, so she'll probably gather information and make preparations there."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | She said, "You can do basically anything if you're cooking meat.
"For example, roast pig."
He added that to the list.
He had seen Holo beg to be able to eat roast pig more than once. Usually she directed her begging for food toward Hanna, but she had begged Lawrence for roast pig, too.
Furthermore, when she went, "You have not forgotten the taste of the roast pig you and I ate back then," he had no real leg to stand on.
He was not going to deny Holo now.
Roast pig here in Nyohhira? Lawrence thought, hanging his head. With salt-pickled meat the foundation of the market, he wondered just how much it would cost.
But having resolved to do it, he would carry it through.
Besides that, if he was going to spend this much on food, he of course needed music.
"Eh? Miss Annie?" When Lawrence called Col over to discuss it with him, Col of course parroted his words back in surprise.
"I mean, it's been so long and it neatly solves that problem..."
She was the musician who had tried to woo Lawrence. However, her skill really was first-rate, and moreover, he was afraid of what would happen if he invited any other.
"So could I have you ask her for me?"
***
Col, who still had a book open that he had borrowed from someone who had come to the baths, made a disagreeable face, but he yielded in the end. The women musicians were always calling out to Col, too.
He had never once wavered in the slightest from his resolve to become a man of the cloth, but this aloofness sent the girls' hearts aflutter all the more. Lawrence said to him that God might overlook a minor indiscretion or two, but Col being Col, his stubbornness turned what other men would consider good fortune into what seemed to be an improbable source of concern.
"Also, what's happening with the craftsmen arrangements?"
During winter, craftsmen looked for work where there was no snow, and when a certain amount of snow did fall, they came north. He wanted to open his establishment in spring so badly because of all the people gathered around.
"Based on the letter I received yesterday, there's nothing else left to do. They'll arrive in a few days' time, so I think we should get ready for them."
"Understood. Besides that, ah yes, we'll need bedding and so on for the guests...Is Eve really going to come? If she really does, we can't be having her sleep on a bed of straw, can we...?"
At home, a merchant of Eve's caliber no doubt slept atop silks filled with cotton on a wood-frame bed sitting atop a stone foundation. Norah could probably handle sleeping on the floor if only she had a blanket, but it was not something he would actually care to propose to her. It was not the way to treat guests invited to a banquet to say the least.
"How about going to Mr. Morris and borrowing some things?"
"Ugh."
Certainly, he was short on guests and so had bedding to spare. That plan was especially attractive.
"I'll think about it..."
"Besides that, how will you pick them up? If it's by carriage, we should make arrangements as early as possible, but we don't really know when they will arrive..."
"Ah! That's right!"
He had forgotten about that. One could use a carriage on the road that continued to Nyohhira, but coming with assumptions from the south would not work very well. For that reason it was better for them to go to a comparatively large town like Svolnel and prepare specifically for the mountains in winter.
If a carriage was not arranged, they would have to hire someone to ship the goods...and walk.
One way or another, he needed to get in touch with them somewhere.
"If we're considering escorts, too, how about we ask Mr. Luward and his men? You're probably inviting them anyway?"
Lawrence was cradling his head when he suddenly lifted his face up.
"We can do that."
"I'll add an attachment to your invitation letter, then. Perhaps we can manage to send a letter to Lenos to Miss Eve and the others? Miss Eve is surely accustomed to traveling, so she'll probably gather information and make preparations there."
| He had already become completely dependent on Col; the boy was less of an apprentice than someone he could not help but think about convincing to stay on in order to keep the business running.
"I'll entrust all those things to you."
"Understood." Col respectfully bowed his head as he spoke.
He would leave the spring banquet in Col's hands; he had to deal with the more immediate issue of the craftsmen.
Having righted his thoughts, Lawrence went down to the central town amid lightly falling snow to make various preparations.
Things instantly got much livelier with the arrival of the craftsmen.
Usually, it was just Lawrence, Holo, Col, and Hanna—four people in a building designed for the lodging of numerous people, making it feel rather empty.
Besides, even though Holo was highly territorial, she was unexpectedly accommodating of guests. When they had settled on going ahead with a bathhouse, she had said with interest, "I do not mind it being lively."
But with winter having crested, with spring seemingly just on the other side of the hills, Holo withdrew from the ruckus they were raising every night.
Out of not feeling well, she spent many daylight hours shut in her own room; she did not seem to have any appetite, either.
She claimed it was from living this deep in the mountains during such a season and being forced to eat mostly dried meat and fish every day. When people spoke of spring sickness, they usually meant colds going around; people recovered right around when vivacious, fresh plants sprung up. Even the council had numerous absences; some people lost a fair bit of weight from loss of appetite. Seeing these things, Lawrence thought it mysterious that no one questioned the effectiveness of the baths, which were said to cure everything. Perhaps spring sickness was in the same category as lovesickness.
For his part, Lawrence had told Hanna to wash as much of the salt off as she could when preparing meals, even at the cost of less taste, but Holo seemed unable to endure that.
She had probably eaten too much along with the lively craftsmen at times, too.
For a while, even when Lawrence brought her gruel, all she seemed to do was take the scent in. In the end, though wheat gruel was no good, rye bread boiled in goat's milk went down fine, so she was currently eating small amounts of that. She was holding up pretty well given that she could not even drink wine.
Even though this was spring sickness, Lawrence was fairly worried at times, but Hanna told him there was no reason for special concern. As she seemed to be well versed in illnesses, Holo evidently trusted Hanna quite extensively; even if she could pull the wool over Lawrence's eyes, she got nowhere with Hanna.
As he nursed Holo and gave instructions to the craftsmen, more and more days passed as he prepared for the spring banquet.
When a little more time passed, around when sunny days began to outnumber days when snow fell, a letter reached Lawrence. It had come to Svolnel, written by Eve's hand. As Col had suggested, he had written a letter and sent it to Lenos, but that seemed to have been in error.
Even so, just as he had surmised, for her to have properly sent a letter ahead of her from Svolnel, she had not lost her knack for travel.
If she came from Svolnel, she would arrive before the festival of St. Alzeuri, but preparations for food and other things would still be steadily under way. That was why Lawrence replied that she would make it just in time if she took it easy on the way up. He also wrote that he was surprised she would really come.
She would probably make a strained smile and say, "I was invited, so why are you so surprised?" but she would no doubt laugh herself silly if he told her the circumstances under which that letter had been sent. Lawrence chuckled to himself as he pictured the scene.
Because she was in a foul mood, Holo, sideways on her seat in front of the fireplace, made a questioning sound and shot him a suspicious look.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He had already become completely dependent on Col; the boy was less of an apprentice than someone he could not help but think about convincing to stay on in order to keep the business running.
"I'll entrust all those things to you."
"Understood." Col respectfully bowed his head as he spoke.
He would leave the spring banquet in Col's hands; he had to deal with the more immediate issue of the craftsmen.
Having righted his thoughts, Lawrence went down to the central town amid lightly falling snow to make various preparations.
Things instantly got much livelier with the arrival of the craftsmen.
Usually, it was just Lawrence, Holo, Col, and Hanna—four people in a building designed for the lodging of numerous people, making it feel rather empty.
Besides, even though Holo was highly territorial, she was unexpectedly accommodating of guests. When they had settled on going ahead with a bathhouse, she had said with interest, "I do not mind it being lively."
But with winter having crested, with spring seemingly just on the other side of the hills, Holo withdrew from the ruckus they were raising every night.
Out of not feeling well, she spent many daylight hours shut in her own room; she did not seem to have any appetite, either.
She claimed it was from living this deep in the mountains during such a season and being forced to eat mostly dried meat and fish every day. When people spoke of spring sickness, they usually meant colds going around; people recovered right around when vivacious, fresh plants sprung up. Even the council had numerous absences; some people lost a fair bit of weight from loss of appetite. Seeing these things, Lawrence thought it mysterious that no one questioned the effectiveness of the baths, which were said to cure everything. Perhaps spring sickness was in the same category as lovesickness.
For his part, Lawrence had told Hanna to wash as much of the salt off as she could when preparing meals, even at the cost of less taste, but Holo seemed unable to endure that.
She had probably eaten too much along with the lively craftsmen at times, too.
For a while, even when Lawrence brought her gruel, all she seemed to do was take the scent in. In the end, though wheat gruel was no good, rye bread boiled in goat's milk went down fine, so she was currently eating small amounts of that. She was holding up pretty well given that she could not even drink wine.
Even though this was spring sickness, Lawrence was fairly worried at times, but Hanna told him there was no reason for special concern. As she seemed to be well versed in illnesses, Holo evidently trusted Hanna quite extensively; even if she could pull the wool over Lawrence's eyes, she got nowhere with Hanna.
As he nursed Holo and gave instructions to the craftsmen, more and more days passed as he prepared for the spring banquet.
When a little more time passed, around when sunny days began to outnumber days when snow fell, a letter reached Lawrence. It had come to Svolnel, written by Eve's hand. As Col had suggested, he had written a letter and sent it to Lenos, but that seemed to have been in error.
Even so, just as he had surmised, for her to have properly sent a letter ahead of her from Svolnel, she had not lost her knack for travel.
If she came from Svolnel, she would arrive before the festival of St. Alzeuri, but preparations for food and other things would still be steadily under way. That was why Lawrence replied that she would make it just in time if she took it easy on the way up. He also wrote that he was surprised she would really come.
She would probably make a strained smile and say, "I was invited, so why are you so surprised?" but she would no doubt laugh herself silly if he told her the circumstances under which that letter had been sent. Lawrence chuckled to himself as he pictured the scene.
Because she was in a foul mood, Holo, sideways on her seat in front of the fireplace, made a questioning sound and shot him a suspicious look.
| Several days prior, he had received letters indicating Weiz and Mark and those with them had safely reached Lenos. They seemed to have sent their letter on the way out, so they had probably reached Svolnel around the same time as Eve.
He felt somewhat odd as he thought about that.
Holo made a halfhearted nod as she sat in her chair, pulling a blanket over her lap. "You supposed poorly," she said curtly.
"And yet, there is still time, is there not? You should focus on recuperating till then."
As Holo spoke, she slowly closed her eyes, moving her chin so vaguely it barely felt like a nod, and turned toward the fireplace.
Even in poor condition, Holo was Holo.
When he was being soft, she always behaved frankly, but gracefully.
After taking the opportunity to show Holo the letter, he gently stroked her head. In the old days, she liked it when he messed with her hair, tousling it, but nowadays she seemed to prefer long, gentle strokes.
As her hair was being leisurely stroked, Holo browsed the contents of the letter. Though she had difficulty with writing even now, reading was no problem at all. There had been times when Lawrence's concern over Holo's lies that she could not read a single word had backfired. Perhaps Holo was remembering back to that time when, as she finished reading Eve's letter, she sniffed the letter's scent and made a small giggle.
"She is fairly angry about something, it would seem."
"Oh, aye?" Holo made a typical small smile as she returned the letter to Lawrence. "Eve's angry, is she?"
As Lawrence asked her back, Holo shifted her gaze to the side and closed her eyes.
It was as if she was saying, "The fool still understands nothing." She chuckled.
But Holo's good mood frightened Lawrence in a different sense.
Holo sank back into the chair, eyes closed. In that pose, with the tip of her tail gently swaying, it was as if she was having a pleasant dream.
"More importantly, how are things going with the business?"
For Holo to switch to that topic herself meant she wanted to dance around the other.
She was definitely hiding something, but with her worn down like this, he prudently followed her lead. On their journey, too, arguments broke out most easily when she was feeling off stride.
"It's getting there. I'd say the skeleton's all finished and eight-tenths of the meat is on, too. We should be getting the fine decorations and fixtures bit by bit as the snow clears."
"Indeed. A pity I cannot watch the work in progress."
Certainly there was pleasure in watching wood and stone put together as a building was being built. But only the passive observer had it easy; owners had no small amount of things to worry over.
"Go one step at a time. Sometimes your eyes see what is far off with surprising accuracy, but you also miss things right under your nose. 'Tis not so?"
***
He thought it was like she was lecturing a child, but when she asked again, "'Tis not so?" he answered, "That's right."
"Aye."
Holo made a satisfied nod and then added, "But."
"And yet your penchant for overlooking what is at your feet has led to your picking up some unexpectedly joyful things, yes?"
"Huh?"
At Lawrence's reply, Holo made a light smile and waved dismissively with her hand. "It's nothing," she seemed to say. "More importantly, you, what's happening with that?"
As Holo spoke, she opened her eyes, strength having returned to them at some point.
With the look she gave him, even Lawrence could not mistake what she meant by that.
"That, is it?"
"Aye. Will it be in time?"
The serious face Holo was making greatly resembled a look of concern, no doubt because her eyes were wide and her face was displaying a fair bit of emotion. Incidentally, it was her mouth that stood out when she smiled. It was truly lovely how she opened her mouth ridiculously wide to guffaw when she seemed to be really having fun.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Several days prior, he had received letters indicating Weiz and Mark and those with them had safely reached Lenos. They seemed to have sent their letter on the way out, so they had probably reached Svolnel around the same time as Eve.
He felt somewhat odd as he thought about that.
Holo made a halfhearted nod as she sat in her chair, pulling a blanket over her lap. "You supposed poorly," she said curtly.
"And yet, there is still time, is there not? You should focus on recuperating till then."
As Holo spoke, she slowly closed her eyes, moving her chin so vaguely it barely felt like a nod, and turned toward the fireplace.
Even in poor condition, Holo was Holo.
When he was being soft, she always behaved frankly, but gracefully.
After taking the opportunity to show Holo the letter, he gently stroked her head. In the old days, she liked it when he messed with her hair, tousling it, but nowadays she seemed to prefer long, gentle strokes.
As her hair was being leisurely stroked, Holo browsed the contents of the letter. Though she had difficulty with writing even now, reading was no problem at all. There had been times when Lawrence's concern over Holo's lies that she could not read a single word had backfired. Perhaps Holo was remembering back to that time when, as she finished reading Eve's letter, she sniffed the letter's scent and made a small giggle.
"She is fairly angry about something, it would seem."
"Oh, aye?" Holo made a typical small smile as she returned the letter to Lawrence. "Eve's angry, is she?"
As Lawrence asked her back, Holo shifted her gaze to the side and closed her eyes.
It was as if she was saying, "The fool still understands nothing." She chuckled.
But Holo's good mood frightened Lawrence in a different sense.
Holo sank back into the chair, eyes closed. In that pose, with the tip of her tail gently swaying, it was as if she was having a pleasant dream.
"More importantly, how are things going with the business?"
For Holo to switch to that topic herself meant she wanted to dance around the other.
She was definitely hiding something, but with her worn down like this, he prudently followed her lead. On their journey, too, arguments broke out most easily when she was feeling off stride.
"It's getting there. I'd say the skeleton's all finished and eight-tenths of the meat is on, too. We should be getting the fine decorations and fixtures bit by bit as the snow clears."
"Indeed. A pity I cannot watch the work in progress."
Certainly there was pleasure in watching wood and stone put together as a building was being built. But only the passive observer had it easy; owners had no small amount of things to worry over.
"Go one step at a time. Sometimes your eyes see what is far off with surprising accuracy, but you also miss things right under your nose. 'Tis not so?"
***
He thought it was like she was lecturing a child, but when she asked again, "'Tis not so?" he answered, "That's right."
"Aye."
Holo made a satisfied nod and then added, "But."
"And yet your penchant for overlooking what is at your feet has led to your picking up some unexpectedly joyful things, yes?"
"Huh?"
At Lawrence's reply, Holo made a light smile and waved dismissively with her hand. "It's nothing," she seemed to say. "More importantly, you, what's happening with that?"
As Holo spoke, she opened her eyes, strength having returned to them at some point.
With the look she gave him, even Lawrence could not mistake what she meant by that.
"That, is it?"
"Aye. Will it be in time?"
The serious face Holo was making greatly resembled a look of concern, no doubt because her eyes were wide and her face was displaying a fair bit of emotion. Incidentally, it was her mouth that stood out when she smiled. It was truly lovely how she opened her mouth ridiculously wide to guffaw when she seemed to be really having fun.
| Without thinking, Lawrence embraced Holo's cheeks with his palms, stroking her, forgetting that Holo had "trained" him to do so only a short time before.
"I'm confident the appraisal and supply of the goods will be worthy of a top-rank merchant."
Holo closed one eye with a slightly dejected look while he stroked her neck like he would a puppy's.
Perhaps she thought her wisewolf wisdom might be affected depending on how much her cheeks were stroked and her tail swished.
"But those appraisals have gotten us into trouble more than once."
"It's like a stone wall. We wouldn't be here if it was any other way," Lawrence casually replied to Holo's abusive manner of speaking.
Holo made an exceedingly distasteful face as she stuck her tongue out, making a sigh.
"Are you not the type to keep breaking stone walls?"
"If you didn't like it, you should've gotten out of the bath." He spoke while pinching her cheeks.
They were words he would have been far too scared to speak in the middle of his journey with Holo. Nowadays, he did not worry at all that if they had a big argument on one day, Holo might be gone the next.
Holo trained her red-amber eyes on Lawrence, staring.
Many times over, water had been spilled and flames fanned from such a point onward.
Even so, ever since he had met Holo in that far-off village, Lawrence was proud that what Holo stared at the most was him.
As he confidently looked back at Holo, her ears finally wilted, her tail seeming to curl as she wrapped it around her own feet.
Among beasts, the first to look away lost.
Holo pouted her lips as she spoke.
"Once soaked, I cannot get out of the bath without getting cold." With that, she looked at Lawrence once more. "Thus, I should just soak in the water, at least till spring comes and it becomes warm outside."
Holo had been obstinate about not going to Yoitsu because she could guess well enough what had become of it.
According to a book she had seen in the church Elsa administered, Yoitsu's wolves had been attacked and scattered to the winds by the Moon-Hunting Bear. Furthermore, in spite of having traveled around so much, they had never met anyone purporting to be one of Holo's comrades, nor had they even heard of one doing so.
If they went and saw, it would become the truth.
But if they did not go and see, they still would not be sure.
This age was not the age of the people of mountains and forests that Holo and her comrades knew.
In this age, which to them was a long, bitter winter, they were compelled to live quietly and in secret.
Lawrence could not remain married to Holo for centuries. He would almost certainly die before she did.
Holo was well aware of that. It was as if she was deciding what she should do afterward.
That being the case, Lawrence could not call staying soaking in the bath until the water ran out the right thing to do.
He should build stone walls to protect the bath and arrange good food, good wine, and the playing of musical instruments.
A merchant found joy in bringing joy to others through their wares. They risked everything for the sake of hearing at the end, "Ahh, that was delightful."
Then Holo spoke. "But I feel as if I have been soaking just a trifle too much of late."
Lawrence wanted to explain in detail just how much he did every single day for her sake.
But it was a princess like this that could bring cheer to a merchant with a single word.
"My apologies."
As Lawrence spoke, he embraced Holo from the side as she sat in her chair.
Inside Lawrence's arms, Holo took a very deep breath.
Perhaps she thought of Lawrence as the finest of food, but if so, he did not mind. On this occasion, if it was a choice between a sacrament granted by a priest he barely knew or having Holo season him with the finest oils mixed with the finest salts, he would rather Holo do it from head to toe.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Without thinking, Lawrence embraced Holo's cheeks with his palms, stroking her, forgetting that Holo had "trained" him to do so only a short time before.
"I'm confident the appraisal and supply of the goods will be worthy of a top-rank merchant."
Holo closed one eye with a slightly dejected look while he stroked her neck like he would a puppy's.
Perhaps she thought her wisewolf wisdom might be affected depending on how much her cheeks were stroked and her tail swished.
"But those appraisals have gotten us into trouble more than once."
"It's like a stone wall. We wouldn't be here if it was any other way," Lawrence casually replied to Holo's abusive manner of speaking.
Holo made an exceedingly distasteful face as she stuck her tongue out, making a sigh.
"Are you not the type to keep breaking stone walls?"
"If you didn't like it, you should've gotten out of the bath." He spoke while pinching her cheeks.
They were words he would have been far too scared to speak in the middle of his journey with Holo. Nowadays, he did not worry at all that if they had a big argument on one day, Holo might be gone the next.
Holo trained her red-amber eyes on Lawrence, staring.
Many times over, water had been spilled and flames fanned from such a point onward.
Even so, ever since he had met Holo in that far-off village, Lawrence was proud that what Holo stared at the most was him.
As he confidently looked back at Holo, her ears finally wilted, her tail seeming to curl as she wrapped it around her own feet.
Among beasts, the first to look away lost.
Holo pouted her lips as she spoke.
"Once soaked, I cannot get out of the bath without getting cold." With that, she looked at Lawrence once more. "Thus, I should just soak in the water, at least till spring comes and it becomes warm outside."
Holo had been obstinate about not going to Yoitsu because she could guess well enough what had become of it.
According to a book she had seen in the church Elsa administered, Yoitsu's wolves had been attacked and scattered to the winds by the Moon-Hunting Bear. Furthermore, in spite of having traveled around so much, they had never met anyone purporting to be one of Holo's comrades, nor had they even heard of one doing so.
If they went and saw, it would become the truth.
But if they did not go and see, they still would not be sure.
This age was not the age of the people of mountains and forests that Holo and her comrades knew.
In this age, which to them was a long, bitter winter, they were compelled to live quietly and in secret.
Lawrence could not remain married to Holo for centuries. He would almost certainly die before she did.
Holo was well aware of that. It was as if she was deciding what she should do afterward.
That being the case, Lawrence could not call staying soaking in the bath until the water ran out the right thing to do.
He should build stone walls to protect the bath and arrange good food, good wine, and the playing of musical instruments.
A merchant found joy in bringing joy to others through their wares. They risked everything for the sake of hearing at the end, "Ahh, that was delightful."
Then Holo spoke. "But I feel as if I have been soaking just a trifle too much of late."
Lawrence wanted to explain in detail just how much he did every single day for her sake.
But it was a princess like this that could bring cheer to a merchant with a single word.
"My apologies."
As Lawrence spoke, he embraced Holo from the side as she sat in her chair.
Inside Lawrence's arms, Holo took a very deep breath.
Perhaps she thought of Lawrence as the finest of food, but if so, he did not mind. On this occasion, if it was a choice between a sacrament granted by a priest he barely knew or having Holo season him with the finest oils mixed with the finest salts, he would rather Holo do it from head to toe.
| "So, about that..."
On a cold morning like this, Holo would seriously obstruct Lawrence if he was trying to get her out of bed, but here, she listened as Lawrence spoke those words, a somewhat absentminded look still on her face.
"Aye...?"
"Want a preview? I was thinking that the banquet wouldn't be a bad place for its debut."
The item in question had been made in Svolnel and was on its way to Nyohhira at that very moment.
For a while, Holo drifted off, thinking about it, she seemed to use Lawrence's chest to wipe her face once, exhaling before speaking curtly. "Indeed. I mind not."
Lawrence drew his chin in a bit, as this was a terribly blunt way to say it. Between the two of them, was that really such a light thing? And such.
But taking no heed, Holo closed her eyes and yawned.
"Now that I'm warm, I've become sleepy."
This was Wisewolf Holo, quirks and all.
Beside himself, Lawrence thought, It certainly figures, as Holo made a slight twist of her body and thrust her arms out.
"Mm? What is it?"
"Pick me up."
She said it without the slightest shred of embarrassment.
As it was the nature of a merchant to respond to requests, even this one, he could not help himself.
Lawrence cradled Holo and picked her up. He thought, with a somewhat strange feeling, the day would come when he would no longer be able to carry her like this.
Holo would remain young as he became old.
Until now, Lawrence had thought only of Holo, who would be the one left behind alone, but he had spared little thought for himself.
At the moment, he still had little grasp of the meaning of getting old. His body was in good health; if he hardened his body a bit, he thought he would be able to become a traveling merchant again. But at some point his body would decline, becoming decrepit with age, and Holo would start looking like his own granddaughter.
Perhaps when that time came, he would curse his own helplessness, or perhaps lament how pathetic he had become, for in the past he had been able to cradle and lift up Holo.
From that perspective, these daily trivialities, that would repeat themselves for who knew how long, constituted precious moments he ought to value far more than gold.
It was as if her abusive language was a distraction to keep that fact from weighing upon Lawrence's heart.
"Aren't you bringing your wolfishness to tears?"
Holo turned her body around in Lawrence's arms, her eyes narrowed, apparently in good spirits as she replied, "If I cry, will you console me?"
Within his arms, Holo's big ears twitched, her tail swaying happily.
This was happiness...almost too much happiness to bear.
Therefore, all they could do was enjoy it—for they could neither stop the flow of time, nor reverse it.
Lawrence kissed the base of Holo's closer ear, carefully putting her to bed.
Being a narrow town, streets were few.
Even without inspectors to ask what your cargo was and where it was going, those things were quite clear to all. As a result, rumors that Lawrence was holding a banquet for close acquaintances to celebrate the opening of his business had long circulated around town.
It had even been made known that he had what were clearly odd connections for a mere traveling merchant. This being the case, he would have all eyes on him whether he wanted it or not, but Lawrence did not grow timid whatsoever.
For the banquet he was preparing would be very fine indeed.
"What are you doing?" Holo called out to Lawrence while he looked over the hall of the main building that he had decorated.
These last several days her condition had improved as she had eaten more, perhaps because she had made clearer what she wished to eat and what she did not.
"I was just thinking, look at how far I've come."
He said it as a light joke, but Holo made a rude laugh beside him.
"Is that a voice of mourning I hear?"
***
He looked down beside him at Holo and sighed.
"Only because you made me show off."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "So, about that..."
On a cold morning like this, Holo would seriously obstruct Lawrence if he was trying to get her out of bed, but here, she listened as Lawrence spoke those words, a somewhat absentminded look still on her face.
"Aye...?"
"Want a preview? I was thinking that the banquet wouldn't be a bad place for its debut."
The item in question had been made in Svolnel and was on its way to Nyohhira at that very moment.
For a while, Holo drifted off, thinking about it, she seemed to use Lawrence's chest to wipe her face once, exhaling before speaking curtly. "Indeed. I mind not."
Lawrence drew his chin in a bit, as this was a terribly blunt way to say it. Between the two of them, was that really such a light thing? And such.
But taking no heed, Holo closed her eyes and yawned.
"Now that I'm warm, I've become sleepy."
This was Wisewolf Holo, quirks and all.
Beside himself, Lawrence thought, It certainly figures, as Holo made a slight twist of her body and thrust her arms out.
"Mm? What is it?"
"Pick me up."
She said it without the slightest shred of embarrassment.
As it was the nature of a merchant to respond to requests, even this one, he could not help himself.
Lawrence cradled Holo and picked her up. He thought, with a somewhat strange feeling, the day would come when he would no longer be able to carry her like this.
Holo would remain young as he became old.
Until now, Lawrence had thought only of Holo, who would be the one left behind alone, but he had spared little thought for himself.
At the moment, he still had little grasp of the meaning of getting old. His body was in good health; if he hardened his body a bit, he thought he would be able to become a traveling merchant again. But at some point his body would decline, becoming decrepit with age, and Holo would start looking like his own granddaughter.
Perhaps when that time came, he would curse his own helplessness, or perhaps lament how pathetic he had become, for in the past he had been able to cradle and lift up Holo.
From that perspective, these daily trivialities, that would repeat themselves for who knew how long, constituted precious moments he ought to value far more than gold.
It was as if her abusive language was a distraction to keep that fact from weighing upon Lawrence's heart.
"Aren't you bringing your wolfishness to tears?"
Holo turned her body around in Lawrence's arms, her eyes narrowed, apparently in good spirits as she replied, "If I cry, will you console me?"
Within his arms, Holo's big ears twitched, her tail swaying happily.
This was happiness...almost too much happiness to bear.
Therefore, all they could do was enjoy it—for they could neither stop the flow of time, nor reverse it.
Lawrence kissed the base of Holo's closer ear, carefully putting her to bed.
Being a narrow town, streets were few.
Even without inspectors to ask what your cargo was and where it was going, those things were quite clear to all. As a result, rumors that Lawrence was holding a banquet for close acquaintances to celebrate the opening of his business had long circulated around town.
It had even been made known that he had what were clearly odd connections for a mere traveling merchant. This being the case, he would have all eyes on him whether he wanted it or not, but Lawrence did not grow timid whatsoever.
For the banquet he was preparing would be very fine indeed.
"What are you doing?" Holo called out to Lawrence while he looked over the hall of the main building that he had decorated.
These last several days her condition had improved as she had eaten more, perhaps because she had made clearer what she wished to eat and what she did not.
"I was just thinking, look at how far I've come."
He said it as a light joke, but Holo made a rude laugh beside him.
"Is that a voice of mourning I hear?"
***
He looked down beside him at Holo and sighed.
"Only because you made me show off."
| "Your own business, something you've gained and lost before."
Not only once, but also twice.
There was a time when Holo had shouted at him, "Are you giving up on your dream?" That was when Holo herself had become the merchandise, about to be sold off.
For a while, Holo kept Lawrence company like that, gazing at the hall with him.
There was white fabric all over the reception table, the chairs, and the walls, making them ready to greet human beings of even the highest rank. Even if the utensils and trays were not silver, he had been able to put together a full set of brass. Swindlers deceived people into thinking fool's gold was the real thing, but the dull, golden twinkle of brass held the indecency of gold in check, giving off what Lawrence thought to be a rather pleasant glint.
Even though he had thought it would be difficult preparing flowers in the present season, Hanna had somehow gotten her hands on plenty of early blooming ones that he had used to decorate.
Even if the hall was deserted now, it would no doubt be full of people and laughter soon enough.
It seemed that, in the end, everyone they had invited had come and would arrive without incident.
With his fingers, he counted thirteen years since he had set out on his own as a merchant. Finally, he had an establishment to call his own.
"It would have been nice if your master could have seen this, too," Holo chimed in, apparently noticing him counting with his fingers.
Lawrence made a pained smile and shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, he was an eccentric man. He'd probably complain about all sorts of things."
"Do you want to go find him?"
It was Holo who spoke such words—Holo, who would have either yelled in anger or cried if he had shown the slightest sign of wanting to travel.
The horse that had seen Lawrence through so many trials had become an obstinate horse that only carried Col's things because Holo had strictly commanded it to do so.
Even so, Lawrence put his hand on Holo's head, drawing near, and said, "Why would I?"
Holo turned her head, looking up at him.
He had not spoken much of his master, even to Holo.
"All I have to do is have a business so big he'll have to take notice, after all."
***
Holo's large ears twitched as she discerned the meaning of his words, reading Lawrence's sentiment with her large eyes.
But, Lawrence thought to himself, he was confident she would not find what she sought within his heart, for he did not understand it himself.
No, he thought. It was probably the same way she thought about Yoitsu.
Lawrence and his master passed through a treacherous mountain trail, reaching a town inn at the ends of their endurance. Just before Lawrence fell asleep, his master told him, "I'm heading out for a bit," and left without any proper luggage.
No one had seen him since.
Lawrence had heard he had debts and a woman he loved. He probably thought Lawrence would just slow him down.
But his master had left him all of his charters and most of his cash on hand.
He was a man of many mysteries, so he probably ended up as a monk or recluse or something.
At the very least, that is what Lawrence thought, for it dispensed with all concerns.
"Before that, I need an establishment no one's going to laugh at."
"They shall not laugh." Holo seemed peeved as she spoke, unclasping her hands from behind her back and folding her arms in front of her chest. "They absolutely shall not laugh."
"That might be a problem in itself."
As Lawrence pinched her cheek, she seemed annoyed as she turned her face aside.
"But even these things can happen if you live long enough." His murmur was deep in emotion.
A mere traveling merchant.
A traveling merchant who thought great profits were as distant as the moon floating in the sky.
His being in that place and time seemed very much like a reflection of that moon floating on the water.
"'Tis all thanks to me."
Holo said it without an ounce of shame.
With Holo like that, Lawrence took her hand, speaking to her as if she was a princess.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Your own business, something you've gained and lost before."
Not only once, but also twice.
There was a time when Holo had shouted at him, "Are you giving up on your dream?" That was when Holo herself had become the merchandise, about to be sold off.
For a while, Holo kept Lawrence company like that, gazing at the hall with him.
There was white fabric all over the reception table, the chairs, and the walls, making them ready to greet human beings of even the highest rank. Even if the utensils and trays were not silver, he had been able to put together a full set of brass. Swindlers deceived people into thinking fool's gold was the real thing, but the dull, golden twinkle of brass held the indecency of gold in check, giving off what Lawrence thought to be a rather pleasant glint.
Even though he had thought it would be difficult preparing flowers in the present season, Hanna had somehow gotten her hands on plenty of early blooming ones that he had used to decorate.
Even if the hall was deserted now, it would no doubt be full of people and laughter soon enough.
It seemed that, in the end, everyone they had invited had come and would arrive without incident.
With his fingers, he counted thirteen years since he had set out on his own as a merchant. Finally, he had an establishment to call his own.
"It would have been nice if your master could have seen this, too," Holo chimed in, apparently noticing him counting with his fingers.
Lawrence made a pained smile and shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, he was an eccentric man. He'd probably complain about all sorts of things."
"Do you want to go find him?"
It was Holo who spoke such words—Holo, who would have either yelled in anger or cried if he had shown the slightest sign of wanting to travel.
The horse that had seen Lawrence through so many trials had become an obstinate horse that only carried Col's things because Holo had strictly commanded it to do so.
Even so, Lawrence put his hand on Holo's head, drawing near, and said, "Why would I?"
Holo turned her head, looking up at him.
He had not spoken much of his master, even to Holo.
"All I have to do is have a business so big he'll have to take notice, after all."
***
Holo's large ears twitched as she discerned the meaning of his words, reading Lawrence's sentiment with her large eyes.
But, Lawrence thought to himself, he was confident she would not find what she sought within his heart, for he did not understand it himself.
No, he thought. It was probably the same way she thought about Yoitsu.
Lawrence and his master passed through a treacherous mountain trail, reaching a town inn at the ends of their endurance. Just before Lawrence fell asleep, his master told him, "I'm heading out for a bit," and left without any proper luggage.
No one had seen him since.
Lawrence had heard he had debts and a woman he loved. He probably thought Lawrence would just slow him down.
But his master had left him all of his charters and most of his cash on hand.
He was a man of many mysteries, so he probably ended up as a monk or recluse or something.
At the very least, that is what Lawrence thought, for it dispensed with all concerns.
"Before that, I need an establishment no one's going to laugh at."
"They shall not laugh." Holo seemed peeved as she spoke, unclasping her hands from behind her back and folding her arms in front of her chest. "They absolutely shall not laugh."
"That might be a problem in itself."
As Lawrence pinched her cheek, she seemed annoyed as she turned her face aside.
"But even these things can happen if you live long enough." His murmur was deep in emotion.
A mere traveling merchant.
A traveling merchant who thought great profits were as distant as the moon floating in the sky.
His being in that place and time seemed very much like a reflection of that moon floating on the water.
"'Tis all thanks to me."
Holo said it without an ounce of shame.
With Holo like that, Lawrence took her hand, speaking to her as if she was a princess.
| "But 'tis thanks to you that I am so happy now, too."
Holo said that with even less shame.
She said it with a determined look, a chuckle, and a smile.
As Lawrence shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I won't deny that either, you know," Holo's tail swished around as she cackled.
Just as she was doing that, Col opened the door and entered.
Because 'twas the occasion of a banquet, he wore not his usual worn-out clothing, but a seminary student robe Hanna had tailored for him. His hair being fastened and held up by a red ribbon was no doubt the result of teasing by the musicians and dancing girls.
"Everyone is here!"
He was out of breath, possibly from running all the way over from the center of town.
Lawrence and Holo's faces met, and both nodding at the same time, they walked forward.
As they went outside, it was surprisingly fine weather, even by the standards of the last few days, enough to make someone wearing thick clothing sweat.
"Because the sky has been nothing but clouds, 'tis making my eyes blink."
"Are you all right?"
"I just wanted you to know if there are tears in my eyes 'tis not my doing."
As Holo spoke those words, she stomped on Lawrence's foot.
"I hadn't noticed."
"Fool."
As Col opened the door, he looked to and fro in front of the establishment and finally made a pained smile.
Col called out to him just so. "Ah, right. Mr. Lawrence..."
"Mm?"
"Mr. Luward and the others should be bringing it up right about now, but where shall you present it? At the start of the banquet? Or here, perhaps?" Col spoke as he made ready a stepladder and mallet below the building's eaves.
The front of the bathhouse served as a fine front entrance, but it was still incomplete, and there was a reason for that.
Lawrence thought a bit before replying.
"Here's good. That's what it's for to begin with."
"I suppose so. Best to use it as a nice opening ceremony, then."
Col moved with a bounce in his step. To be frank, Lawrence had not paid much heed to the tiny details because Col had taken care of them all beforehand.
"You've come to rely on him quite a lot."
"Jealous?"
As he asked, Holo leered, showing her fangs. "As if I could lose to a little brat like that."
It was a wolfish face she did not show very often, one not so much frightening as bewitching.
"Well, you have become a fair bit more plump of late."
As Lawrence spoke in jest, Holo stomped his foot with all her might.
He suffered in silent agony as Holo coldly declared, "Fool."
"Ah, Mr. Luward and the others are coming! Er, did something happen?"
As Col glanced between them, Holo made a grinning smile as Lawrence suffered without a word, something that happened rather often. Col made an exasperated smile and went to welcome Luward and the others.
"But I wonder how it'll feel in the end?"
She spoke in such a sunny voice that it was as if what had just occurred had never existed.
Though it would do Lawrence no good to speak of the fact, he was in awe at the speed of the change.
"It'll feel simple. Simple is best, after all."
She replied, "Indeed," and nodded.
Lawrence had conveyed his broad desires to Hugues the art merchant, and from the drawings Hugues had come up with, he had selected the simplest of them.
From there, the drawing had been shipped to Svolnel, entrusted to the hands of Jean Millike, the man who ran it. Lawrence had wanted to entrust someone else, but Holo had stubbornly insisted.
In the end, Millike did accept; he also sent an exceptionally curt letter that simply said: "Invite me when you hold the celebration."
No doubt Millike, child of man and spirit, who even now held sway over that town to protect the burial site of his beloved wife, who had departed long before him, had a thought or two in regards to Holo.
Nonetheless, the two did apparently have a few things in common. From time to time, Holo would send off some alcohol to him and he would send some to her, back and forth.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "But 'tis thanks to you that I am so happy now, too."
Holo said that with even less shame.
She said it with a determined look, a chuckle, and a smile.
As Lawrence shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I won't deny that either, you know," Holo's tail swished around as she cackled.
Just as she was doing that, Col opened the door and entered.
Because 'twas the occasion of a banquet, he wore not his usual worn-out clothing, but a seminary student robe Hanna had tailored for him. His hair being fastened and held up by a red ribbon was no doubt the result of teasing by the musicians and dancing girls.
"Everyone is here!"
He was out of breath, possibly from running all the way over from the center of town.
Lawrence and Holo's faces met, and both nodding at the same time, they walked forward.
As they went outside, it was surprisingly fine weather, even by the standards of the last few days, enough to make someone wearing thick clothing sweat.
"Because the sky has been nothing but clouds, 'tis making my eyes blink."
"Are you all right?"
"I just wanted you to know if there are tears in my eyes 'tis not my doing."
As Holo spoke those words, she stomped on Lawrence's foot.
"I hadn't noticed."
"Fool."
As Col opened the door, he looked to and fro in front of the establishment and finally made a pained smile.
Col called out to him just so. "Ah, right. Mr. Lawrence..."
"Mm?"
"Mr. Luward and the others should be bringing it up right about now, but where shall you present it? At the start of the banquet? Or here, perhaps?" Col spoke as he made ready a stepladder and mallet below the building's eaves.
The front of the bathhouse served as a fine front entrance, but it was still incomplete, and there was a reason for that.
Lawrence thought a bit before replying.
"Here's good. That's what it's for to begin with."
"I suppose so. Best to use it as a nice opening ceremony, then."
Col moved with a bounce in his step. To be frank, Lawrence had not paid much heed to the tiny details because Col had taken care of them all beforehand.
"You've come to rely on him quite a lot."
"Jealous?"
As he asked, Holo leered, showing her fangs. "As if I could lose to a little brat like that."
It was a wolfish face she did not show very often, one not so much frightening as bewitching.
"Well, you have become a fair bit more plump of late."
As Lawrence spoke in jest, Holo stomped his foot with all her might.
He suffered in silent agony as Holo coldly declared, "Fool."
"Ah, Mr. Luward and the others are coming! Er, did something happen?"
As Col glanced between them, Holo made a grinning smile as Lawrence suffered without a word, something that happened rather often. Col made an exasperated smile and went to welcome Luward and the others.
"But I wonder how it'll feel in the end?"
She spoke in such a sunny voice that it was as if what had just occurred had never existed.
Though it would do Lawrence no good to speak of the fact, he was in awe at the speed of the change.
"It'll feel simple. Simple is best, after all."
She replied, "Indeed," and nodded.
Lawrence had conveyed his broad desires to Hugues the art merchant, and from the drawings Hugues had come up with, he had selected the simplest of them.
From there, the drawing had been shipped to Svolnel, entrusted to the hands of Jean Millike, the man who ran it. Lawrence had wanted to entrust someone else, but Holo had stubbornly insisted.
In the end, Millike did accept; he also sent an exceptionally curt letter that simply said: "Invite me when you hold the celebration."
No doubt Millike, child of man and spirit, who even now held sway over that town to protect the burial site of his beloved wife, who had departed long before him, had a thought or two in regards to Holo.
Nonetheless, the two did apparently have a few things in common. From time to time, Holo would send off some alcohol to him and he would send some to her, back and forth.
| It was the same furnace where the first gold coins bearing the Debau Company's symbol of the sun were minted, and the day that furnace was lit was the day Lawrence and Holo had sworn to go as far as they might together.
No doubt a first-rate craftsman had been hired to do the work.
As neither Lawrence nor Holo had wanted to look at it before it was complete, they had no idea what the final product looked like at all.
So the sign that would hang over the bathhouse's front entrance would truly be revealed for the first time this day.
"Mr. Lawrence! Miss Holo!"
Moizi raised his voice first, his great frame and vigor undiminished by the years.
Luward Myuri was a tad taller and his physique quite a bit sterner after six years, perhaps looking so radiant because of the backdrop, but to Lawrence's eyes, he looked like he was at pains to drag a smile onto his face.
"It's been a while."
Luward spoke calmly and put out his hand.
Lawrence gripped his hand, shaking it vigorously.
And then, Luward knelt before Holo on one knee, suddenly coming to a halt.
This was no doubt his display of the highest respect to Holo, comrade of Myuri, the symbol of their banner and the wolf of Yoitsu from whom he had inherited his name as captain of a mercenary company of people of Yoitsu.
But Holo did not like this kind of thing.
Luward, still halted on one knee, respectfully took Holo's hand and put his lips to the back of it.
"A fine male you have become."
"Thank you very much."
The Myuri family line had passed a message down for Holo's sake.
No doubt Holo was grateful beyond words; no doubt Luward, current head of the house, could not be more proud.
"But you have become even more beautiful. Truly, among women, you are—"
Right around there, Holo put her index finger to Luward's lips.
***
"Kufu."
Holo smiled and tilted her head slightly, her gaze shifting from Luward's questioning look to the horse-drawn wagon behind him.
"The luggage is over there?"
"Ah yes. Hey!"
With that, Luward completely regained his captain's demeanor. No doubt the men who had followed Luward in his father's stead no longer called him "Young One."
"I was more worried about this than any other cargo escort job we've ever had."
The scars on his face had increased, making his smile feel more striking.
No doubt he would slip past death many times more as the years would pass, growing into a mercenary sharper and more forceful than even Moizi.
"Should we put it up right now?"
"No, we'll do it once people come, right?"
Holo's words were directed toward Lawrence.
"I think that's best. They've come all this way."
"Understood. Moizi and I have it here, so go ahead and unveil it."
It was a large, round metallic sign that a single adult could just barely get his arms around.
Some people simply had the name of their establishment for the design on their signs; others used symbols that carried some kind of drama or that simply stood out.
Lawrence had put the name of his establishment on the sign.
"It came out nicely?"
As Lawrence asked, Luward carried it over together with Moizi with ease, making a leer as he spoke.
"It made me tremble."
"Can we use that line as a testimonial?"
Luward first made an easygoing laugh at Lawrence's words. "How about ''Tis the finest bathhouse of the age, where even the hardy Myuri Mercenary Company feels at home'?"
"Oh, everyone has arrived!"
Lawrence suddenly grew tense at Moizi's words.
He could see a group coming from a grove of trees toward the top of the hill.
Eve was first, followed by Norah and Elsa and more. There seemed to indeed be five people.
In the end, he would still never understand Holo's true intent.
But beside him, Holo was in an exuberant mood; it seemed that Holo really had not brought this about because he had made her angry.
If that was so, what in the world was this?
No, best not to question, Lawrence decided.
Either way, there was no more felicitous day than this.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was the same furnace where the first gold coins bearing the Debau Company's symbol of the sun were minted, and the day that furnace was lit was the day Lawrence and Holo had sworn to go as far as they might together.
No doubt a first-rate craftsman had been hired to do the work.
As neither Lawrence nor Holo had wanted to look at it before it was complete, they had no idea what the final product looked like at all.
So the sign that would hang over the bathhouse's front entrance would truly be revealed for the first time this day.
"Mr. Lawrence! Miss Holo!"
Moizi raised his voice first, his great frame and vigor undiminished by the years.
Luward Myuri was a tad taller and his physique quite a bit sterner after six years, perhaps looking so radiant because of the backdrop, but to Lawrence's eyes, he looked like he was at pains to drag a smile onto his face.
"It's been a while."
Luward spoke calmly and put out his hand.
Lawrence gripped his hand, shaking it vigorously.
And then, Luward knelt before Holo on one knee, suddenly coming to a halt.
This was no doubt his display of the highest respect to Holo, comrade of Myuri, the symbol of their banner and the wolf of Yoitsu from whom he had inherited his name as captain of a mercenary company of people of Yoitsu.
But Holo did not like this kind of thing.
Luward, still halted on one knee, respectfully took Holo's hand and put his lips to the back of it.
"A fine male you have become."
"Thank you very much."
The Myuri family line had passed a message down for Holo's sake.
No doubt Holo was grateful beyond words; no doubt Luward, current head of the house, could not be more proud.
"But you have become even more beautiful. Truly, among women, you are—"
Right around there, Holo put her index finger to Luward's lips.
***
"Kufu."
Holo smiled and tilted her head slightly, her gaze shifting from Luward's questioning look to the horse-drawn wagon behind him.
"The luggage is over there?"
"Ah yes. Hey!"
With that, Luward completely regained his captain's demeanor. No doubt the men who had followed Luward in his father's stead no longer called him "Young One."
"I was more worried about this than any other cargo escort job we've ever had."
The scars on his face had increased, making his smile feel more striking.
No doubt he would slip past death many times more as the years would pass, growing into a mercenary sharper and more forceful than even Moizi.
"Should we put it up right now?"
"No, we'll do it once people come, right?"
Holo's words were directed toward Lawrence.
"I think that's best. They've come all this way."
"Understood. Moizi and I have it here, so go ahead and unveil it."
It was a large, round metallic sign that a single adult could just barely get his arms around.
Some people simply had the name of their establishment for the design on their signs; others used symbols that carried some kind of drama or that simply stood out.
Lawrence had put the name of his establishment on the sign.
"It came out nicely?"
As Lawrence asked, Luward carried it over together with Moizi with ease, making a leer as he spoke.
"It made me tremble."
"Can we use that line as a testimonial?"
Luward first made an easygoing laugh at Lawrence's words. "How about ''Tis the finest bathhouse of the age, where even the hardy Myuri Mercenary Company feels at home'?"
"Oh, everyone has arrived!"
Lawrence suddenly grew tense at Moizi's words.
He could see a group coming from a grove of trees toward the top of the hill.
Eve was first, followed by Norah and Elsa and more. There seemed to indeed be five people.
In the end, he would still never understand Holo's true intent.
But beside him, Holo was in an exuberant mood; it seemed that Holo really had not brought this about because he had made her angry.
If that was so, what in the world was this?
No, best not to question, Lawrence decided.
Either way, there was no more felicitous day than this.
| "Ah, that's right." It was while she held Lawrence's hand, in the middle of heading to the entrance to the grounds to meet their guests.
"Mm?"
"There is something I forgot to ask."
"What?"
Was there something she had forgotten to have prepared for the day's feast?
He thought it must be something like that.
"Aye. The name."
"Hm?" Lawrence replied, then continued. "We decided on a name, didn't we? Er, well, certainly if you want to change it, it can still be changed...But didn't you like it? Spice and..."
He would have continued, but Holo's gaze alone brought Lawrence's lips to a halt.
It was not because she was angry. She was not sad, either. Nor was she beside herself. It was that even though her smiling face was so soft, it bore a look of seemingly unfathomable happiness, as if merely looking at him was enough to stir her heart very deeply.
And so she spoke. "'Tis not that."
"That?"
Lawrence spontaneously raised his head, looking all around the area.
Holo giggled and smiled. "Honestly," she said with a sigh. "So you really had not noticed? I was beginning to think you simply pretended not to..."
Lawrence was utterly confused.
What was Holo talking about?
While this was going on, the party of guests reached the top of the hill.
Unexpectedly, the first one up the hill was Weiz the money changer, but apparently Enek the dog had been chasing him; he had probably made a pass at Norah or something.
But the sight of them did not really enter Lawrence's head.
Inside his head, he felt like something incredible was about to be born.
Yes.
So strongly, like something, something completely new, was about to be born, here and now!
"It can't be—" As Lawrence raised his voice in a near shout, he became too overwhelmed to say any more.
He was in no condition to greet their guests; everyone around them paid attention to Lawrence's odd state.
Holo grinned. "To the very end, you never actually asked why I invited them to a banquet," she said. She narrowed her eyes—because of the dazzling brightness, or perhaps to hold back tears. "Obviously I wish to brag!"
And then, she lifted her chin and stood up on her toes, heedless of her surroundings.
There was no way he could decide something like that with all these people watching...!
He did not know if what reached his ears after were cries of acclaim or exasperated sighs.
But as Lawrence embraced Holo, he could say with certainty that he was the happiest man in the world.
Such was the memorable opening of a legendary bathhouse said to be a place of many smiles and much happiness...
...Spice and Wolf.
***
It was a strange thing, but without any particular reason for it, a house unlived in seemed to become decrepit with incredible force.
The doors cracked, the floorboards swelled, the roof fell to pieces.
Though the roof that had protected pitiable travelers from the rain had been robust while people lived here, it was now unreliable even before a light drizzle.
Perhaps because the building had been built on a firm foundation of stone, the weight-bearing pillars at the building's four corners still bore the vestiges of belonging to a house. Right now he seemed as if he pressed his body against them as he sheltered himself from the rain.
As that was the state of affairs, he placed the cargo-laden horse-drawn wagon, and the horse pulling it, beside the supporting pillar on the other side, and the supporting pillar for the ridge beside it, respectively.
As Lawrence sat with his back against the wall and lit a fire, he took a good look through the dilapidated roof at the heavy clouds on the other side.
"What, the fire is not ready yet?"
So spoke a small girl as she came over along the wall, splashing water off her robe all the while.
Under the dirty stone building, she looked like a devout nun on a pilgrimage to see the remains of an ancient saint.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Ah, that's right." It was while she held Lawrence's hand, in the middle of heading to the entrance to the grounds to meet their guests.
"Mm?"
"There is something I forgot to ask."
"What?"
Was there something she had forgotten to have prepared for the day's feast?
He thought it must be something like that.
"Aye. The name."
"Hm?" Lawrence replied, then continued. "We decided on a name, didn't we? Er, well, certainly if you want to change it, it can still be changed...But didn't you like it? Spice and..."
He would have continued, but Holo's gaze alone brought Lawrence's lips to a halt.
It was not because she was angry. She was not sad, either. Nor was she beside herself. It was that even though her smiling face was so soft, it bore a look of seemingly unfathomable happiness, as if merely looking at him was enough to stir her heart very deeply.
And so she spoke. "'Tis not that."
"That?"
Lawrence spontaneously raised his head, looking all around the area.
Holo giggled and smiled. "Honestly," she said with a sigh. "So you really had not noticed? I was beginning to think you simply pretended not to..."
Lawrence was utterly confused.
What was Holo talking about?
While this was going on, the party of guests reached the top of the hill.
Unexpectedly, the first one up the hill was Weiz the money changer, but apparently Enek the dog had been chasing him; he had probably made a pass at Norah or something.
But the sight of them did not really enter Lawrence's head.
Inside his head, he felt like something incredible was about to be born.
Yes.
So strongly, like something, something completely new, was about to be born, here and now!
"It can't be—" As Lawrence raised his voice in a near shout, he became too overwhelmed to say any more.
He was in no condition to greet their guests; everyone around them paid attention to Lawrence's odd state.
Holo grinned. "To the very end, you never actually asked why I invited them to a banquet," she said. She narrowed her eyes—because of the dazzling brightness, or perhaps to hold back tears. "Obviously I wish to brag!"
And then, she lifted her chin and stood up on her toes, heedless of her surroundings.
There was no way he could decide something like that with all these people watching...!
He did not know if what reached his ears after were cries of acclaim or exasperated sighs.
But as Lawrence embraced Holo, he could say with certainty that he was the happiest man in the world.
Such was the memorable opening of a legendary bathhouse said to be a place of many smiles and much happiness...
...Spice and Wolf.
***
It was a strange thing, but without any particular reason for it, a house unlived in seemed to become decrepit with incredible force.
The doors cracked, the floorboards swelled, the roof fell to pieces.
Though the roof that had protected pitiable travelers from the rain had been robust while people lived here, it was now unreliable even before a light drizzle.
Perhaps because the building had been built on a firm foundation of stone, the weight-bearing pillars at the building's four corners still bore the vestiges of belonging to a house. Right now he seemed as if he pressed his body against them as he sheltered himself from the rain.
As that was the state of affairs, he placed the cargo-laden horse-drawn wagon, and the horse pulling it, beside the supporting pillar on the other side, and the supporting pillar for the ridge beside it, respectively.
As Lawrence sat with his back against the wall and lit a fire, he took a good look through the dilapidated roof at the heavy clouds on the other side.
"What, the fire is not ready yet?"
So spoke a small girl as she came over along the wall, splashing water off her robe all the while.
Under the dirty stone building, she looked like a devout nun on a pilgrimage to see the remains of an ancient saint.
| Lawrence, who had traveled alone as a merchant for some seven years, now traveled with Holo, a centuries-old incarnation of a giant wolf sometimes known as a wisewolf.
"Is that what you should say while you're wringing water out of a robe right beside someone starting a fire?"
The first step was to take grass stalks that had been pulverized and cleaned with water, then dried to make them come apart, and light them with sparks from repeatedly striking flints together. Next came using that to ignite straw, using that to make wood burn.
The somewhat ominous look Holo made when she put her wrung-out robe back on was just as Lawrence finally got the fire transferred to the bundle of straw in his hand.
"I believe 'tis easier to light that fire with the heat of your anger."
Sarcasm aside, it did not seem she was interested in a real argument with Lawrence.
As her words fell on deaf ears, Holo put her hand over her head beside the fire.
Lawrence began burning wood chips he had shaved with a dagger, feeding kindling into the fire bit by bit, resulting in a fine campfire shortly thereafter.
"It really was just in the nick of time, though."
Lawrence picked out a branch from among his kindling, speaking as he pruned it with his dagger.
"Aye, thanks to a foolish merchant being unable to say no, we piled up too much heavy freight and ran late. We almost ended up having to sleep under the rain."
Holo spoke while spreading out some oiled leather and sprawling herself over it.
At the town they had visited several days earlier, he had been unable to say no when a traveling merchant he knew asked him to carry salt-pickled herring on his wagon. Thanks to the weight, the wagon had only been able to make gradual progress on the road, and rain began to fall midway.
But there was no mistake that far more than that, she simply found the strong smell of pickled herring on the roof rack hard to stomach. Perhaps it was due to all the lazy napping, but Holo's overly sensitive nose was not accustomed to any scent on the roof rack besides that of the hair of her own tail.
"We are profiting from it, though, after a fashion."
With the sharp, shaved branches, he skewered from mouth to tail a number of pickled herring from the cargo, standing them around the fire.
The contract with the shipper permitted them to eat up to ten fish.
It had been a while since they had had fish, so if he had wanted to go all out, he could put onions, garlic, and butter with them; surround them with tree bark; bury them in soil; and build a fire on top. After a while, he could put the fire out and dig the food up, having nicely cooked a covered "pot" of sweet and salty fish.
The reason he had not done so this night was that he could foresee that once Holo had tasted such cooking, she would never again be satisfied with fish that had been merely baked.
Tasty things were poison for the eyes and poison for the tongue. But one could not crave something they knew nothing about.
"Indeed. Aye, baked. 'Tis a rather tasty-seeming scent."
Holo smacked her lips as her tail wagged rapidly.
As Lawrence made an amazed-looking smile, he tossed wood shavings right into the fire.
"Since we're not in the woods, I'm not worried about attracting anything and everything, but I am concerned about mice."
Even though he had only just begun cooking, Holo poked a fish with a finger and licked the salt off.
If he said something like, "I thought it was dogs that liked the taste of salt," no doubt every hair on her tail would stand up with her flying into a rage.
"Well, I do not think that will be a problem. Not many people dwell in a place like this. For that matter..."
With that, Holo merrily licked salt directly off a fish that had not yet been skewered before continuing her words.
"...What is a building doing here, anyway?"
Holo looked up at the crumbling ceiling as she spoke, like a child looking at something odd.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence, who had traveled alone as a merchant for some seven years, now traveled with Holo, a centuries-old incarnation of a giant wolf sometimes known as a wisewolf.
"Is that what you should say while you're wringing water out of a robe right beside someone starting a fire?"
The first step was to take grass stalks that had been pulverized and cleaned with water, then dried to make them come apart, and light them with sparks from repeatedly striking flints together. Next came using that to ignite straw, using that to make wood burn.
The somewhat ominous look Holo made when she put her wrung-out robe back on was just as Lawrence finally got the fire transferred to the bundle of straw in his hand.
"I believe 'tis easier to light that fire with the heat of your anger."
Sarcasm aside, it did not seem she was interested in a real argument with Lawrence.
As her words fell on deaf ears, Holo put her hand over her head beside the fire.
Lawrence began burning wood chips he had shaved with a dagger, feeding kindling into the fire bit by bit, resulting in a fine campfire shortly thereafter.
"It really was just in the nick of time, though."
Lawrence picked out a branch from among his kindling, speaking as he pruned it with his dagger.
"Aye, thanks to a foolish merchant being unable to say no, we piled up too much heavy freight and ran late. We almost ended up having to sleep under the rain."
Holo spoke while spreading out some oiled leather and sprawling herself over it.
At the town they had visited several days earlier, he had been unable to say no when a traveling merchant he knew asked him to carry salt-pickled herring on his wagon. Thanks to the weight, the wagon had only been able to make gradual progress on the road, and rain began to fall midway.
But there was no mistake that far more than that, she simply found the strong smell of pickled herring on the roof rack hard to stomach. Perhaps it was due to all the lazy napping, but Holo's overly sensitive nose was not accustomed to any scent on the roof rack besides that of the hair of her own tail.
"We are profiting from it, though, after a fashion."
With the sharp, shaved branches, he skewered from mouth to tail a number of pickled herring from the cargo, standing them around the fire.
The contract with the shipper permitted them to eat up to ten fish.
It had been a while since they had had fish, so if he had wanted to go all out, he could put onions, garlic, and butter with them; surround them with tree bark; bury them in soil; and build a fire on top. After a while, he could put the fire out and dig the food up, having nicely cooked a covered "pot" of sweet and salty fish.
The reason he had not done so this night was that he could foresee that once Holo had tasted such cooking, she would never again be satisfied with fish that had been merely baked.
Tasty things were poison for the eyes and poison for the tongue. But one could not crave something they knew nothing about.
"Indeed. Aye, baked. 'Tis a rather tasty-seeming scent."
Holo smacked her lips as her tail wagged rapidly.
As Lawrence made an amazed-looking smile, he tossed wood shavings right into the fire.
"Since we're not in the woods, I'm not worried about attracting anything and everything, but I am concerned about mice."
Even though he had only just begun cooking, Holo poked a fish with a finger and licked the salt off.
If he said something like, "I thought it was dogs that liked the taste of salt," no doubt every hair on her tail would stand up with her flying into a rage.
"Well, I do not think that will be a problem. Not many people dwell in a place like this. For that matter..."
With that, Holo merrily licked salt directly off a fish that had not yet been skewered before continuing her words.
"...What is a building doing here, anyway?"
Holo looked up at the crumbling ceiling as she spoke, like a child looking at something odd.
| Looking at the building, surely it did not take someone who had spent centuries in a village's wheat field like Holo to think the same thing.
Namely, that the building sheltering Lawrence and Holo from the rain had been built atop something that itself stood out.
"To begin with, how did you know about this place? When you realized rain might fall, you came straight here, did you not?"
Perhaps having licked enough salt to satisfy her for the time being, Holo took the piece of wood that Lawrence had been whittling right out of his hands as she spoke.
Just as he wondered what in the world she was doing, she picked out the largest fish left among those that had not yet been impaled on sticks, squeezing its mouth shut.
She was probably saying, "This one is mine."
"That's because I've been here before. At the time I was lost and just stumbled upon it."
Holo murmured as she took that in, looking around the area.
"I wonder, was it already this worn out back then?"
"No. Buildings pile up damage when people don't live in them. It's right about three years since I came here."
As the conversation continued, Holo turned to the fish baking from the fire.
She really could not calm down with food right in front of her.
"Meaning, there was someone living here at the time?"
"Yes. A rather eccentric man, too." As Lawrence spoke, he chuckled as he remembered. But it was not simply a laugh, for a considerable sigh was mixed in as well.
No doubt the dubious-looking face Holo made toward him was due to her noticing that sigh.
Lawrence raised his face up and shook his head a little.
"He built a stone fort in a place like this and lived in it, so of course he was eccentric."
"Indeed...Well, that might be the case, but..."
...What was the cause of that sigh?
As Holo spoke the unexpected words, she stared straight toward him.
Lawrence did not notice where she was looking, for he was looking not at her, but squarely at the flames of the campfire.
"It sounds like quite a story."
The voice Holo suddenly turned toward him seemed displeased on the surface, but there was a small air of sadness lurking behind her tone.
"Not really, but..."
It was not really something Lawrence wanted to talk to other people about.
That seemed particularly so in Holo's case.
Even though it felt like Holo lived to expose that which was hidden, she seemed to read the atmosphere at that point.
It looked like she might just quietly back off, but her ears drooped as she gave off a desolate look.
And then she spoke while reaching out for a fish. "You really do not speak much about your past."
Surely it was not so much insisting on hearing the story than lodging a small complaint.
Even so, Lawrence got weak in the knees when he saw Holo in that state.
As Holo, perhaps unable to resist, bit into the fish, as if purposefully taking off the salt she had gotten on her cheek in the process, Lawrence tentatively prefaced his comments.
"When tired on a journey, aren't funny stories better?"
"Salt never tastes better than when you are tired."
In no time at all, she had finished eating half the length of the fish and drank wine from a small keg with a sour look.
Her behavior, like that of a spoiled little lady, was largely an act, but Lawrence knew she wanted to be indulged with a story.
No choice, then, he thought with a sigh; he brought the dagger he was using to scrape branches over the fire.
"This dagger's taken good care of me here and there."
With that, he began.
"You see the words engraved here?"
It was a well-made dagger that he would not be ashamed to show any smith in any town whatsoever.
It had protected Lawrence on numerous occasions and had served as a convenient tool on his various journeys.
But it really felt like too martial a dagger for a traveling merchant to carry around with him.
As Holo savored the taste of the fish in her mouth, she snuggled against Lawrence's body under his arm, squarely peeking out at it like a cat.
"Ahh, where weally is somewhing?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Looking at the building, surely it did not take someone who had spent centuries in a village's wheat field like Holo to think the same thing.
Namely, that the building sheltering Lawrence and Holo from the rain had been built atop something that itself stood out.
"To begin with, how did you know about this place? When you realized rain might fall, you came straight here, did you not?"
Perhaps having licked enough salt to satisfy her for the time being, Holo took the piece of wood that Lawrence had been whittling right out of his hands as she spoke.
Just as he wondered what in the world she was doing, she picked out the largest fish left among those that had not yet been impaled on sticks, squeezing its mouth shut.
She was probably saying, "This one is mine."
"That's because I've been here before. At the time I was lost and just stumbled upon it."
Holo murmured as she took that in, looking around the area.
"I wonder, was it already this worn out back then?"
"No. Buildings pile up damage when people don't live in them. It's right about three years since I came here."
As the conversation continued, Holo turned to the fish baking from the fire.
She really could not calm down with food right in front of her.
"Meaning, there was someone living here at the time?"
"Yes. A rather eccentric man, too." As Lawrence spoke, he chuckled as he remembered. But it was not simply a laugh, for a considerable sigh was mixed in as well.
No doubt the dubious-looking face Holo made toward him was due to her noticing that sigh.
Lawrence raised his face up and shook his head a little.
"He built a stone fort in a place like this and lived in it, so of course he was eccentric."
"Indeed...Well, that might be the case, but..."
...What was the cause of that sigh?
As Holo spoke the unexpected words, she stared straight toward him.
Lawrence did not notice where she was looking, for he was looking not at her, but squarely at the flames of the campfire.
"It sounds like quite a story."
The voice Holo suddenly turned toward him seemed displeased on the surface, but there was a small air of sadness lurking behind her tone.
"Not really, but..."
It was not really something Lawrence wanted to talk to other people about.
That seemed particularly so in Holo's case.
Even though it felt like Holo lived to expose that which was hidden, she seemed to read the atmosphere at that point.
It looked like she might just quietly back off, but her ears drooped as she gave off a desolate look.
And then she spoke while reaching out for a fish. "You really do not speak much about your past."
Surely it was not so much insisting on hearing the story than lodging a small complaint.
Even so, Lawrence got weak in the knees when he saw Holo in that state.
As Holo, perhaps unable to resist, bit into the fish, as if purposefully taking off the salt she had gotten on her cheek in the process, Lawrence tentatively prefaced his comments.
"When tired on a journey, aren't funny stories better?"
"Salt never tastes better than when you are tired."
In no time at all, she had finished eating half the length of the fish and drank wine from a small keg with a sour look.
Her behavior, like that of a spoiled little lady, was largely an act, but Lawrence knew she wanted to be indulged with a story.
No choice, then, he thought with a sigh; he brought the dagger he was using to scrape branches over the fire.
"This dagger's taken good care of me here and there."
With that, he began.
"You see the words engraved here?"
It was a well-made dagger that he would not be ashamed to show any smith in any town whatsoever.
It had protected Lawrence on numerous occasions and had served as a convenient tool on his various journeys.
But it really felt like too martial a dagger for a traveling merchant to carry around with him.
As Holo savored the taste of the fish in her mouth, she snuggled against Lawrence's body under his arm, squarely peeking out at it like a cat.
"Ahh, where weally is somewhing?"
| She was probably asking, "So what is written on it?"
As Holo sat beside him, Lawrence handed her the dagger.
"God grant me mercy."
Holo's look of surprise might have been because she expected something more magnificent to be engraved on a weapon like this. In fact, chariots, rams, and the great swords and lances knights used on horseback all had phrases etched upon them. Yet among them, only a knight's dagger had something as seemingly banal as "God grant me mercy" engraved upon it.
In the past, Lawrence, too, had found it curious but thought it simply a matter of custom. He had only learned of its significance when he came to this very stone fort.
"Among the elderly, there are those who call these daggers 'misericordes,' meaning acts of mercy in an older tongue."
Holo nodded with deep interest; the moment she raised the dagger over the fire, the finely polished blade reflected the fire's light so brightly that she closed her eyes.
"Ha-ha. So you see, this dagger was handed down to me by just one such old man."
As he retrieved the dagger from Holo, his gaze fell to the well-used hilt.
The story was from three years prior.
It was a time when something like Lawrence meeting Holo was as yet unthinkable.
Though by good fortune he had reached it while having lost his way, truly this was the house of the devil.
The story of a merchant who wasted his profits on a daily basis was not an amusing one.
Furthermore, having set eyes upon it amid a plain that continued seemingly for all eternity, even though he thought it an ill omen, it simply could not have been helped.
The bare hill appearing smack in the middle of the plain had posts sticking out of it like the spines of a sea urchin. The grand, dignified stone fort at the summit of the hill gave off an atmosphere like an execution ground straight out of hell where the sins of man would be judged.
The feeling that a demon or Grim Reaper might show up at any moment was not based upon that atmosphere alone.
Having cut food down to the minimum to reduce traveling expenses, his last provisions had run out the night before. Horses could live off eating the poor, wild grasses while on the road, but men could not. Though he could choose to sacrifice his horse as a last resort, it would bring about bankruptcy, which meant much the same as death to a merchant.
Finally, he had received divine punishment for being too obsessed with turning a profit.
The circumstances were more than sufficient to make a man think that way.
Aided by his empty stomach, Lawrence was on the verge of losing his spirit and giving up.
However, it was an all too realistic welcoming ceremony that suddenly brought Lawrence back to his senses.
He heard a high-pitched sound, making him think that a large insect had buzzed past his ear. After, a sound like the shaking of wood instantly alerted him to just what had flown at him.
Lawrence instantly leaped down from the driver's seat and hid under his horse.
Someone had shot an arrow at him.
"I'm a traveling merchant who got lost! Just a traveling merchant!"
And even after yelling with all his strength, two more arrows thrust into the earth. They neatly avoided the horse, one falling to the left, one to the right; the shooter must have been rather skilled.
Whether as a result of Lawrence's shouts or not, no other arrows came flying, or perhaps the shooter was simply waiting for him to stick his head up before shooting again. Thinking of that, Lawrence stayed put for a while; finally, he heard the sound of footsteps. It seemed he had not been shot at from the fort; the shooter was apparently hidden on some slope somewhere.
When Lawrence, pathetically between the legs of his horse, looked in the direction of the sound, he saw the silhouette of a man.
The man stood still and spoke.
"A traveling merchant, you say?"
The voice was rather coarse; even if it was for show, Lawrence thought the man had to have been fairly old.
As Lawrence answered yes, the man swiftly crouched down.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | She was probably asking, "So what is written on it?"
As Holo sat beside him, Lawrence handed her the dagger.
"God grant me mercy."
Holo's look of surprise might have been because she expected something more magnificent to be engraved on a weapon like this. In fact, chariots, rams, and the great swords and lances knights used on horseback all had phrases etched upon them. Yet among them, only a knight's dagger had something as seemingly banal as "God grant me mercy" engraved upon it.
In the past, Lawrence, too, had found it curious but thought it simply a matter of custom. He had only learned of its significance when he came to this very stone fort.
"Among the elderly, there are those who call these daggers 'misericordes,' meaning acts of mercy in an older tongue."
Holo nodded with deep interest; the moment she raised the dagger over the fire, the finely polished blade reflected the fire's light so brightly that she closed her eyes.
"Ha-ha. So you see, this dagger was handed down to me by just one such old man."
As he retrieved the dagger from Holo, his gaze fell to the well-used hilt.
The story was from three years prior.
It was a time when something like Lawrence meeting Holo was as yet unthinkable.
Though by good fortune he had reached it while having lost his way, truly this was the house of the devil.
The story of a merchant who wasted his profits on a daily basis was not an amusing one.
Furthermore, having set eyes upon it amid a plain that continued seemingly for all eternity, even though he thought it an ill omen, it simply could not have been helped.
The bare hill appearing smack in the middle of the plain had posts sticking out of it like the spines of a sea urchin. The grand, dignified stone fort at the summit of the hill gave off an atmosphere like an execution ground straight out of hell where the sins of man would be judged.
The feeling that a demon or Grim Reaper might show up at any moment was not based upon that atmosphere alone.
Having cut food down to the minimum to reduce traveling expenses, his last provisions had run out the night before. Horses could live off eating the poor, wild grasses while on the road, but men could not. Though he could choose to sacrifice his horse as a last resort, it would bring about bankruptcy, which meant much the same as death to a merchant.
Finally, he had received divine punishment for being too obsessed with turning a profit.
The circumstances were more than sufficient to make a man think that way.
Aided by his empty stomach, Lawrence was on the verge of losing his spirit and giving up.
However, it was an all too realistic welcoming ceremony that suddenly brought Lawrence back to his senses.
He heard a high-pitched sound, making him think that a large insect had buzzed past his ear. After, a sound like the shaking of wood instantly alerted him to just what had flown at him.
Lawrence instantly leaped down from the driver's seat and hid under his horse.
Someone had shot an arrow at him.
"I'm a traveling merchant who got lost! Just a traveling merchant!"
And even after yelling with all his strength, two more arrows thrust into the earth. They neatly avoided the horse, one falling to the left, one to the right; the shooter must have been rather skilled.
Whether as a result of Lawrence's shouts or not, no other arrows came flying, or perhaps the shooter was simply waiting for him to stick his head up before shooting again. Thinking of that, Lawrence stayed put for a while; finally, he heard the sound of footsteps. It seemed he had not been shot at from the fort; the shooter was apparently hidden on some slope somewhere.
When Lawrence, pathetically between the legs of his horse, looked in the direction of the sound, he saw the silhouette of a man.
The man stood still and spoke.
"A traveling merchant, you say?"
The voice was rather coarse; even if it was for show, Lawrence thought the man had to have been fairly old.
As Lawrence answered yes, the man swiftly crouched down.
| "By the grace of God. Good thing I didn't shoot you to death."
The leering grin on his face made it hard to dismiss as a joke.
But the man stood up and made an about-face on his heel.
Is he letting me live? wondered Lawrence, staying put under his horse, when the old man suddenly looked back.
"Well, what are you doing? You got lost, didn't you?"
When Lawrence slowly poked his head out, the old man was pointing to the fort atop the hill as he spoke.
"At least let me treat you to a meal for your journey ahead, young man. Also, I have a favor to ask you."
It was quite a line, coming from someone defending his fortress by bowshot.
He behaved as though he was the master of this fort, but the old man, showing a perfect set of teeth in spite of his age as he smiled, introduced himself in this manner:
"I am called Fried, entrusted with Rumut Fort by the command of Count Zenfel, honored lord of this castle."
Spoken like a king, or someone who thought he was one in his own mind, but as Fried finished speaking, he looked up at the fort, his face suddenly breaking into an embarrassed-looking smile.
"Having said so, it's been quite a while since I shot an arrow at someone. I'm thankful I didn't hit you."
And as he made a chuckle, he walked up the hill.
For a while, Lawrence stayed where he was, watching Fried's backside from under his horse, his face a mix of a bit of surprise and bewilderment. He had heard of a Count Zenfel. He was famous in this region for his trivial pursuits, though one would no doubt only hear such talk about the ruler from travelers on the side of the road.
After all, it had been over a decade since that ruler had governed these lands.
What was Fried doing in a fort that no longer had a lord?
Bandits were fond of setting up shop in forts abandoned by soldiers, but was it really that?
Furthermore, he had no sense the man was going to plunder his cargo.
Courting unprofitable danger would make him a poor merchant, but lack of curiosity would make him an even poorer one.
After thinking it over for a while, Lawrence finally crawled out from under his horse, picked up the arrows Fried had left on the ground, and tossed them on top of the roof rack, and gripping the reins, he followed after Fried.
The road winding its way to the fort was in good repair, with tapered stakes all over the place embedded into the slope at an angle. They looked like defenses one would put up against an army about to invade at any moment, yet it all seemed to be lacking somehow.
It was only when they entered through the open stone gateway that he realized that somehow it was far too quiet.
"...Goodness, it's hard getting up the hill at my age."
As the wagon entered the courtyard, Fried spoke while slapping his hip with his bow.
Inside the finely set stone walls, life on the inside of the fort was just as finely maintained.
There was a cattle pen, a vegetable garden, and a stable, plus a graveyard and a small chapel, with flowers blooming all around.
It was immediately clear that the second floor of the building was kept in impressive repair as well; it seemed like someone's face might suddenly poke out from the shadows made by the open windows and doors.
But as Lawrence tethered his horse as Fried told him to, no faces poked out, nor was there even the slightest sign that they might.
He heard pigs, chickens, and even the faint baa of a sheep.
To be blunt, it was as quiet as if all the soldiers had turned tail and run.
"Hmm. I thought it might be my imagination, but you really don't look so good."
Fried suddenly spoke like that as he took note of Lawrence's state while walking with him and leading him inside.
There was no point hiding it, so Lawrence made an honest reply.
"Actually, my last proper meal was two nights ago."
"Hmph. That would do it. I must treat you to a feast, then. I have freshly ground pork and...Oh, come to think of it, Paule laid an egg by the ditch just this morning," Fried murmured to himself as he went into the building.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "By the grace of God. Good thing I didn't shoot you to death."
The leering grin on his face made it hard to dismiss as a joke.
But the man stood up and made an about-face on his heel.
Is he letting me live? wondered Lawrence, staying put under his horse, when the old man suddenly looked back.
"Well, what are you doing? You got lost, didn't you?"
When Lawrence slowly poked his head out, the old man was pointing to the fort atop the hill as he spoke.
"At least let me treat you to a meal for your journey ahead, young man. Also, I have a favor to ask you."
It was quite a line, coming from someone defending his fortress by bowshot.
He behaved as though he was the master of this fort, but the old man, showing a perfect set of teeth in spite of his age as he smiled, introduced himself in this manner:
"I am called Fried, entrusted with Rumut Fort by the command of Count Zenfel, honored lord of this castle."
Spoken like a king, or someone who thought he was one in his own mind, but as Fried finished speaking, he looked up at the fort, his face suddenly breaking into an embarrassed-looking smile.
"Having said so, it's been quite a while since I shot an arrow at someone. I'm thankful I didn't hit you."
And as he made a chuckle, he walked up the hill.
For a while, Lawrence stayed where he was, watching Fried's backside from under his horse, his face a mix of a bit of surprise and bewilderment. He had heard of a Count Zenfel. He was famous in this region for his trivial pursuits, though one would no doubt only hear such talk about the ruler from travelers on the side of the road.
After all, it had been over a decade since that ruler had governed these lands.
What was Fried doing in a fort that no longer had a lord?
Bandits were fond of setting up shop in forts abandoned by soldiers, but was it really that?
Furthermore, he had no sense the man was going to plunder his cargo.
Courting unprofitable danger would make him a poor merchant, but lack of curiosity would make him an even poorer one.
After thinking it over for a while, Lawrence finally crawled out from under his horse, picked up the arrows Fried had left on the ground, and tossed them on top of the roof rack, and gripping the reins, he followed after Fried.
The road winding its way to the fort was in good repair, with tapered stakes all over the place embedded into the slope at an angle. They looked like defenses one would put up against an army about to invade at any moment, yet it all seemed to be lacking somehow.
It was only when they entered through the open stone gateway that he realized that somehow it was far too quiet.
"...Goodness, it's hard getting up the hill at my age."
As the wagon entered the courtyard, Fried spoke while slapping his hip with his bow.
Inside the finely set stone walls, life on the inside of the fort was just as finely maintained.
There was a cattle pen, a vegetable garden, and a stable, plus a graveyard and a small chapel, with flowers blooming all around.
It was immediately clear that the second floor of the building was kept in impressive repair as well; it seemed like someone's face might suddenly poke out from the shadows made by the open windows and doors.
But as Lawrence tethered his horse as Fried told him to, no faces poked out, nor was there even the slightest sign that they might.
He heard pigs, chickens, and even the faint baa of a sheep.
To be blunt, it was as quiet as if all the soldiers had turned tail and run.
"Hmm. I thought it might be my imagination, but you really don't look so good."
Fried suddenly spoke like that as he took note of Lawrence's state while walking with him and leading him inside.
There was no point hiding it, so Lawrence made an honest reply.
"Actually, my last proper meal was two nights ago."
"Hmph. That would do it. I must treat you to a feast, then. I have freshly ground pork and...Oh, come to think of it, Paule laid an egg by the ditch just this morning," Fried murmured to himself as he went into the building.
| Thinking such thoughts, Lawrence followed along, entering a neat and tidy galley.
"Over here."
They passed by a cooking stove that still had red embers in it, arriving at the middle of the room.
There stood a well-used table and chair.
As Lawrence sat, the chair made an uneasy creak, but there was not a speck of dust on it.
"Yes, yes. Still fine for you to sit in, is it? It seems my skills haven't dulled yet."
Though he spoke like a noble, he apparently did not shy away from manual labor.
In the first place, if he was the lord of the castle, he would not go out of his way to personally take up arms against guests. Moreover, leaving one's fort meant it had no value as a fortress.
"Well, you can rest easy. You and I are the only ones in this fort, after all."
There were tales of women living in small cottages in the middle of the forest.
Whether the woman be witch, devil, or spirit, the possibility she brought good fortune was overwhelmingly low.
But did that go for an old man who greeted visitors with shots from his bow?
Whatever the case, Lawrence certainly could not think of him as some sort of monster.
"Have you always been here by yourself?"
Fried smiled at Lawrence's question.
It seemed the chagrined smile on his face was not just Lawrence's imagination.
"When this place was entrusted to me, I had five bold men under me. I was down one, then another, and finally, only I remained."
"Was that from battle?"
As Lawrence questioned further, Fried turned toward him with a very forthright look.
Right around the moment Lawrence wondered if it was a bad question, Fried raised his face toward the ceiling and let out a hearty laugh.
"Ha-ha-ha! If only! It's been ten years since this was entrusted to me. The only visitors are the ones who get lost!"
Speaking as he laughed loudly, he stopped on a dime and closed his mouth, glaring at Lawrence.
"Do be careful about supper. If you eat too much, you won't be able to leave."
And smiling once more, he immediately walked toward the kitchen.
I'm sure this is not some demon-built gateway to hell, at least, but I have entered a very odd place indeed, murmured Lawrence within his own thoughts.
It did not take much time before pork added to runny eggs and rough-cut vegetables stir-fried in tallow were all done; the outside was still dyed dark red.
Bread seemed to have been recently baked inside the fort, for the wheat bread he was served was still soft, coming with ale that itself had been brewed in the fort. His mouth was full of herbs he had seen in the vegetable garden outside. In most respects it was a feast indeed.
Furthermore, before Lawrence could worry about it being poisoned, Fried himself toasted him in good cheer, displaying a healthy appetite one would not expect from someone his age.
"Aye. It's indeed tastier than when you're by yourself. Oh, don't hold back. You're young! Eat up! You've barely touched your ale."
He was hungry, of course.
Once he first stretched out his hand, he wolfed down everything in no time, to the point Fried's eyes went wide.
"My, my, you certainly ate that," Fried remarked while putting toothpicks whittled from a branch with a small knife through scraps of meat and bread. Indeed, though he spoke as if he was a nobleman, he looked like an old man in a village happily heading out to his fields and certainly nothing like a noble or knight at all.
In the middle of their meal, Fried asked Lawrence some very probing questions, such as "Where did you come from?" "What are you trading?" "Where were you born?" and "Do you have a wife?" As Lawrence had to answer such questions or do without such a delicious meal, he had no time to ask questions of his own at all.
"That was truly a splendid feast. No doubt I'd have needed a gold coin to eat like that at a traveler's inn."
He spoke very merchant-like words of thanks.
"I see, I see. Ha-ha-ha."
Fried, his face red from drinking ale, made an amiable laugh and nodded along.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Thinking such thoughts, Lawrence followed along, entering a neat and tidy galley.
"Over here."
They passed by a cooking stove that still had red embers in it, arriving at the middle of the room.
There stood a well-used table and chair.
As Lawrence sat, the chair made an uneasy creak, but there was not a speck of dust on it.
"Yes, yes. Still fine for you to sit in, is it? It seems my skills haven't dulled yet."
Though he spoke like a noble, he apparently did not shy away from manual labor.
In the first place, if he was the lord of the castle, he would not go out of his way to personally take up arms against guests. Moreover, leaving one's fort meant it had no value as a fortress.
"Well, you can rest easy. You and I are the only ones in this fort, after all."
There were tales of women living in small cottages in the middle of the forest.
Whether the woman be witch, devil, or spirit, the possibility she brought good fortune was overwhelmingly low.
But did that go for an old man who greeted visitors with shots from his bow?
Whatever the case, Lawrence certainly could not think of him as some sort of monster.
"Have you always been here by yourself?"
Fried smiled at Lawrence's question.
It seemed the chagrined smile on his face was not just Lawrence's imagination.
"When this place was entrusted to me, I had five bold men under me. I was down one, then another, and finally, only I remained."
"Was that from battle?"
As Lawrence questioned further, Fried turned toward him with a very forthright look.
Right around the moment Lawrence wondered if it was a bad question, Fried raised his face toward the ceiling and let out a hearty laugh.
"Ha-ha-ha! If only! It's been ten years since this was entrusted to me. The only visitors are the ones who get lost!"
Speaking as he laughed loudly, he stopped on a dime and closed his mouth, glaring at Lawrence.
"Do be careful about supper. If you eat too much, you won't be able to leave."
And smiling once more, he immediately walked toward the kitchen.
I'm sure this is not some demon-built gateway to hell, at least, but I have entered a very odd place indeed, murmured Lawrence within his own thoughts.
It did not take much time before pork added to runny eggs and rough-cut vegetables stir-fried in tallow were all done; the outside was still dyed dark red.
Bread seemed to have been recently baked inside the fort, for the wheat bread he was served was still soft, coming with ale that itself had been brewed in the fort. His mouth was full of herbs he had seen in the vegetable garden outside. In most respects it was a feast indeed.
Furthermore, before Lawrence could worry about it being poisoned, Fried himself toasted him in good cheer, displaying a healthy appetite one would not expect from someone his age.
"Aye. It's indeed tastier than when you're by yourself. Oh, don't hold back. You're young! Eat up! You've barely touched your ale."
He was hungry, of course.
Once he first stretched out his hand, he wolfed down everything in no time, to the point Fried's eyes went wide.
"My, my, you certainly ate that," Fried remarked while putting toothpicks whittled from a branch with a small knife through scraps of meat and bread. Indeed, though he spoke as if he was a nobleman, he looked like an old man in a village happily heading out to his fields and certainly nothing like a noble or knight at all.
In the middle of their meal, Fried asked Lawrence some very probing questions, such as "Where did you come from?" "What are you trading?" "Where were you born?" and "Do you have a wife?" As Lawrence had to answer such questions or do without such a delicious meal, he had no time to ask questions of his own at all.
"That was truly a splendid feast. No doubt I'd have needed a gold coin to eat like that at a traveler's inn."
He spoke very merchant-like words of thanks.
"I see, I see. Ha-ha-ha."
Fried, his face red from drinking ale, made an amiable laugh and nodded along.
| Fried kept the smile on his face as he looked over some bread that had absorbed a lot of grease while being used in lieu of a plate.
There was a smile on his face, but Lawrence knew well the look of someone in thought.
In general, he found that if one was in a normal conversation with an elderly person, even if they were reluctant, they would speak even of troubles and conflicts of the past if a person insisted on asking.
"And...it has been several years since Count Zenfel..."
"Aye."
Fried promptly made his decision.
As he nodded, he took hold of the bread acting as a plate, and as if ripping the caution in his heart, he tore it into four large, roughly similar pieces.
"It's been...six years, perhaps, since the last letter came? It came from a knight calling himself the count's nephew. Apparently the count was campaigning in distant lands, fell ill, and passed away. What a shame to lose him."
So it was largely as Lawrence had remembered.
"The letter contained a will by the count, stating that he was entrusting this fort to me, to defend well this dominion. It also said the Duller Monastery would no doubt send whatever supplies I might lack. There are many who claim that the count was as upbeat as a poet singing a song, but he was very reliable in such matters."
He had probably made donations there when it was harvest time in the territory.
So this was the reason Fried was living alone in a fort on a hill in the middle of a barren prairie.
"I left a village withering away to begin with. Over twenty years ago, I was a would-be mercenary while the fever of a great war laid waste to the world. I gained a fief from the count during that time. He truly was a fine man to serve."
"They say...it is only in a time of war that one can dream of going from a shoemaker to a shepherd, yes?"
As Lawrence spoke while getting further along with his ale, Fried made an "Ohh" with a suitable expression, nodding in satisfaction.
"Yes. It was an age when princes strove to gain lands by force of arms, however barren they might be."
Like an elder, Fried spoke of the past with nostalgia and some measure of pride.
But Lawrence knew. In truth, war took place in but limited regions, though based on the all-too-heroic tales that were topics of conversations in this town and that, one would think the entire world had been plunged in mayhem.
Of course, Lawrence kept his peace, not wanting to pour cold water upon the matter, but Fried gazed at him with amusement as Lawrence casually brought more ale to his lips.
"Ha-ha. You are quite reserved for one so young, not telling me I'm an ignorant old man."
Surprised at those words, Lawrence made a pained smile.
Even in a place like this, Fried was well aware of the goings-on in the world.
"It's fairly often that far-off disputes are taken for stories of conflicts in nearby lands by mistake at some point. The sparks of war and chaos fly out of the mouths of men. Neither those who live in towns nor those who till the soil in villages travel outside them very often. Furthermore, travelers like you don't pour cold water on the tales of villagers, either. Before long, people get the notion that war is a whirlwind spanning the entire world."
Lawrence wondered if it was a magnanimous era.
Many real conflicts erupted over mere rumor; in many cases, both armies stuck their noses into something in the name of justice, with different ideas about how that was to be defined.
The stories left behind seemed like bad jokes.
"Because things are like that, I was as surprised as a hen when I heard the tale at a tavern...that Count Zenfel, known not only in his own lands but outside them, had declared he was building a fort here."
As Fried spoke, he tossed broken pieces of bread out through the window.
"Stöckengurt!"
And as shouted outside the window like so, Lawrence heard a sound like hooves; the whine that followed established that it was that which bore the exaggerated name of Stöckengurt.
Apparently it was a pig.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Fried kept the smile on his face as he looked over some bread that had absorbed a lot of grease while being used in lieu of a plate.
There was a smile on his face, but Lawrence knew well the look of someone in thought.
In general, he found that if one was in a normal conversation with an elderly person, even if they were reluctant, they would speak even of troubles and conflicts of the past if a person insisted on asking.
"And...it has been several years since Count Zenfel..."
"Aye."
Fried promptly made his decision.
As he nodded, he took hold of the bread acting as a plate, and as if ripping the caution in his heart, he tore it into four large, roughly similar pieces.
"It's been...six years, perhaps, since the last letter came? It came from a knight calling himself the count's nephew. Apparently the count was campaigning in distant lands, fell ill, and passed away. What a shame to lose him."
So it was largely as Lawrence had remembered.
"The letter contained a will by the count, stating that he was entrusting this fort to me, to defend well this dominion. It also said the Duller Monastery would no doubt send whatever supplies I might lack. There are many who claim that the count was as upbeat as a poet singing a song, but he was very reliable in such matters."
He had probably made donations there when it was harvest time in the territory.
So this was the reason Fried was living alone in a fort on a hill in the middle of a barren prairie.
"I left a village withering away to begin with. Over twenty years ago, I was a would-be mercenary while the fever of a great war laid waste to the world. I gained a fief from the count during that time. He truly was a fine man to serve."
"They say...it is only in a time of war that one can dream of going from a shoemaker to a shepherd, yes?"
As Lawrence spoke while getting further along with his ale, Fried made an "Ohh" with a suitable expression, nodding in satisfaction.
"Yes. It was an age when princes strove to gain lands by force of arms, however barren they might be."
Like an elder, Fried spoke of the past with nostalgia and some measure of pride.
But Lawrence knew. In truth, war took place in but limited regions, though based on the all-too-heroic tales that were topics of conversations in this town and that, one would think the entire world had been plunged in mayhem.
Of course, Lawrence kept his peace, not wanting to pour cold water upon the matter, but Fried gazed at him with amusement as Lawrence casually brought more ale to his lips.
"Ha-ha. You are quite reserved for one so young, not telling me I'm an ignorant old man."
Surprised at those words, Lawrence made a pained smile.
Even in a place like this, Fried was well aware of the goings-on in the world.
"It's fairly often that far-off disputes are taken for stories of conflicts in nearby lands by mistake at some point. The sparks of war and chaos fly out of the mouths of men. Neither those who live in towns nor those who till the soil in villages travel outside them very often. Furthermore, travelers like you don't pour cold water on the tales of villagers, either. Before long, people get the notion that war is a whirlwind spanning the entire world."
Lawrence wondered if it was a magnanimous era.
Many real conflicts erupted over mere rumor; in many cases, both armies stuck their noses into something in the name of justice, with different ideas about how that was to be defined.
The stories left behind seemed like bad jokes.
"Because things are like that, I was as surprised as a hen when I heard the tale at a tavern...that Count Zenfel, known not only in his own lands but outside them, had declared he was building a fort here."
As Fried spoke, he tossed broken pieces of bread out through the window.
"Stöckengurt!"
And as shouted outside the window like so, Lawrence heard a sound like hooves; the whine that followed established that it was that which bore the exaggerated name of Stöckengurt.
Apparently it was a pig.
| "So no enemies came, then?"
As if Lawrence's words had awoken Fried from a dream he had not wanted to wake from, he slowly nodded.
"I have no recollection of any in the last ten-odd years. I've aided many lost souls, and once some bandits came down from the mountains looking for this place, or at least I heard rumors to that effect. In the end, there has not been a single battle."
It was pointless to invade a barren land with nothing but dry, open prairie, after all. There was no value in defending such land. The fort could not support itself if besieged and would be forced to surrender in a very short time.
A worthless place to attack and completely unsuited to defense.
So that was why an abandoned fort like this had not fallen even once in spite of the passage of over a decade.
"In the first place, I never heard one word about anyone invading this region after the count passed away. I suppose other groups didn't want the place because it's too barren. It's like a teaching of the Church, is it not? Blessed are the meek."
Aided by his ale, Fried's laugh was tinged with a smidgen of anger.
He had lived in this fort for ten and more years.
Perhaps he regretted that he had not had a single battle in that time.
"But it looks like the privileges granted to the count will run out next summer. A letter to that effect practically just arrived."
"Oh?"
Fried stood up at the same time as Lawrence's surprised reaction.
"Because of that, I am, as I said, quite glad I did not hit you with my arrow. You're a traveling merchant, yes?"
When Fried tossed yet another piece of bread out the window, it was a chicken that cried out this time. Perhaps this was the Paule that had just laid an egg at the channel.
For a quiet fort, it had certainly become rather noisy.
"There is something I wish to ask of you."
"That's...Yes, of course, if it's within my power."
Even though he had only recently begun traveling on a proper trade route, he was still very hungry for new business opportunities. Even a fort with its lord having long passed away, with his privileges soon due to expire, it had to have stores of some kind. He would be very grateful if he could make a good profit from it.
As Lawrence balanced his debt to the man who had aided him and his own greed on the scales in his mind, the elderly man employed in defense of the fort had a smile on his face, looking somehow relieved as he spoke.
"I'd like you to help me liquidate this fort."
Lawrence raised his face, realizing then that he had an unguarded look that was entirely pathetic for a merchant.
"I want to go on a journey. So, I want to convert everything here into money."
"I don't...mind, but..."
"I have served here for ten-odd years. I deserve that much of a fitting farewell. I have faithfully defended this land, after all."
Only the last line sounded like the joke of a man who was drunk.
"Well, go ahead and enjoy a good night's sleep. It's been so long since I had a guest. You'll be amazed at how well you sleep on a straw bed that isn't squished down!"
Fried spoke in the exaggerated manner of a knight on the field of battle, following up with a great, hearty laugh.
Among human-built structures, forts were said to be places of simplicity and elegance second only to churches. Fried walked down a set of stone stairs within the fort, talking along the way.
Building a fort on top of a hill required a hill road, and these invariably spiraled clockwise around the hill going up. Such planning allowed for the transit of cargo up even steep hills, and should enemies ride up on horseback, it forced them to continually expose their right flanks to the fort. Since ordinarily, knights carried weapons in their right hand and shields in their left, this made them easier to attack from the fort.
Besides allowing one to see the condition of the enemy, the holes in the stone wall protecting the fort were harmonized with a solar calendar so that people under siege could determine the time of year.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "So no enemies came, then?"
As if Lawrence's words had awoken Fried from a dream he had not wanted to wake from, he slowly nodded.
"I have no recollection of any in the last ten-odd years. I've aided many lost souls, and once some bandits came down from the mountains looking for this place, or at least I heard rumors to that effect. In the end, there has not been a single battle."
It was pointless to invade a barren land with nothing but dry, open prairie, after all. There was no value in defending such land. The fort could not support itself if besieged and would be forced to surrender in a very short time.
A worthless place to attack and completely unsuited to defense.
So that was why an abandoned fort like this had not fallen even once in spite of the passage of over a decade.
"In the first place, I never heard one word about anyone invading this region after the count passed away. I suppose other groups didn't want the place because it's too barren. It's like a teaching of the Church, is it not? Blessed are the meek."
Aided by his ale, Fried's laugh was tinged with a smidgen of anger.
He had lived in this fort for ten and more years.
Perhaps he regretted that he had not had a single battle in that time.
"But it looks like the privileges granted to the count will run out next summer. A letter to that effect practically just arrived."
"Oh?"
Fried stood up at the same time as Lawrence's surprised reaction.
"Because of that, I am, as I said, quite glad I did not hit you with my arrow. You're a traveling merchant, yes?"
When Fried tossed yet another piece of bread out the window, it was a chicken that cried out this time. Perhaps this was the Paule that had just laid an egg at the channel.
For a quiet fort, it had certainly become rather noisy.
"There is something I wish to ask of you."
"That's...Yes, of course, if it's within my power."
Even though he had only recently begun traveling on a proper trade route, he was still very hungry for new business opportunities. Even a fort with its lord having long passed away, with his privileges soon due to expire, it had to have stores of some kind. He would be very grateful if he could make a good profit from it.
As Lawrence balanced his debt to the man who had aided him and his own greed on the scales in his mind, the elderly man employed in defense of the fort had a smile on his face, looking somehow relieved as he spoke.
"I'd like you to help me liquidate this fort."
Lawrence raised his face, realizing then that he had an unguarded look that was entirely pathetic for a merchant.
"I want to go on a journey. So, I want to convert everything here into money."
"I don't...mind, but..."
"I have served here for ten-odd years. I deserve that much of a fitting farewell. I have faithfully defended this land, after all."
Only the last line sounded like the joke of a man who was drunk.
"Well, go ahead and enjoy a good night's sleep. It's been so long since I had a guest. You'll be amazed at how well you sleep on a straw bed that isn't squished down!"
Fried spoke in the exaggerated manner of a knight on the field of battle, following up with a great, hearty laugh.
Among human-built structures, forts were said to be places of simplicity and elegance second only to churches. Fried walked down a set of stone stairs within the fort, talking along the way.
Building a fort on top of a hill required a hill road, and these invariably spiraled clockwise around the hill going up. Such planning allowed for the transit of cargo up even steep hills, and should enemies ride up on horseback, it forced them to continually expose their right flanks to the fort. Since ordinarily, knights carried weapons in their right hand and shields in their left, this made them easier to attack from the fort.
Besides allowing one to see the condition of the enemy, the holes in the stone wall protecting the fort were harmonized with a solar calendar so that people under siege could determine the time of year.
| Also, channels had been dug in various places around the fort to gather rainwater that splashed off the stone walls, making it run close to the vegetable garden. Jugs were placed thereafter so that the water did not go to waste; even the excess was blocked by stone slabs embedded in the ground, allowing the water to be pumped out later like from a well. What made the fort even finer was that when smoke was permitted to leave the kitchen, it was piped out to distribute warmth throughout the fort.
"It's quite a job for one man to maintain all this; in particular, dealing well with broken stones."
That was how Fried put it, but Lawrence felt that if he had been here by himself, maintaining a stone fort like this over the course of several years would be little short of a miracle.
The treasure room he was guided to after breakfast was, of course, not despoiled by enemy actions, but rather had been maintained in a tidy state, prevailing against the forces of humidity and mold.
"Well, more than anything of monetary value, this was placed here for when Count Zenfel might visit. To me, it's a treasure I can't put a value on, but what about you? Surely there is something here you can convert into money?"
Illuminated by the light of a candle were pavilion tents for use by persons of high status when traveling, banners, and a number of antique utensils. Certainly, the tents and banners seemed to have been used as bedding, but since there was no mold growing on them, they surely would have a fair amount of value. The utensils were not actual, magnificent silver, but rather all tin and steel. Of course, they were worth at least as much as the value of the melted-down metal. There was also a parchment upon which was written the rights to the fort and an exception from taxation, but this was a fort ignored by bandits for over a decade. Anyone would understand that the privileges on such a certificate were worthless, but if the words were erased, it could be sold off as a blank parchment. He could probably dig out something on the level of a book of tales of chivalry.
As Lawrence took note of everything in his head, he took his own wages into consideration as he reported to Fried about one item after another.
Fried marked a wax-varnished wooden table with a dagger to keep count.
"Mmm. For things to turn out like this..."
As he recorded the final numbers, Fried seemed a bit relieved as he spoke.
"The tents and books will go for quite a bit. It might make enough of a dowry that you could get into a monastery."
Afterward, he could live out his days peacefully in prayer and contemplation.
Fried roared with laughter at Lawrence's words.
"Ha-ha-ha. I've spent quite long enough living in a place like this, staring at nothing but the sky and flat plains.
"I've no intention of spending my money like that."
Speaking like a young man, Fried took in a deep breath and made a sigh.
"I left my village to win land of my own by the sword. I don't think I could die under a roof now. I am Fried Rittenmayer, part of a knightly order under Count Zenfel."
Even an old soldier had force behind his voice befitting an old soldier.
As Fried's own words seemed to deeply resonate within him, he suddenly looked in Lawrence's direction.
"I now remember that I am a knight. I forgot to take into account the most important thing."
"The most important thing?"
As Lawrence bounced the question back, Fried made no response; rather, he placed the dagger he had left on the table back on his hip and walked to one corner of the not particularly large treasure room.
And withdrawing a box from the tents and banners the count had granted him, he peeled off the crimson fabric beneath it all at once. Lawrence had assumed it was a protrusion from when the underground chamber had been constructed, but beneath that fabric appeared a large wooden crate large enough to fit an adult person inside.
As Lawrence wondered, I wonder what could be inside, his question was immediately answered.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Also, channels had been dug in various places around the fort to gather rainwater that splashed off the stone walls, making it run close to the vegetable garden. Jugs were placed thereafter so that the water did not go to waste; even the excess was blocked by stone slabs embedded in the ground, allowing the water to be pumped out later like from a well. What made the fort even finer was that when smoke was permitted to leave the kitchen, it was piped out to distribute warmth throughout the fort.
"It's quite a job for one man to maintain all this; in particular, dealing well with broken stones."
That was how Fried put it, but Lawrence felt that if he had been here by himself, maintaining a stone fort like this over the course of several years would be little short of a miracle.
The treasure room he was guided to after breakfast was, of course, not despoiled by enemy actions, but rather had been maintained in a tidy state, prevailing against the forces of humidity and mold.
"Well, more than anything of monetary value, this was placed here for when Count Zenfel might visit. To me, it's a treasure I can't put a value on, but what about you? Surely there is something here you can convert into money?"
Illuminated by the light of a candle were pavilion tents for use by persons of high status when traveling, banners, and a number of antique utensils. Certainly, the tents and banners seemed to have been used as bedding, but since there was no mold growing on them, they surely would have a fair amount of value. The utensils were not actual, magnificent silver, but rather all tin and steel. Of course, they were worth at least as much as the value of the melted-down metal. There was also a parchment upon which was written the rights to the fort and an exception from taxation, but this was a fort ignored by bandits for over a decade. Anyone would understand that the privileges on such a certificate were worthless, but if the words were erased, it could be sold off as a blank parchment. He could probably dig out something on the level of a book of tales of chivalry.
As Lawrence took note of everything in his head, he took his own wages into consideration as he reported to Fried about one item after another.
Fried marked a wax-varnished wooden table with a dagger to keep count.
"Mmm. For things to turn out like this..."
As he recorded the final numbers, Fried seemed a bit relieved as he spoke.
"The tents and books will go for quite a bit. It might make enough of a dowry that you could get into a monastery."
Afterward, he could live out his days peacefully in prayer and contemplation.
Fried roared with laughter at Lawrence's words.
"Ha-ha-ha. I've spent quite long enough living in a place like this, staring at nothing but the sky and flat plains.
"I've no intention of spending my money like that."
Speaking like a young man, Fried took in a deep breath and made a sigh.
"I left my village to win land of my own by the sword. I don't think I could die under a roof now. I am Fried Rittenmayer, part of a knightly order under Count Zenfel."
Even an old soldier had force behind his voice befitting an old soldier.
As Fried's own words seemed to deeply resonate within him, he suddenly looked in Lawrence's direction.
"I now remember that I am a knight. I forgot to take into account the most important thing."
"The most important thing?"
As Lawrence bounced the question back, Fried made no response; rather, he placed the dagger he had left on the table back on his hip and walked to one corner of the not particularly large treasure room.
And withdrawing a box from the tents and banners the count had granted him, he peeled off the crimson fabric beneath it all at once. Lawrence had assumed it was a protrusion from when the underground chamber had been constructed, but beneath that fabric appeared a large wooden crate large enough to fit an adult person inside.
As Lawrence wondered, I wonder what could be inside, his question was immediately answered.
| "This."
With that, Fried picked up the helmet, his eyes narrowing in a nostalgic look as he rubbed somewhat dented portions of it.
Perhaps, in times long past, it had gone together with Fried onto the field of battle, saving his life.
"Could you trade this for money? It might be hard to take with you due to the weight, but still."
As Fried spoke those words, he tossed the helmet in Lawrence's direction.
Having been well oiled, it had dulled somewhat, but was not rusted whatsoever. A little polish and it would once more be ready to take onto the battlefield at any moment.
But when Lawrence looked at Fried after a price came to mind in his head, Fried made an embarrassed-looking smile.
"The armor that saved my life in my younger days has to be worth something."
Lawrence had heard that when a young man leaves his home with dreams of glory, whether he wears a suit of armor or not determines if he is knight or bandit.
Like a king's cloak, simply wearing something of such high value established someone's status.
However, was it really all right to sell something like this?
With such thoughts in mind, Lawrence could not find proper words with which to reply.
"...I think it's...probably worth as much as everything else here put together...but..."
"Mm. I see, I see. If it's worth more than banners and tents for looking heroic on the field of battle, I suppose I'd look like quite a person wearing a suit like this, then."
Certainly that might be so if considering only the monetary value, but his tone made it clear he did not truly think that way. Compared to everyone risking their lives under the magnificent, embroidered crimson banner they had sworn fealty to, it was true that this dulled suit of armor bore only a tiny fraction of its former value.
It bore only the value of what was left behind with the passage of time.
He was well aware of the awful truth that things like prestige and might were fleeting things indeed.
"Fwa-ha-ha. In the old days I'd never have thought of selling my suit of armor. Yet now it is not I choking on his words in the face of it, but a traveling merchant. How amusing!"
Lawrence, his back slapped by Fried, was a tad flustered.
Perhaps it was a trick of the candlelight, but it looked to him like Fried was putting out an excessive amount of bravado.
"...To be honest, I think you have enough for traveling expenses even without selling it. Besides, all you'd need to maintain this fort is enough to pay for a mason and a gardener."
"No, it's quite fine. The count granted me knighthood for the purpose of defending this fort. If I am to leave, I shall require the armor no more."
In business, whether in towns or villages, the most difficult people to deal with were stubborn old men. Even if they looked soft, they never deviated from their pet theories. Lawrence was sensing that impression from Fried, but what made him give up on convincing him otherwise was seeing the lonely look on Fried's face from the side.
He really did not want to sell it.
However, enveloped by the accumulated memories of an old man, the suit of armor was too great a burden to bear.
How he felt was plain to see.
"Well, let's go up and have a bit of a drink. If I'm going to leave, there's some wine I want to open up first."
Lawrence told Fried in a teasing tone that his having a drink before it was even noon showed he was still as spry as he was in his younger days.
Putting the helmet back and closing the wooden box, Lawrence and Fried left the treasure room and went back up the stairs.
"I joined in a number of large battles, too. It was a war that will be remembered for a thousand years in the annals of scribes. I lost count of how many times arrows struck my helmet. When an enemy's ax bounced off my armor, the sparks thrown up made my eyes dizzy. When I was waiting to have my armor fixed one time, the blacksmith told me it was only by the grace of God that it hadn't been ripped apart."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "This."
With that, Fried picked up the helmet, his eyes narrowing in a nostalgic look as he rubbed somewhat dented portions of it.
Perhaps, in times long past, it had gone together with Fried onto the field of battle, saving his life.
"Could you trade this for money? It might be hard to take with you due to the weight, but still."
As Fried spoke those words, he tossed the helmet in Lawrence's direction.
Having been well oiled, it had dulled somewhat, but was not rusted whatsoever. A little polish and it would once more be ready to take onto the battlefield at any moment.
But when Lawrence looked at Fried after a price came to mind in his head, Fried made an embarrassed-looking smile.
"The armor that saved my life in my younger days has to be worth something."
Lawrence had heard that when a young man leaves his home with dreams of glory, whether he wears a suit of armor or not determines if he is knight or bandit.
Like a king's cloak, simply wearing something of such high value established someone's status.
However, was it really all right to sell something like this?
With such thoughts in mind, Lawrence could not find proper words with which to reply.
"...I think it's...probably worth as much as everything else here put together...but..."
"Mm. I see, I see. If it's worth more than banners and tents for looking heroic on the field of battle, I suppose I'd look like quite a person wearing a suit like this, then."
Certainly that might be so if considering only the monetary value, but his tone made it clear he did not truly think that way. Compared to everyone risking their lives under the magnificent, embroidered crimson banner they had sworn fealty to, it was true that this dulled suit of armor bore only a tiny fraction of its former value.
It bore only the value of what was left behind with the passage of time.
He was well aware of the awful truth that things like prestige and might were fleeting things indeed.
"Fwa-ha-ha. In the old days I'd never have thought of selling my suit of armor. Yet now it is not I choking on his words in the face of it, but a traveling merchant. How amusing!"
Lawrence, his back slapped by Fried, was a tad flustered.
Perhaps it was a trick of the candlelight, but it looked to him like Fried was putting out an excessive amount of bravado.
"...To be honest, I think you have enough for traveling expenses even without selling it. Besides, all you'd need to maintain this fort is enough to pay for a mason and a gardener."
"No, it's quite fine. The count granted me knighthood for the purpose of defending this fort. If I am to leave, I shall require the armor no more."
In business, whether in towns or villages, the most difficult people to deal with were stubborn old men. Even if they looked soft, they never deviated from their pet theories. Lawrence was sensing that impression from Fried, but what made him give up on convincing him otherwise was seeing the lonely look on Fried's face from the side.
He really did not want to sell it.
However, enveloped by the accumulated memories of an old man, the suit of armor was too great a burden to bear.
How he felt was plain to see.
"Well, let's go up and have a bit of a drink. If I'm going to leave, there's some wine I want to open up first."
Lawrence told Fried in a teasing tone that his having a drink before it was even noon showed he was still as spry as he was in his younger days.
Putting the helmet back and closing the wooden box, Lawrence and Fried left the treasure room and went back up the stairs.
"I joined in a number of large battles, too. It was a war that will be remembered for a thousand years in the annals of scribes. I lost count of how many times arrows struck my helmet. When an enemy's ax bounced off my armor, the sparks thrown up made my eyes dizzy. When I was waiting to have my armor fixed one time, the blacksmith told me it was only by the grace of God that it hadn't been ripped apart."
| This was absolutely not something one drank while sitting on the porch, teasing the pig while your shoes turned fluffy from the chicken pecking at them.
Fried's face broke into a smile at Lawrence's hesitation to drink.
"Truly, it was the Lord who guided this young man to me who knows the value of things!"
Speaking such words, he made a grandiose toast and emptied his glass in one gulp.
Lawrence had no choice but to drink, then.
It was so good, he wished he could spit it out into a barrel later, package it, and sell it in town.
"I truly wanted to drink this with the count once more, but it cannot be helped."
As he spoke, his laugh and his smiling face struck Lawrence not as that of an old man having lived several times longer than he, but the smiling face of a man the same age—no, younger than he, a teenager still embracing tales of heroism inside him.
Lawrence, his eyes nearly spinning from pouring more of the fine wine into his glass, feared he was drunk as he opened his mouth.
"Where do you intend to go after you leave here?"
Fried looked at Lawrence with upturned eyes at his question, looking amused as he poured wine into his own cup. Though it was wine of the sort one would drink at dinner among nobles, he greedily poured too much into the glass, leaving it to a sheep passing by to lick up what had been spilled.
"I thought I'd go visit an old friend of mine. I get letters from him from time to time. It'll take me past the monastery that's sent me necessities so nicely."
Most would drink even low-quality beer with more care.
Fried drank down half his glass and bit into a sausage.
"He was a stout man, but my friend's finally at a precarious age. It's probably my last chance to talk about old times. Also, I want to see how a town I once defended is doing now; maybe go to the church in a town I sacked long ago and atone for my sins. Even I want to go to heaven, you see."
Making a leer, it was quite charming how he made one think he was truly accustomed to the field of battle in old times. Lawrence somehow regretted that it was doubtful he would be anything like Fried when he advanced in years.
"And I thought it'd be good to live on the road like you traveling merchants, finally collapsing on some warm patch of grass somewhere for my final breaths."
Fried steered the conversation over.
"Ah, is that so..."
"You've probably had the experience. Your belly empty, lying flat on a patch of grass on a clear day thinking you might die, staring up at the sky...How strangely refreshing it is."
Fried looked up at the sky as he spoke such words.
Hearing them, Lawrence put some wine in his mouth, as if sulking a little.
For ever since setting off on his own as a merchant, he had had his eyes glued to the ground, searching for any money that might have fallen. When hungry, he had imagined boiling leather to eat or had even looked intently upon the muscular rump of his horse.
He had not been born with the manliness to stare up at the sky, arms wide, resigned to death. He could not even imagine it.
Regretting that fact, Lawrence faced forward.
"I think, I'd like to die like that if I could. But really..."
After, Lawrence felt like Fried muttered something, but he could not catch what it was.
When he prompted back, Fried had not seemed to have said anything to begin with, for he had interrupted his mumbled words by swallowing down more wine.
"What does a knight who's shown a merchant his treasure room have left to hide?"
That line seemed especially effective when used on an especially chivalrous knight.
Fried slapped his own forehead and made a hearty laugh; still sharp, he tossed a sandwich over to Stöckengurt as the pig searched for any openings.
"Ah, 'tis exactly as you say. Why, as I said all that, I surprised myself that I'm finally at the age to think that way."
As Stöckengurt drew near, wondering what else there might be, Fried fended off its snout and pushed it toward a plate left on the porch as he spoke.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | This was absolutely not something one drank while sitting on the porch, teasing the pig while your shoes turned fluffy from the chicken pecking at them.
Fried's face broke into a smile at Lawrence's hesitation to drink.
"Truly, it was the Lord who guided this young man to me who knows the value of things!"
Speaking such words, he made a grandiose toast and emptied his glass in one gulp.
Lawrence had no choice but to drink, then.
It was so good, he wished he could spit it out into a barrel later, package it, and sell it in town.
"I truly wanted to drink this with the count once more, but it cannot be helped."
As he spoke, his laugh and his smiling face struck Lawrence not as that of an old man having lived several times longer than he, but the smiling face of a man the same age—no, younger than he, a teenager still embracing tales of heroism inside him.
Lawrence, his eyes nearly spinning from pouring more of the fine wine into his glass, feared he was drunk as he opened his mouth.
"Where do you intend to go after you leave here?"
Fried looked at Lawrence with upturned eyes at his question, looking amused as he poured wine into his own cup. Though it was wine of the sort one would drink at dinner among nobles, he greedily poured too much into the glass, leaving it to a sheep passing by to lick up what had been spilled.
"I thought I'd go visit an old friend of mine. I get letters from him from time to time. It'll take me past the monastery that's sent me necessities so nicely."
Most would drink even low-quality beer with more care.
Fried drank down half his glass and bit into a sausage.
"He was a stout man, but my friend's finally at a precarious age. It's probably my last chance to talk about old times. Also, I want to see how a town I once defended is doing now; maybe go to the church in a town I sacked long ago and atone for my sins. Even I want to go to heaven, you see."
Making a leer, it was quite charming how he made one think he was truly accustomed to the field of battle in old times. Lawrence somehow regretted that it was doubtful he would be anything like Fried when he advanced in years.
"And I thought it'd be good to live on the road like you traveling merchants, finally collapsing on some warm patch of grass somewhere for my final breaths."
Fried steered the conversation over.
"Ah, is that so..."
"You've probably had the experience. Your belly empty, lying flat on a patch of grass on a clear day thinking you might die, staring up at the sky...How strangely refreshing it is."
Fried looked up at the sky as he spoke such words.
Hearing them, Lawrence put some wine in his mouth, as if sulking a little.
For ever since setting off on his own as a merchant, he had had his eyes glued to the ground, searching for any money that might have fallen. When hungry, he had imagined boiling leather to eat or had even looked intently upon the muscular rump of his horse.
He had not been born with the manliness to stare up at the sky, arms wide, resigned to death. He could not even imagine it.
Regretting that fact, Lawrence faced forward.
"I think, I'd like to die like that if I could. But really..."
After, Lawrence felt like Fried muttered something, but he could not catch what it was.
When he prompted back, Fried had not seemed to have said anything to begin with, for he had interrupted his mumbled words by swallowing down more wine.
"What does a knight who's shown a merchant his treasure room have left to hide?"
That line seemed especially effective when used on an especially chivalrous knight.
Fried slapped his own forehead and made a hearty laugh; still sharp, he tossed a sandwich over to Stöckengurt as the pig searched for any openings.
"Ah, 'tis exactly as you say. Why, as I said all that, I surprised myself that I'm finally at the age to think that way."
As Stöckengurt drew near, wondering what else there might be, Fried fended off its snout and pushed it toward a plate left on the porch as he spoke.
| Lawrence could not even imagine how long ago that had been, but Fried spoke like it was yesterday.
"I was wearing a heavy suit of armor, on an unfamiliar horse, all full of myself. It was right after I encountered the enemy and traded two or three blows of the lance. I thought I'd taken down my foe, but when I came to, I was spread out on the ground, staring at the sky. The suit was extremely heavy; tough as it was, once you fell, you couldn't get back up on your own. All I could do was wait for my comrades to rescue me or be skewered."
Lawrence was in danger of laughing as he imagined a knight like a turtle on its back.
"Of course, I was prepared to die. I hadn't even heard the sound of the impact from the fall; the only thing before my eyes was the broad, clear sky of early spring. Even though 'twas the middle of a battle, I wondered if that was heaven."
And lastly, Fried related in a low voice, "When I thought I'd felled my foe, I got so excited I fell off my horse."
Even without wearing a heavy suit of armor, it was not difficult to get killed falling from the back of a tall horse.
That he escaped with only a concussion, and had not been impaled like a fish by someone's lance, surely meant that God's grace had been with him.
However, the only words Fried did not continue were those he had begun with, "But really..."
As if realizing he was trying to pull the wool over his own eyes as well, Fried stubbornly scratched his nose and drank his wine as he watched Stöckengurt and Paule scramble for a piece of bread.
By the time he finally opened his mouth, he was on his third glass of wine.
"I have a favor to ask."
Having spent this much time with him, Lawrence could form a good idea of what he might want, as this was Fried, who had made such a lonely face in front of the armor back in the treasure room.
"Yes." Lawrence could not hide the smile on his face as he replied.
Fried's cheeks may have been red as he looked at Lawrence, but his eyes were resolute.
"Would you face me in my final battle?"
He wanted to remember old times once more before departing on his journey.
To Lawrence, entirely aware that he had a long way to go before becoming a merchant who could turn anything and everything into money without a smidgen of compassion, it was a heartwarming request.
"I am at your service."
Fried stood straight up, looking at the radiant sun.
In spite of the armor being in fair condition as a whole, it was unsurprising that the straps and leather portions had rotted with mold growing on them and had to be replaced.
Happily, Fried had fingers as skilled as any craftsman; he made straps out of leather in no time at all, and repairs proceeded apace.
During that time, Lawrence drenched linen in oil and used it to polish the helmet, armor, and gauntlets.
There were blade marks and dents all over the place. In particular, the helmet bore dents that one would think must have been instantly lethal, helmet or no.
Fried himself said with a hearty laugh, "It's strange, why didn't I die from all that?"
That often seemed to be the case for those who survived in this world.
When one died, it might be from a sharpened stick thrust into them by a child in some village.
"Let's see, how about this?"
It was well past noon when the binding of the last leather straps was complete.
As the sheep and Stöckengurt ate grass side by side in the barn in neighborly fashion, he could hear Paule making vivid calls from the back side of the fort from time to time.
The suit of armor, marks from battles past engraved in it while simultaneously polished to a sparkle, looked fine enough that even Lawrence, who walked the path of a merchant, got a little worked up inside.
How could you sell something like this?
It was enough to make him think even that.
"I'm not sure I can wear it, but..."
That was what Fried said as he and Lawrence gazed upon the suit together, but it was very obvious his voice rang false.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence could not even imagine how long ago that had been, but Fried spoke like it was yesterday.
"I was wearing a heavy suit of armor, on an unfamiliar horse, all full of myself. It was right after I encountered the enemy and traded two or three blows of the lance. I thought I'd taken down my foe, but when I came to, I was spread out on the ground, staring at the sky. The suit was extremely heavy; tough as it was, once you fell, you couldn't get back up on your own. All I could do was wait for my comrades to rescue me or be skewered."
Lawrence was in danger of laughing as he imagined a knight like a turtle on its back.
"Of course, I was prepared to die. I hadn't even heard the sound of the impact from the fall; the only thing before my eyes was the broad, clear sky of early spring. Even though 'twas the middle of a battle, I wondered if that was heaven."
And lastly, Fried related in a low voice, "When I thought I'd felled my foe, I got so excited I fell off my horse."
Even without wearing a heavy suit of armor, it was not difficult to get killed falling from the back of a tall horse.
That he escaped with only a concussion, and had not been impaled like a fish by someone's lance, surely meant that God's grace had been with him.
However, the only words Fried did not continue were those he had begun with, "But really..."
As if realizing he was trying to pull the wool over his own eyes as well, Fried stubbornly scratched his nose and drank his wine as he watched Stöckengurt and Paule scramble for a piece of bread.
By the time he finally opened his mouth, he was on his third glass of wine.
"I have a favor to ask."
Having spent this much time with him, Lawrence could form a good idea of what he might want, as this was Fried, who had made such a lonely face in front of the armor back in the treasure room.
"Yes." Lawrence could not hide the smile on his face as he replied.
Fried's cheeks may have been red as he looked at Lawrence, but his eyes were resolute.
"Would you face me in my final battle?"
He wanted to remember old times once more before departing on his journey.
To Lawrence, entirely aware that he had a long way to go before becoming a merchant who could turn anything and everything into money without a smidgen of compassion, it was a heartwarming request.
"I am at your service."
Fried stood straight up, looking at the radiant sun.
In spite of the armor being in fair condition as a whole, it was unsurprising that the straps and leather portions had rotted with mold growing on them and had to be replaced.
Happily, Fried had fingers as skilled as any craftsman; he made straps out of leather in no time at all, and repairs proceeded apace.
During that time, Lawrence drenched linen in oil and used it to polish the helmet, armor, and gauntlets.
There were blade marks and dents all over the place. In particular, the helmet bore dents that one would think must have been instantly lethal, helmet or no.
Fried himself said with a hearty laugh, "It's strange, why didn't I die from all that?"
That often seemed to be the case for those who survived in this world.
When one died, it might be from a sharpened stick thrust into them by a child in some village.
"Let's see, how about this?"
It was well past noon when the binding of the last leather straps was complete.
As the sheep and Stöckengurt ate grass side by side in the barn in neighborly fashion, he could hear Paule making vivid calls from the back side of the fort from time to time.
The suit of armor, marks from battles past engraved in it while simultaneously polished to a sparkle, looked fine enough that even Lawrence, who walked the path of a merchant, got a little worked up inside.
How could you sell something like this?
It was enough to make him think even that.
"I'm not sure I can wear it, but..."
That was what Fried said as he and Lawrence gazed upon the suit together, but it was very obvious his voice rang false.
| "Let's see, now comes the weapons. There were swords and lances in the treasure room so I'll get some. What would be best?"
As Lawrence asked, Fried thought it over a bit before replying.
"Bring one sword and one lance, then."
"One of each?"
"Aye. I'll take the sword. Would you take up the lance?"
He had only heard of young knights with robust physiques swinging swords on horseback while wearing heavy suits of armor, for it was far more sensible to use the lance on horseback in most cases, charging while bracing it.
But Lawrence went to the treasure room and carried back a sword and lance just as he was told.
As he entered the courtyard, wondering if these were fit even for mock combat without being touched up, there was a single knight of small stature before him.
What sent Lawrence into shock was not so much that Fried had put on the heavy suit of armor by himself—shocking as that was—but rather what he looked like.
The small-built Fried's upper body looked very fine with the suit of armor over it, but what he straddled was not a tall horse, but rather a sheep, calmly eating grass all the while.
"Behold my beloved ram, Edward the Second!"
Edward the Second made a "baa" with an annoyed look.
Likely, Fried himself grasped that his body was at an age where it could support neither the endurance nor the skill for riding on horseback.
But riding a sheep, let alone in that outfit, was all too comical.
As Lawrence laughed, unable to help himself, Fried let out a hearty laugh as well, saying in a loud voice, "Give me my sword!"
"I am Fried Rittenmayer under the Scarlet Eagle of Count Zenfel!"
Gripping the sword in his right hand, Fried touched the hilt against himself around his chest, holding the sword's blade up as if about to touch it to his forehead as he made a mighty shout that filled the fort.
As he made circular motions with his sword without a hint of hesitation, even as he was clad in a heavy suit of armor, it seemed his body had not forgotten how to handle a heavy sword even now.
"Raise your lance, young man!"
And then, Fried shouted.
In a hurry, Lawrence awkwardly raised the head of the unwieldy lance.
The next moment, Fried seemed to smack Edward's rump with his left hand.
As Edward raised a cry that Lawrence thought was more like a shriek, he ran forward like a surging wave.
Lawrence stood still in surprise; as Fried passed by his flank, he deftly struck the shaft of the lance with his sword.
"What's wrong, young man? Losing your nerve?"
Fried grabbed the base of the confused Edward's neck, overbearingly steering him in Lawrence's direction.
A gentlemanly old knight straddling a fluffy ram; yet he looked good enough to make one laugh.
"My sword versus your lance. Let us make clear here and now who the goddess of victory favors this day!"
Edward ran as if trying to escape the baggage on his back.
But he was just a sheep.
His hooves suddenly slowed to run rather ponderously in Lawrence's direction.
Fried raised his sword high overhead, staring straight at Lawrence's eyes all the while.
Even worked up like this, he was not brought to tears from nostalgia; he had a gentle look on his face.
Lawrence thrust the lance toward his wide-open torso. Fried swept it away, disposing of it and transferring to an offensive stance with the grace of a far younger man. Suddenly, Edward's patience seemed to snap; he lowered his head and charged with all his might.
Fried, his balance thrown off from the sudden acceleration, lurched backward due to the weight of his armor and sword. The tip of Lawrence's thrusted lance struck his head; with light resistance, it broke from the base on up.
Fried collapsed straight behind, both arms wide as he fell from Edward's back.
It was all over in an instant.
The great crashing sound woke Lawrence from his reverie; he hastily cast aside the lance's shaft and rushed to Fried's side.
"Mr. Fried!"
As Lawrence ran over, Fried was staring straight at the sky.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Let's see, now comes the weapons. There were swords and lances in the treasure room so I'll get some. What would be best?"
As Lawrence asked, Fried thought it over a bit before replying.
"Bring one sword and one lance, then."
"One of each?"
"Aye. I'll take the sword. Would you take up the lance?"
He had only heard of young knights with robust physiques swinging swords on horseback while wearing heavy suits of armor, for it was far more sensible to use the lance on horseback in most cases, charging while bracing it.
But Lawrence went to the treasure room and carried back a sword and lance just as he was told.
As he entered the courtyard, wondering if these were fit even for mock combat without being touched up, there was a single knight of small stature before him.
What sent Lawrence into shock was not so much that Fried had put on the heavy suit of armor by himself—shocking as that was—but rather what he looked like.
The small-built Fried's upper body looked very fine with the suit of armor over it, but what he straddled was not a tall horse, but rather a sheep, calmly eating grass all the while.
"Behold my beloved ram, Edward the Second!"
Edward the Second made a "baa" with an annoyed look.
Likely, Fried himself grasped that his body was at an age where it could support neither the endurance nor the skill for riding on horseback.
But riding a sheep, let alone in that outfit, was all too comical.
As Lawrence laughed, unable to help himself, Fried let out a hearty laugh as well, saying in a loud voice, "Give me my sword!"
"I am Fried Rittenmayer under the Scarlet Eagle of Count Zenfel!"
Gripping the sword in his right hand, Fried touched the hilt against himself around his chest, holding the sword's blade up as if about to touch it to his forehead as he made a mighty shout that filled the fort.
As he made circular motions with his sword without a hint of hesitation, even as he was clad in a heavy suit of armor, it seemed his body had not forgotten how to handle a heavy sword even now.
"Raise your lance, young man!"
And then, Fried shouted.
In a hurry, Lawrence awkwardly raised the head of the unwieldy lance.
The next moment, Fried seemed to smack Edward's rump with his left hand.
As Edward raised a cry that Lawrence thought was more like a shriek, he ran forward like a surging wave.
Lawrence stood still in surprise; as Fried passed by his flank, he deftly struck the shaft of the lance with his sword.
"What's wrong, young man? Losing your nerve?"
Fried grabbed the base of the confused Edward's neck, overbearingly steering him in Lawrence's direction.
A gentlemanly old knight straddling a fluffy ram; yet he looked good enough to make one laugh.
"My sword versus your lance. Let us make clear here and now who the goddess of victory favors this day!"
Edward ran as if trying to escape the baggage on his back.
But he was just a sheep.
His hooves suddenly slowed to run rather ponderously in Lawrence's direction.
Fried raised his sword high overhead, staring straight at Lawrence's eyes all the while.
Even worked up like this, he was not brought to tears from nostalgia; he had a gentle look on his face.
Lawrence thrust the lance toward his wide-open torso. Fried swept it away, disposing of it and transferring to an offensive stance with the grace of a far younger man. Suddenly, Edward's patience seemed to snap; he lowered his head and charged with all his might.
Fried, his balance thrown off from the sudden acceleration, lurched backward due to the weight of his armor and sword. The tip of Lawrence's thrusted lance struck his head; with light resistance, it broke from the base on up.
Fried collapsed straight behind, both arms wide as he fell from Edward's back.
It was all over in an instant.
The great crashing sound woke Lawrence from his reverie; he hastily cast aside the lance's shaft and rushed to Fried's side.
"Mr. Fried!"
As Lawrence ran over, Fried was staring straight at the sky.
| That he was not getting up was likely due partly to the impact he had taken to his back, but just like in the story, he probably could not get up on his own power.
As Fried looked at the sky, he spoke in a dramatic voice.
"H-has heaven finally forsaken me...?"
Fried's gaze slowly shifted to look at him.
"But if there is compassion in you..."
And with his left hand, Fried drew from his hip the dagger he had used previously.
"...would you deliver the final blow?"
This dagger was a little different than the ones traveling merchants like Lawrence employed for their daily meals, being more martial.
The dagger was sharpened along some parts; turning the crest on the hilt to him was likely an action similar to how merchants exchanged daggers when making formal written contracts.
As a noble knight, he was obligated to be noble even in defeat.
With his entire body covered in armor, slicing his neck off with a sword or impaling his chest with a lance were not realistic outcomes. Using a dagger to thrust through the gap between helmet and armor was the most logical option.
From the gravity in Fried's eyes, it did not look like he was joking.
Bewildered, Lawrence yielded to superior force of will and accepted the dagger.
And when he beheld the blade, longer and thicker than that of an everyday tool, he swallowed.
Was this really what Fried wanted? Could it be he really intended for Lawrence's hand to send him on an eternal journey?
His liege was no more; even bandits ignored him; when the privileges ran out, the people of the monastery would no longer bring necessities in. This was already a fort forgotten by all of the people of the world, home to an aging knight who had exposed his treasure room to a traveling merchant and who had a ram for a steed.
Suicide was considered indecent.
Then why not do it by another's hand?
Lawrence looked down at Fried.
A moment after he gripped the dagger hard to cover up the shaking of his hand...
...he noticed the words etched into the blade.
"God grant me mercy."
His gaze was stolen by those words carved into the blade as if they were pulling him in.
Even if a knight's pride would not tolerate defeat, it did not mean he wished for death. If he could not beg for his life with his tongue, he need only write words to that effect on the dagger meant to finish him.
Perhaps this was a culture born from the gap between honor and one's true feelings.
Exhaling, Lawrence's expression slackened as he slipped the dagger under his belt.
Upon seeing this, the strength in Fried's neck suddenly failed him; with a clang, he looked up at the sky.
His expression was not that of peace of mind, but relief.
"So I have been granted mercy, have I?"
"Yes. By a merchant."
Fried's lips twisted and he made a sigh.
"Then I should call myself a knight no longer. 'Twas a good, stirring fight."
And so, the old soldier Fried finished his preparations to leave the fort.
The rain had already stopped at some point as he finished the story.
Holo was in Lawrence's arms, resting against him and not moving in the slightest as he embraced her from behind. The sweet scent of Holo's chestnut hair rode the wind along with the wetness of the just-lifted rain, tickling Lawrence's nose.
Maybe she fell asleep?
Just as he thought it, Holo's body made a small burst of motion inside his arms.
She seemed like she was going to sneeze as he noticed the bonfire had grown much smaller.
"...Nn!"
He thought Holo was murmuring something, but she was simply making a large yawn.
Within his arms, Holo stirred and spread herself larger as the wisewolf opened her mouth toward the sky.
After making a yawn worthy of a king of the forest, she lazily half closed her eyes as she crawled to the pile of kindling and reached out with her hand. On cue, the tail that had been between Holo and Lawrence that whole time struck Lawrence's face as if on purpose.
He wondered if her yawn had been a way to cover up tears.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | That he was not getting up was likely due partly to the impact he had taken to his back, but just like in the story, he probably could not get up on his own power.
As Fried looked at the sky, he spoke in a dramatic voice.
"H-has heaven finally forsaken me...?"
Fried's gaze slowly shifted to look at him.
"But if there is compassion in you..."
And with his left hand, Fried drew from his hip the dagger he had used previously.
"...would you deliver the final blow?"
This dagger was a little different than the ones traveling merchants like Lawrence employed for their daily meals, being more martial.
The dagger was sharpened along some parts; turning the crest on the hilt to him was likely an action similar to how merchants exchanged daggers when making formal written contracts.
As a noble knight, he was obligated to be noble even in defeat.
With his entire body covered in armor, slicing his neck off with a sword or impaling his chest with a lance were not realistic outcomes. Using a dagger to thrust through the gap between helmet and armor was the most logical option.
From the gravity in Fried's eyes, it did not look like he was joking.
Bewildered, Lawrence yielded to superior force of will and accepted the dagger.
And when he beheld the blade, longer and thicker than that of an everyday tool, he swallowed.
Was this really what Fried wanted? Could it be he really intended for Lawrence's hand to send him on an eternal journey?
His liege was no more; even bandits ignored him; when the privileges ran out, the people of the monastery would no longer bring necessities in. This was already a fort forgotten by all of the people of the world, home to an aging knight who had exposed his treasure room to a traveling merchant and who had a ram for a steed.
Suicide was considered indecent.
Then why not do it by another's hand?
Lawrence looked down at Fried.
A moment after he gripped the dagger hard to cover up the shaking of his hand...
...he noticed the words etched into the blade.
"God grant me mercy."
His gaze was stolen by those words carved into the blade as if they were pulling him in.
Even if a knight's pride would not tolerate defeat, it did not mean he wished for death. If he could not beg for his life with his tongue, he need only write words to that effect on the dagger meant to finish him.
Perhaps this was a culture born from the gap between honor and one's true feelings.
Exhaling, Lawrence's expression slackened as he slipped the dagger under his belt.
Upon seeing this, the strength in Fried's neck suddenly failed him; with a clang, he looked up at the sky.
His expression was not that of peace of mind, but relief.
"So I have been granted mercy, have I?"
"Yes. By a merchant."
Fried's lips twisted and he made a sigh.
"Then I should call myself a knight no longer. 'Twas a good, stirring fight."
And so, the old soldier Fried finished his preparations to leave the fort.
The rain had already stopped at some point as he finished the story.
Holo was in Lawrence's arms, resting against him and not moving in the slightest as he embraced her from behind. The sweet scent of Holo's chestnut hair rode the wind along with the wetness of the just-lifted rain, tickling Lawrence's nose.
Maybe she fell asleep?
Just as he thought it, Holo's body made a small burst of motion inside his arms.
She seemed like she was going to sneeze as he noticed the bonfire had grown much smaller.
"...Nn!"
He thought Holo was murmuring something, but she was simply making a large yawn.
Within his arms, Holo stirred and spread herself larger as the wisewolf opened her mouth toward the sky.
After making a yawn worthy of a king of the forest, she lazily half closed her eyes as she crawled to the pile of kindling and reached out with her hand. On cue, the tail that had been between Holo and Lawrence that whole time struck Lawrence's face as if on purpose.
He wondered if her yawn had been a way to cover up tears.
| "So...this place has been deserted ever since?"
Midway, Holo cleared her throat as she spoke, as if she had not raised her voice in quite a while.
"I believe so. On one hand, Mr. Fried did say he had some regrets so would try to find someone he could push the deed and rights to the fort onto, but it doesn't look like that worked out very well."
After all, the two things that kept territorial disputes going were that barren land remained barren forever and fertile land was limited.
Even though this was an iron law of the world, seeing it firsthand did make one feel a bit desolate.
Without any warning, Holo tossed kindling into the bonfire, sending sparks dancing far and wide.
"Perhaps 'tis the way the world flows, so to speak."
Holo spoke in an oddly candid tone as she rose to her feet and looked at the sky.
"There is nothing that does not change. All we can do is appreciate that which is right before our eyes. Something like that?"
If that is what Holo, who had lived for centuries, said, Lawrence, having lived a couple of decades and change, could say no differently.
But Wisewolf Holo of Yoitsu seemed slightly embarrassed to have only come up with that line after several centuries of life.
She turned toward him, made an awkward smile, and said..."I'm hungry."
Lawrence made an exasperated smile as he brought out bread and sausage. Eating at night like this was more of a luxury than breakfast, but being tired from speaking so much, Lawrence was hungry, too.
As he drew his dagger and brought it to the sausage, Lawrence suddenly felt her gaze upon him and brought his face up.
As Holo looked down at him with a malicious smile, she said this:
"And how much mercy shall you grant, I wonder?"
For a moment, he did not catch her meaning, but when his gaze fell to his hands, he immediately understood.
It was Holo the glutton versus Lawrence the diligent, stingy merchant. The thickness of the cut of the sausage was a compromise between their mutual interests.
Holo was demanding mercy in the form of thick sausage; Lawrence was asking for her to be merciful in not eating any more of it.
With the blade still resting on the sausage, Lawrence did not look toward Holo as he opened his mouth.
"Are you telling me to stop being a merchant?"
He positioned the blade for a shallow cut of sausage.
Just as it seemed a little more pressure would tear the thin skin, Holo spoke to him with amusement.
"When that happens, I shall finish you off myself."
Then, as Holo squatted in front of Lawrence, she gently took hold of the blade and moved it into position to make a cut of sausage twice as thick.
Right before his eyes, her large amber eyes bore a mischievous look.
Surely even Fried the knight would have surrendered.
Lawrence put his strength into the hand that held the dagger.
"Ohh, God grant me mercy."
Holo smiled in satisfaction.
A building quickly fell into ruin without human hands to maintain it. Surely a person's smile would soon falter if there was no good food to maintain it. That was especially true for this wisewolf.
Amazed at the excuses he made to himself, Lawrence sliced a thick cut of sausage and offered it to Holo.
Whatever happened, someday the end would come, and they would part.
If that could not be avoided, he at least wanted to keep a smile on her face until that moment came.
"O Lord, grant thy mercy to this foolish traveling merchant."
As Lawrence muttered, the reflection of the moonlight gave the dagger a dull glint.
End
***
Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo were arguing again.
The cause was not allotting Miss Holo enough meat in her stew for supper.
For his part, Mr. Lawrence said he was subtracting equal to the dried meat she had snatched and eaten. For her part, Miss Holo said, "You have some nerve, do you have any proof," and so forth.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "So...this place has been deserted ever since?"
Midway, Holo cleared her throat as she spoke, as if she had not raised her voice in quite a while.
"I believe so. On one hand, Mr. Fried did say he had some regrets so would try to find someone he could push the deed and rights to the fort onto, but it doesn't look like that worked out very well."
After all, the two things that kept territorial disputes going were that barren land remained barren forever and fertile land was limited.
Even though this was an iron law of the world, seeing it firsthand did make one feel a bit desolate.
Without any warning, Holo tossed kindling into the bonfire, sending sparks dancing far and wide.
"Perhaps 'tis the way the world flows, so to speak."
Holo spoke in an oddly candid tone as she rose to her feet and looked at the sky.
"There is nothing that does not change. All we can do is appreciate that which is right before our eyes. Something like that?"
If that is what Holo, who had lived for centuries, said, Lawrence, having lived a couple of decades and change, could say no differently.
But Wisewolf Holo of Yoitsu seemed slightly embarrassed to have only come up with that line after several centuries of life.
She turned toward him, made an awkward smile, and said..."I'm hungry."
Lawrence made an exasperated smile as he brought out bread and sausage. Eating at night like this was more of a luxury than breakfast, but being tired from speaking so much, Lawrence was hungry, too.
As he drew his dagger and brought it to the sausage, Lawrence suddenly felt her gaze upon him and brought his face up.
As Holo looked down at him with a malicious smile, she said this:
"And how much mercy shall you grant, I wonder?"
For a moment, he did not catch her meaning, but when his gaze fell to his hands, he immediately understood.
It was Holo the glutton versus Lawrence the diligent, stingy merchant. The thickness of the cut of the sausage was a compromise between their mutual interests.
Holo was demanding mercy in the form of thick sausage; Lawrence was asking for her to be merciful in not eating any more of it.
With the blade still resting on the sausage, Lawrence did not look toward Holo as he opened his mouth.
"Are you telling me to stop being a merchant?"
He positioned the blade for a shallow cut of sausage.
Just as it seemed a little more pressure would tear the thin skin, Holo spoke to him with amusement.
"When that happens, I shall finish you off myself."
Then, as Holo squatted in front of Lawrence, she gently took hold of the blade and moved it into position to make a cut of sausage twice as thick.
Right before his eyes, her large amber eyes bore a mischievous look.
Surely even Fried the knight would have surrendered.
Lawrence put his strength into the hand that held the dagger.
"Ohh, God grant me mercy."
Holo smiled in satisfaction.
A building quickly fell into ruin without human hands to maintain it. Surely a person's smile would soon falter if there was no good food to maintain it. That was especially true for this wisewolf.
Amazed at the excuses he made to himself, Lawrence sliced a thick cut of sausage and offered it to Holo.
Whatever happened, someday the end would come, and they would part.
If that could not be avoided, he at least wanted to keep a smile on her face until that moment came.
"O Lord, grant thy mercy to this foolish traveling merchant."
As Lawrence muttered, the reflection of the moonlight gave the dagger a dull glint.
End
***
Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo were arguing again.
The cause was not allotting Miss Holo enough meat in her stew for supper.
For his part, Mr. Lawrence said he was subtracting equal to the dried meat she had snatched and eaten. For her part, Miss Holo said, "You have some nerve, do you have any proof," and so forth.
| Even so, Mr. Lawrence had no way of knowing that; so when pressed for evidence, he was at a loss for words. I thought if I said I saw the whole thing, the circumstances would have been turned on their head.
I did no such thing, because I thought it might have been some kind of scheme of Miss Holo's.
After all, she was a wolf god known as the wisewolf who had lived centuries.
Miss Holo pressed even harder. "Any proof?"
With an unpleasant look, Mr. Lawrence drew in his chin and said, "None." After glaring at Mr. Lawrence for a while, Miss Holo snorted a "hmph" and turned aside. Afterward, she declared it her natural right and pulled a handful of dried meat out of the pouch.
I had witnessed this kind of back-and-forth many times ever since they allowed me to travel with them.
Though arguments could begin based on a few words and on the slightest of misunderstandings, there were also many cases like this where Miss Holo was clearly at fault. At first, it made me very nervous, but lately I had become quite accustomed to it, so I just turn away from them ever so slightly and think little of it.
This time, too, Mr. Lawrence made a sigh and Miss Holo turned away in annoyance. Perhaps Miss Holo did not recognize what she was doing as bad behavior. Even though I think that if thoughts between you differ, you should just talk things over properly, for some reason, neither of them did.
But even though their gazes were averted so as to not look at the other, I felt like they were closer to each other than before the argument, maybe because they were both leaning forward a bit.
It was a sight I did not see much of in my village.
When in town, there were multiple options for supper, like a tavern or the dining hall of an inn, but Mr. Lawrence wanted to eat in his room at the inn as much as possible.
When eating in the room of an inn, it was usually cooking using ingredients he had procured for low prices that he brought to the dining hall to be cooked. If you asked him, he would say it was cheaper that way. He would also say, even if there was not enough and he asked for extras, he could still keep expenses down that way.
He would add with a strained smile that this was particularly important since he had someone with him who ate and drank her fill.
As if Miss Holo knew why Mr. Lawrence did not go to the dining halls or taverns to eat, she drank her wine as if it was precious. When eating in a room and finished drinking her allotted wine, she never got any more, no matter how much she sulked like a spoiled child. All Mr. Lawrence did was open his waterskin and present it to her without any expression.
When Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo argued, they did not shout and throw things at each other like I often saw back at the village; they just suddenly stopped talking. They did not meet each other's eyes, behaving like there was no one else there. Back in my village, when people had an argument, it was like both people concerned had started a fire, and as a rule, the neighbors did not approach until it had burned itself out, since valuable things always seemed to get broken.
Instead of doing things like that, even as Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo gave each other the cold shoulder, they were able to talk to others with smiling faces right away. Judging from their faces, you would think there had been nothing but fun times since getting up that morning.
After that, as if each's existence had been exiled from the other's head, they were able to completely ignore the other as if it was truly second nature. Even if Mr. Lawrence broke down first during the ignore-the-other contest that followed, calling out to Miss Holo over and over, it was all for nothing if her mood had not improved. Her tone, posture, and eye movements were completely natural as she joked with me and ignored Mr. Lawrence.
At first, how they were both exceptionally adept at making composed smiles even while angry looked a little creepy to me.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Even so, Mr. Lawrence had no way of knowing that; so when pressed for evidence, he was at a loss for words. I thought if I said I saw the whole thing, the circumstances would have been turned on their head.
I did no such thing, because I thought it might have been some kind of scheme of Miss Holo's.
After all, she was a wolf god known as the wisewolf who had lived centuries.
Miss Holo pressed even harder. "Any proof?"
With an unpleasant look, Mr. Lawrence drew in his chin and said, "None." After glaring at Mr. Lawrence for a while, Miss Holo snorted a "hmph" and turned aside. Afterward, she declared it her natural right and pulled a handful of dried meat out of the pouch.
I had witnessed this kind of back-and-forth many times ever since they allowed me to travel with them.
Though arguments could begin based on a few words and on the slightest of misunderstandings, there were also many cases like this where Miss Holo was clearly at fault. At first, it made me very nervous, but lately I had become quite accustomed to it, so I just turn away from them ever so slightly and think little of it.
This time, too, Mr. Lawrence made a sigh and Miss Holo turned away in annoyance. Perhaps Miss Holo did not recognize what she was doing as bad behavior. Even though I think that if thoughts between you differ, you should just talk things over properly, for some reason, neither of them did.
But even though their gazes were averted so as to not look at the other, I felt like they were closer to each other than before the argument, maybe because they were both leaning forward a bit.
It was a sight I did not see much of in my village.
When in town, there were multiple options for supper, like a tavern or the dining hall of an inn, but Mr. Lawrence wanted to eat in his room at the inn as much as possible.
When eating in the room of an inn, it was usually cooking using ingredients he had procured for low prices that he brought to the dining hall to be cooked. If you asked him, he would say it was cheaper that way. He would also say, even if there was not enough and he asked for extras, he could still keep expenses down that way.
He would add with a strained smile that this was particularly important since he had someone with him who ate and drank her fill.
As if Miss Holo knew why Mr. Lawrence did not go to the dining halls or taverns to eat, she drank her wine as if it was precious. When eating in a room and finished drinking her allotted wine, she never got any more, no matter how much she sulked like a spoiled child. All Mr. Lawrence did was open his waterskin and present it to her without any expression.
When Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo argued, they did not shout and throw things at each other like I often saw back at the village; they just suddenly stopped talking. They did not meet each other's eyes, behaving like there was no one else there. Back in my village, when people had an argument, it was like both people concerned had started a fire, and as a rule, the neighbors did not approach until it had burned itself out, since valuable things always seemed to get broken.
Instead of doing things like that, even as Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo gave each other the cold shoulder, they were able to talk to others with smiling faces right away. Judging from their faces, you would think there had been nothing but fun times since getting up that morning.
After that, as if each's existence had been exiled from the other's head, they were able to completely ignore the other as if it was truly second nature. Even if Mr. Lawrence broke down first during the ignore-the-other contest that followed, calling out to Miss Holo over and over, it was all for nothing if her mood had not improved. Her tone, posture, and eye movements were completely natural as she joked with me and ignored Mr. Lawrence.
At first, how they were both exceptionally adept at making composed smiles even while angry looked a little creepy to me.
| After we ate, by the time I put into order the utensils we had borrowed from the inn, went to return them to the kitchen, and came back, Mr. Lawrence was coming out to refill a pitcher of water.
I simply could not hold it in anymore and told him about Miss Holo.
Once I did so, Mr. Lawrence made a surprised expression, indeed acting as if there had been no argument whatsoever.
"Mm? Holo did?"
"Yes...Er, I felt that it really wasn't good for me to keep quiet about it..."
The Church teaches us that God sees all our actions, so it is futile to try and hide what we do. However, as we do not possess eyes like those of God, the truth remains hidden from a great many people.
In my village, lies were punished by having one's rump smacked with a supple bow.
It was literally beaten into you that when holed up by snow in the middle of winter, when bears and wolves roamed the mountains, even the smallest lie or concealed thing could bring about nigh-unimaginable disaster.
I have encountered many lies and concealed things since descending from the mountains, but I still believe such things must be rectified.
All the more so because I had eaten the slice of dried meat that Miss Holo pushed onto me.
"Yeah, I know."
But with a smile, that was what Mr. Lawrence said to me.
"Ah? But Mr. Lawrence, you..."
"Certainly if you insist on my providing proof, I have none, but we're down four pieces of dried meat. Perhaps Holo ate three and you ate the other one?"
As he beat me to it, I brought my fingertip up to my forehead.
Mr. Lawrence, who was well versed in dense passages from scripture, seemed able to recall exactly what he had of everything.
"...I'm sorry."
After speaking, I hung my head.
In my village, if you stole food, they even made you stand naked outside of the house.
But Mr. Lawrence made a wry smile and placed the pitcher in his hand on top of my head.
"Holo made you eat it, didn't she?"
That was exactly what happened, but the fact this was what Mr. Lawrence believed actually made me a little concerned.
"Am I wrong?"
Quickly lowering my upturned eyes, I made a small shake of my head.
"I trust you, and that's why I don't doubt what you said."
When I lifted my head, Mr. Lawrence had a smiling face very typical of him.
"Besides, even Holo must vaguely realize that I count the slices of dry meat."
"Ah?"
Mr. Lawrence removed the pitcher from my head and spoke as he walked.
As I spoke back in surprise, I followed right behind Mr. Lawrence, awaiting his reply.
"It's not as if I thought I was putting her on trial and determining her guilt or innocence. I'm not that hard up for money."
Mr. Lawrence opened the door that led to the courtyard and went outside.
It was a moonlit night, seemingly blotting out the oil lantern in his hand with ease.
"But on a journey, if you let your guard down over and over, that can lead to disaster someday. For example, in a critical situation, you might have to give up on something because you're just a little short on money or something similar.
"You understand, don't you?"
As I nodded, Mr. Lawrence nodded back.
I thought that these were very important words.
But after Mr. Lawrence made a satisfied face at my reaction, he turned gloomy.
"But she's extremely narrow-minded about some things, you see. I have no objection to simple childishness, but she'll probably get hardheaded if I prove impropriety to her face."
I wondered if that was really true for Miss Holo, a wolf so sublime as to be called wisewolf.
Though that was what I thought, Mr. Lawrence sighed and slumped his shoulders and, drawing close to my face, said this:
"If I back her into a corner and say, 'You swiped the food, didn't you?' she'd acknowledge it, yes. And after, when taking the slightest break and offered food, there's no doubt in my mind she'd say, 'Is this not swiping food?' Moreover, she'd go, 'Is it all right to eat this?' or something, and even 'This, my boy, this is a trap,' wouldn't she?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | After we ate, by the time I put into order the utensils we had borrowed from the inn, went to return them to the kitchen, and came back, Mr. Lawrence was coming out to refill a pitcher of water.
I simply could not hold it in anymore and told him about Miss Holo.
Once I did so, Mr. Lawrence made a surprised expression, indeed acting as if there had been no argument whatsoever.
"Mm? Holo did?"
"Yes...Er, I felt that it really wasn't good for me to keep quiet about it..."
The Church teaches us that God sees all our actions, so it is futile to try and hide what we do. However, as we do not possess eyes like those of God, the truth remains hidden from a great many people.
In my village, lies were punished by having one's rump smacked with a supple bow.
It was literally beaten into you that when holed up by snow in the middle of winter, when bears and wolves roamed the mountains, even the smallest lie or concealed thing could bring about nigh-unimaginable disaster.
I have encountered many lies and concealed things since descending from the mountains, but I still believe such things must be rectified.
All the more so because I had eaten the slice of dried meat that Miss Holo pushed onto me.
"Yeah, I know."
But with a smile, that was what Mr. Lawrence said to me.
"Ah? But Mr. Lawrence, you..."
"Certainly if you insist on my providing proof, I have none, but we're down four pieces of dried meat. Perhaps Holo ate three and you ate the other one?"
As he beat me to it, I brought my fingertip up to my forehead.
Mr. Lawrence, who was well versed in dense passages from scripture, seemed able to recall exactly what he had of everything.
"...I'm sorry."
After speaking, I hung my head.
In my village, if you stole food, they even made you stand naked outside of the house.
But Mr. Lawrence made a wry smile and placed the pitcher in his hand on top of my head.
"Holo made you eat it, didn't she?"
That was exactly what happened, but the fact this was what Mr. Lawrence believed actually made me a little concerned.
"Am I wrong?"
Quickly lowering my upturned eyes, I made a small shake of my head.
"I trust you, and that's why I don't doubt what you said."
When I lifted my head, Mr. Lawrence had a smiling face very typical of him.
"Besides, even Holo must vaguely realize that I count the slices of dry meat."
"Ah?"
Mr. Lawrence removed the pitcher from my head and spoke as he walked.
As I spoke back in surprise, I followed right behind Mr. Lawrence, awaiting his reply.
"It's not as if I thought I was putting her on trial and determining her guilt or innocence. I'm not that hard up for money."
Mr. Lawrence opened the door that led to the courtyard and went outside.
It was a moonlit night, seemingly blotting out the oil lantern in his hand with ease.
"But on a journey, if you let your guard down over and over, that can lead to disaster someday. For example, in a critical situation, you might have to give up on something because you're just a little short on money or something similar.
"You understand, don't you?"
As I nodded, Mr. Lawrence nodded back.
I thought that these were very important words.
But after Mr. Lawrence made a satisfied face at my reaction, he turned gloomy.
"But she's extremely narrow-minded about some things, you see. I have no objection to simple childishness, but she'll probably get hardheaded if I prove impropriety to her face."
I wondered if that was really true for Miss Holo, a wolf so sublime as to be called wisewolf.
Though that was what I thought, Mr. Lawrence sighed and slumped his shoulders and, drawing close to my face, said this:
"If I back her into a corner and say, 'You swiped the food, didn't you?' she'd acknowledge it, yes. And after, when taking the slightest break and offered food, there's no doubt in my mind she'd say, 'Is this not swiping food?' Moreover, she'd go, 'Is it all right to eat this?' or something, and even 'This, my boy, this is a trap,' wouldn't she?"
| I could not say with confidence, "No, she would never do that"; they certainly did seem like things Miss Holo might say.
Overwhelmed by Mr. Lawrence that I was, I found it mysterious that, however great the dread on Mr. Lawrence's face, I did not see a single shred of dislike for Miss Holo upon it.
"That's why I don't need to back her that far into a corner and drive the fact I count all the food in like it's a nail. Holo's no idiot. If I gently point it out, even she'll stop swiping food after a while; a few cross words to me doesn't mean any genuine conflict. Besides..."
Lawrence drew the bucket out of the well and poured cold water into the pitcher.
"It makes it a little harder for her to beg for food and wine when the going gets a little rough, doesn't it?"
I nodded in admiration.
It was definitely so, I thought, for Miss Holo was indeed stubborn about certain things.
"Goodness. She should know exactly what happens when you're not prepared and trouble strikes...She really is quite troublesome."
Holding the pitcher, nearly full to the brim, Mr. Lawrence made a heavy sigh.
"Where would she be if I wasn't the one traveling with her?"
In the corridor, someone was passing through who was apparently a merchant who knew Mr. Lawrence, so I took the pitcher and returned to the room in his place.
When I arrived back, Miss Holo was glugging down her wine as if still holding a grudge as she sat on the bed, grooming her tail.
"Mm. Water?"
"Would you like some?"
As I inquired, Miss Holo nodded. Beginning to drink water apparently meant she was done drinking wine for that day.
Drinking wine alone made you thirsty, but treating it by drinking more wine would not put a stop to that. "Even fools treat thirst with water," she would always say.
Just as I was looking around the room for a small container to open, Miss Holo reached her hand out to me. Then, she took the pitcher, put it to her lips, and began to drink. Even though she drank the water as heartily as any wine, she did not spill even a single drop.
I thought to myself that she was not very drunk today, for I had often seen Mr. Lawrence hurrying to wipe water dripping from the corner of her mouth.
"Phew. 'Tis nothing quite like cold water."
Making a burp that greatly resembled a hiccup, she cackled as she tendered the pitcher.
I took it and put it on top of the table.
It seemed Miss Holo's mood was not terribly foul at present.
"So, what of that fool?"
"Mr. Lawrence, you mean? He seems to be speaking to a merchant he's acquaintances with downstairs..."
Do you want me to call him? I nearly asked, but I stopped myself.
I had learned a thing or two about how Miss Holo operated, too.
"Hmph. 'Tis good if he does not stick his neck into strange schemes again..."
Her eyes fell upon her fluffy tail; seeming to see some hair that was about to shed, she pulled it out with a light tug and blew it away with her breath. Then, she made a great yawn, raising her arms in a stretch that looked like it felt good from where I stood.
"...Ah. So, did you tell him about me, lad?"
As she examined the sandals sitting on a chair, Miss Holo launched one of her usual ambushes.
I could not feign innocence like Mr. Lawrence could.
Taken back by surprise, I looked toward Miss Holo.
"Heh-heh. I am not upset."
There were times you could do naught but trust the smile on Miss Holo's face.
Even now, there were times when I guessed wrong, but I thought today's was genuine.
"Did he say something, then?"
Miss Holo put the tankard with wine in it onto the floor and pushed it into the corner.
Usually, this was a signal she was going right to sleep.
But she crossed her legs and sat on top of the bed, putting her elbows on top of her knees and resting her chin upon her palms with a bored look.
"Er...ah, that's..."
Of course I remembered, since it was only moments before, but if I told her all of it there would probably be another argument.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | I could not say with confidence, "No, she would never do that"; they certainly did seem like things Miss Holo might say.
Overwhelmed by Mr. Lawrence that I was, I found it mysterious that, however great the dread on Mr. Lawrence's face, I did not see a single shred of dislike for Miss Holo upon it.
"That's why I don't need to back her that far into a corner and drive the fact I count all the food in like it's a nail. Holo's no idiot. If I gently point it out, even she'll stop swiping food after a while; a few cross words to me doesn't mean any genuine conflict. Besides..."
Lawrence drew the bucket out of the well and poured cold water into the pitcher.
"It makes it a little harder for her to beg for food and wine when the going gets a little rough, doesn't it?"
I nodded in admiration.
It was definitely so, I thought, for Miss Holo was indeed stubborn about certain things.
"Goodness. She should know exactly what happens when you're not prepared and trouble strikes...She really is quite troublesome."
Holding the pitcher, nearly full to the brim, Mr. Lawrence made a heavy sigh.
"Where would she be if I wasn't the one traveling with her?"
In the corridor, someone was passing through who was apparently a merchant who knew Mr. Lawrence, so I took the pitcher and returned to the room in his place.
When I arrived back, Miss Holo was glugging down her wine as if still holding a grudge as she sat on the bed, grooming her tail.
"Mm. Water?"
"Would you like some?"
As I inquired, Miss Holo nodded. Beginning to drink water apparently meant she was done drinking wine for that day.
Drinking wine alone made you thirsty, but treating it by drinking more wine would not put a stop to that. "Even fools treat thirst with water," she would always say.
Just as I was looking around the room for a small container to open, Miss Holo reached her hand out to me. Then, she took the pitcher, put it to her lips, and began to drink. Even though she drank the water as heartily as any wine, she did not spill even a single drop.
I thought to myself that she was not very drunk today, for I had often seen Mr. Lawrence hurrying to wipe water dripping from the corner of her mouth.
"Phew. 'Tis nothing quite like cold water."
Making a burp that greatly resembled a hiccup, she cackled as she tendered the pitcher.
I took it and put it on top of the table.
It seemed Miss Holo's mood was not terribly foul at present.
"So, what of that fool?"
"Mr. Lawrence, you mean? He seems to be speaking to a merchant he's acquaintances with downstairs..."
Do you want me to call him? I nearly asked, but I stopped myself.
I had learned a thing or two about how Miss Holo operated, too.
"Hmph. 'Tis good if he does not stick his neck into strange schemes again..."
Her eyes fell upon her fluffy tail; seeming to see some hair that was about to shed, she pulled it out with a light tug and blew it away with her breath. Then, she made a great yawn, raising her arms in a stretch that looked like it felt good from where I stood.
"...Ah. So, did you tell him about me, lad?"
As she examined the sandals sitting on a chair, Miss Holo launched one of her usual ambushes.
I could not feign innocence like Mr. Lawrence could.
Taken back by surprise, I looked toward Miss Holo.
"Heh-heh. I am not upset."
There were times you could do naught but trust the smile on Miss Holo's face.
Even now, there were times when I guessed wrong, but I thought today's was genuine.
"Did he say something, then?"
Miss Holo put the tankard with wine in it onto the floor and pushed it into the corner.
Usually, this was a signal she was going right to sleep.
But she crossed her legs and sat on top of the bed, putting her elbows on top of her knees and resting her chin upon her palms with a bored look.
"Er...ah, that's..."
Of course I remembered, since it was only moments before, but if I told her all of it there would probably be another argument.
| "Well, he said he can't provide any proof, but he does know you ate it..."
After gazing straight at me, scrutinizing every word, Miss Holo went "Hmph!" and turned aside.
"Goodness, he truly is a fool."
Then, she made a large sigh.
"He does not understand in the slightest why I swiped the food."
"...Ah?"
"Mm? Could it be that even you think all I was doing was having a snack?"
Miss Holo's ears were fearsome ears that could pick up anything.
I nodded, venturing no excuse, tilting my head a bit as I looked at Miss Holo.
"My word, these males are just..." Miss Holo rocked forward, grimacing as if enduring a headache.
She fell from the bed, but my worry was of course needless; she deftly put a hand to the floor, reached her other hand out to the wine, taking it in her hand as she rose up in one swoop.
"I am certainly aware of his side. 'Tis not good to swipe food and waste it, it might cost us when in a real pinch, and so forth?"
It being exactly as she said, I nodded as if wondering if she was angry with me.
"Of course I understand that. But I do not think 'tis necessary to be so narrow-minded about each and every little thing. I did not steal food that we have but a limited supply. A few slices of dried meat shall hardly be missed."
Miss Holo had a valid point as well, I thought.
Mr. Lawrence's preparedness was important, but to always be that way was stifling.
Even in my village, it was said good hunters must keep their guard up at all times, but when night falls, the good hunters are the hunters who sleep well.
Even the Church teaches that excessive austerity is no virtue.
"I think it a good thing if that fool lightens up a little. When I first met that fool, he was so greedy that he would not overlook even a nail fallen upon the road. He did not even eat properly, focusing everything on making money, neglecting even his own life. If you do such things long enough, your mind shall split and you shall make a terrible mistake."
As Miss Holo finished the last part, she guzzled down some wine.
Though she had a great love of wine, it did not look so tasty when she drank it alone.
"Human life is short. Those who do not enjoy themselves when it is time to do so die with scowls on their faces."
Then she muttered, "Goodness," as she drank the seemingly bitter wine.
I looked at Miss Holo as if I was admiring her.
No, I really was admiring her.
Miss Holo lived a very long time. She had no doubt watched the lives of many souls.
I thought she had likely seen some who prepared for any future eventuality, yet had not lived long lives as a result. If that was so, they had likely never had the time to use any of what they had piled higher and higher, dying without ever enjoying themselves.
Certainly, Mr. Lawrence always made a pained face at Miss Holo's propensity to eat and drink her fill until she could no longer move. But in the end, he was greatly enjoying having Miss Holo with him. "It can't be helped," "Might as well enjoy it after having come this far," and so on.
Apparently Miss Holo was not behaving like this out of self-indulgence; she truly believed Mr. Lawrence's obstinate aspects ought to be mended.
I reflected upon the fact that I had not noticed this whatsoever.
"Well, if I said this to his face, he'd no doubt think he is the wise one. He'd likely say, no, you're the one who's mistaken. That is why I must very slightly play the fool, loosening him up whether he likes it or not. Yet even though this wisewolf is doing so much for him, truly that fool is..."
As I thought to myself, I feel like I've heard something like this before, Miss Holo made a large burp and said this:
"What would happen to that fool if I was not traveling with him?"
Miss Holo was already up when I awoke the next morning.
She had opened the inn's shutters and placed bread crumbs from last night on the windowsill that attracted small birds.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Well, he said he can't provide any proof, but he does know you ate it..."
After gazing straight at me, scrutinizing every word, Miss Holo went "Hmph!" and turned aside.
"Goodness, he truly is a fool."
Then, she made a large sigh.
"He does not understand in the slightest why I swiped the food."
"...Ah?"
"Mm? Could it be that even you think all I was doing was having a snack?"
Miss Holo's ears were fearsome ears that could pick up anything.
I nodded, venturing no excuse, tilting my head a bit as I looked at Miss Holo.
"My word, these males are just..." Miss Holo rocked forward, grimacing as if enduring a headache.
She fell from the bed, but my worry was of course needless; she deftly put a hand to the floor, reached her other hand out to the wine, taking it in her hand as she rose up in one swoop.
"I am certainly aware of his side. 'Tis not good to swipe food and waste it, it might cost us when in a real pinch, and so forth?"
It being exactly as she said, I nodded as if wondering if she was angry with me.
"Of course I understand that. But I do not think 'tis necessary to be so narrow-minded about each and every little thing. I did not steal food that we have but a limited supply. A few slices of dried meat shall hardly be missed."
Miss Holo had a valid point as well, I thought.
Mr. Lawrence's preparedness was important, but to always be that way was stifling.
Even in my village, it was said good hunters must keep their guard up at all times, but when night falls, the good hunters are the hunters who sleep well.
Even the Church teaches that excessive austerity is no virtue.
"I think it a good thing if that fool lightens up a little. When I first met that fool, he was so greedy that he would not overlook even a nail fallen upon the road. He did not even eat properly, focusing everything on making money, neglecting even his own life. If you do such things long enough, your mind shall split and you shall make a terrible mistake."
As Miss Holo finished the last part, she guzzled down some wine.
Though she had a great love of wine, it did not look so tasty when she drank it alone.
"Human life is short. Those who do not enjoy themselves when it is time to do so die with scowls on their faces."
Then she muttered, "Goodness," as she drank the seemingly bitter wine.
I looked at Miss Holo as if I was admiring her.
No, I really was admiring her.
Miss Holo lived a very long time. She had no doubt watched the lives of many souls.
I thought she had likely seen some who prepared for any future eventuality, yet had not lived long lives as a result. If that was so, they had likely never had the time to use any of what they had piled higher and higher, dying without ever enjoying themselves.
Certainly, Mr. Lawrence always made a pained face at Miss Holo's propensity to eat and drink her fill until she could no longer move. But in the end, he was greatly enjoying having Miss Holo with him. "It can't be helped," "Might as well enjoy it after having come this far," and so on.
Apparently Miss Holo was not behaving like this out of self-indulgence; she truly believed Mr. Lawrence's obstinate aspects ought to be mended.
I reflected upon the fact that I had not noticed this whatsoever.
"Well, if I said this to his face, he'd no doubt think he is the wise one. He'd likely say, no, you're the one who's mistaken. That is why I must very slightly play the fool, loosening him up whether he likes it or not. Yet even though this wisewolf is doing so much for him, truly that fool is..."
As I thought to myself, I feel like I've heard something like this before, Miss Holo made a large burp and said this:
"What would happen to that fool if I was not traveling with him?"
Miss Holo was already up when I awoke the next morning.
She had opened the inn's shutters and placed bread crumbs from last night on the windowsill that attracted small birds.
| Besides, I knew that Miss Holo truly was very kind. She was considerate to me about all kinds of things; sometimes she even told Mr. Lawrence things in my place that I found very difficult to say.
She was mean to me just as much, but since Miss Holo always seemed to be having fun from the bottom of her heart, she probably did not think it was mean. After all, she did not tease even Mr. Lawrence all the time.
As I got up out of bed, I saw that Mr. Lawrence was sound asleep in the adjacent bed. Even though Mr. Lawrence was in the middle of sleep, his forelocks were in perfect order. Miss Holo, with her chin on her palms at the window, most likely knew why they were like that.
"What, 'tis the lad who awoke first?"
As Miss Holo noticed me and said that, she seemed a little sleepy.
Those words seemed to make the little birds pecking at the bread crumbs realize that Miss Holo was right beside them. With shrill cries, they hopped up and flew off.
Miss Holo lazily watched the heartless little birds as they departed; it felt like she was saying "My, my" as she rose from her seat.
"Now then...slap the fool awake and get breakfast, perhaps?"
She cracked her wrists, finally making a sigh and a snort.
Though her face lacked expression, she seemed somehow amused; no doubt she enjoyed waking Mr. Lawrence up.
I pretended not to notice the eager sway of her tail as she drank cold water out of a pitcher.
In short order, Mr. Lawrence was waking up with a start while Miss Holo made a cackling laugh.
"—nsherned you shay?"
It was a little before noon when Mr. Lawrence entered the room and Miss Holo parroted the words back at him.
Her strange way of speaking was because she still had dried meat in her mouth.
In spite of that, his composure did not waver an inch.
However, perhaps I might say, that is Mr. Lawrence for you. After all, the dried meat Holo was gnawing on was broken out from Miss Holo's personal supply.
When I heard Miss Holo rummaging around and saw her taking out the dried meat and gnawing on it, I exclaimed, "Ah!" but Miss Holo made a conspiratorial laugh and explained it to me.
She seemed to have done it with the intent of Mr. Lawrence seeing that and admonishing her, with her answer to give her great bragging rights.
Miss Holo's tail wiggled all around when Mr. Lawrence failed to fall into her trap.
"Yesterday I ran into an old acquaintance of a merchant in the corridor, and he asked me to help with something."
"Then should you not do it?"
As Miss Holo spoke those words, she returned to her everyday tail grooming.
Since she combed it several times a day, it was a comely tail indeed.
However, Miss Holo was being uncooperative beyond reason, like a princess withdrawing from a conversation.
"You're free, aren't you?"
Immediately one of Miss Holo's sharp ears stood straight up. It was as if to say, "Aye, try saying that again," but Mr. Lawrence simply slumped his shoulders.
"Um, can I do it?"
I was not doing anything in particular, and since they were both taking such good care of me, I wanted to help where I could.
I did not mind physical labor; it was the simple, boring chores that made you stronger.
"Mm? Ah yes, you'd be plenty of help, Col. Can I count on you?"
"Yes!"
Since I did not have many opportunities to be useful, I leaped up at this one.
As Mr. Lawrence beckoned with his hand, I tossed on my overcoat and hurried to the doorway.
"What will I be doing?"
As I asked, Mr. Lawrence spoke rather casually. "It's merely counting some gold coins. There's a fair amount, but you're strong in math so I'm not at all concerned."
I knew that this was high praise coming from Mr. Lawrence, but such considerate words were ticklish. Before meeting Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo, I would have wondered if I was being mocked, deceived, or perhaps both.
"I'll do my best!"
"Ha-ha. You'll be fine even without the enthusiasm."
And as Mr. Lawrence was escorting me out of the room, his feet suddenly came to a halt.
"So?" Mr. Lawrence said curtly.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Besides, I knew that Miss Holo truly was very kind. She was considerate to me about all kinds of things; sometimes she even told Mr. Lawrence things in my place that I found very difficult to say.
She was mean to me just as much, but since Miss Holo always seemed to be having fun from the bottom of her heart, she probably did not think it was mean. After all, she did not tease even Mr. Lawrence all the time.
As I got up out of bed, I saw that Mr. Lawrence was sound asleep in the adjacent bed. Even though Mr. Lawrence was in the middle of sleep, his forelocks were in perfect order. Miss Holo, with her chin on her palms at the window, most likely knew why they were like that.
"What, 'tis the lad who awoke first?"
As Miss Holo noticed me and said that, she seemed a little sleepy.
Those words seemed to make the little birds pecking at the bread crumbs realize that Miss Holo was right beside them. With shrill cries, they hopped up and flew off.
Miss Holo lazily watched the heartless little birds as they departed; it felt like she was saying "My, my" as she rose from her seat.
"Now then...slap the fool awake and get breakfast, perhaps?"
She cracked her wrists, finally making a sigh and a snort.
Though her face lacked expression, she seemed somehow amused; no doubt she enjoyed waking Mr. Lawrence up.
I pretended not to notice the eager sway of her tail as she drank cold water out of a pitcher.
In short order, Mr. Lawrence was waking up with a start while Miss Holo made a cackling laugh.
"—nsherned you shay?"
It was a little before noon when Mr. Lawrence entered the room and Miss Holo parroted the words back at him.
Her strange way of speaking was because she still had dried meat in her mouth.
In spite of that, his composure did not waver an inch.
However, perhaps I might say, that is Mr. Lawrence for you. After all, the dried meat Holo was gnawing on was broken out from Miss Holo's personal supply.
When I heard Miss Holo rummaging around and saw her taking out the dried meat and gnawing on it, I exclaimed, "Ah!" but Miss Holo made a conspiratorial laugh and explained it to me.
She seemed to have done it with the intent of Mr. Lawrence seeing that and admonishing her, with her answer to give her great bragging rights.
Miss Holo's tail wiggled all around when Mr. Lawrence failed to fall into her trap.
"Yesterday I ran into an old acquaintance of a merchant in the corridor, and he asked me to help with something."
"Then should you not do it?"
As Miss Holo spoke those words, she returned to her everyday tail grooming.
Since she combed it several times a day, it was a comely tail indeed.
However, Miss Holo was being uncooperative beyond reason, like a princess withdrawing from a conversation.
"You're free, aren't you?"
Immediately one of Miss Holo's sharp ears stood straight up. It was as if to say, "Aye, try saying that again," but Mr. Lawrence simply slumped his shoulders.
"Um, can I do it?"
I was not doing anything in particular, and since they were both taking such good care of me, I wanted to help where I could.
I did not mind physical labor; it was the simple, boring chores that made you stronger.
"Mm? Ah yes, you'd be plenty of help, Col. Can I count on you?"
"Yes!"
Since I did not have many opportunities to be useful, I leaped up at this one.
As Mr. Lawrence beckoned with his hand, I tossed on my overcoat and hurried to the doorway.
"What will I be doing?"
As I asked, Mr. Lawrence spoke rather casually. "It's merely counting some gold coins. There's a fair amount, but you're strong in math so I'm not at all concerned."
I knew that this was high praise coming from Mr. Lawrence, but such considerate words were ticklish. Before meeting Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo, I would have wondered if I was being mocked, deceived, or perhaps both.
"I'll do my best!"
"Ha-ha. You'll be fine even without the enthusiasm."
And as Mr. Lawrence was escorting me out of the room, his feet suddenly came to a halt.
"So?" Mr. Lawrence said curtly.
| When I turned around, it was just as Miss Holo, who but a moment before had been gnawing on dried meat, grooming her tail, was pulling her robe out of the luggage.
"I shall go, for you will be lonely without me."
I met Mr. Lawrence's face and made a small smile.
Of course, this was not overlooked by Miss Holo, for in the corridor she stomped on my foot.
In the end, the three of us left the inn, making our way to the inn the merchant concerned was staying at.
Outside, it was very bright and warm.
It was bustling from so many people being out; everyone was full of life in the morning.
Miss Holo was showing great interest in stalls she spotted through the spaces in the crowd; had Mr. Lawrence not been holding her hand, she would probably have gotten lost like a child. If I asked her what in the world she was doing, she would have probably been mean to me again so I held my tongue, but Miss Holo truly seemed to be having fun as usual.
"So what was all this?"
"A merchant I know asked for help tabulating his money."
It was a vaguer explanation than he had given me, but Miss Holo, as if she thought it was fine as it was, went "Hmph," nodded, and scratched the base of her ear through the hood of her robe.
"And why did he ask you to do such a thing?"
"Apparently he's not close to any of the money changers in this town. His deal ended well, but he's unfamiliar with the currencies here, he said. So he asked me to sort out the coins and show him in broad terms how to convert them efficiently; he can't learn without seeing it for himself."
Miss Holo listened to Lawrence's explanation, though it felt unclear whether she was really listening or not. I was not an expert on trade, but I did know it was very complicated to exchange a mountain of differing varieties of coin. When I was studying in the scholarly city of Aquent, there were people who told silver coins apart by biting them. They told me they had been fooled by counterfeits made from rusting pieces of steel. They added, "You can tell steel by the taste, so you'd better learn it, too."
I told Mr. Lawrence the story, to which he made a great laugh.
"That brings me back. My teacher did that a lot to cheat me out of my allowance."
This shocked me quite a bit, but Mr. Lawrence looked like he had had a great deal of fun.
That master and pupil to deceive each other by such means made me admire what an amazing profession being a merchant was.
However, Miss Holo yawned as she listened to the story, saying this at the end:
"So that is how you became so gutless?"
"I'd rather you said 'watchful.'"
"Ha!"
Actually, I really liked the way Miss Holo laughed when she was mocking someone.
That was because she looked so malicious and yet so very pretty.
Even as Mr. Lawrence drew his head back a little, he surely understood that any rebuttal would dig a deeper hole.
He politely held back his words and walked forward.
He was devoting himself to silence to avoid an argument.
I thought Mr. Lawrence came off very well, too. Miss Holo harshly dubbed him a cowardly fool, though.
"Ahh, ahh, thank you for coming. And you brought such a charming apprentice, too."
It was indeed a portly, middle-aged merchant who greeted them at the inn.
I was unaccustomed to the hat he was wearing; when I asked about it, he indicated it was from a land far to the east. Apparently it was a harsh land that was dry year-round, a place of both extreme heat and extreme cold.
Certainly, the gentleman was very kind, but I felt he would be quite frightening if angered. It was an atmosphere I saw much of in my village.
"This is Holo, who I travel with for a few odd reasons, and Col."
"I am Holo."
"Tote Col."
When Miss Holo and I introduced ourselves, the gentleman went "Mm, mm," as his wrinkled face made a nod.
Perhaps he had grandchildren around our ages.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | When I turned around, it was just as Miss Holo, who but a moment before had been gnawing on dried meat, grooming her tail, was pulling her robe out of the luggage.
"I shall go, for you will be lonely without me."
I met Mr. Lawrence's face and made a small smile.
Of course, this was not overlooked by Miss Holo, for in the corridor she stomped on my foot.
In the end, the three of us left the inn, making our way to the inn the merchant concerned was staying at.
Outside, it was very bright and warm.
It was bustling from so many people being out; everyone was full of life in the morning.
Miss Holo was showing great interest in stalls she spotted through the spaces in the crowd; had Mr. Lawrence not been holding her hand, she would probably have gotten lost like a child. If I asked her what in the world she was doing, she would have probably been mean to me again so I held my tongue, but Miss Holo truly seemed to be having fun as usual.
"So what was all this?"
"A merchant I know asked for help tabulating his money."
It was a vaguer explanation than he had given me, but Miss Holo, as if she thought it was fine as it was, went "Hmph," nodded, and scratched the base of her ear through the hood of her robe.
"And why did he ask you to do such a thing?"
"Apparently he's not close to any of the money changers in this town. His deal ended well, but he's unfamiliar with the currencies here, he said. So he asked me to sort out the coins and show him in broad terms how to convert them efficiently; he can't learn without seeing it for himself."
Miss Holo listened to Lawrence's explanation, though it felt unclear whether she was really listening or not. I was not an expert on trade, but I did know it was very complicated to exchange a mountain of differing varieties of coin. When I was studying in the scholarly city of Aquent, there were people who told silver coins apart by biting them. They told me they had been fooled by counterfeits made from rusting pieces of steel. They added, "You can tell steel by the taste, so you'd better learn it, too."
I told Mr. Lawrence the story, to which he made a great laugh.
"That brings me back. My teacher did that a lot to cheat me out of my allowance."
This shocked me quite a bit, but Mr. Lawrence looked like he had had a great deal of fun.
That master and pupil to deceive each other by such means made me admire what an amazing profession being a merchant was.
However, Miss Holo yawned as she listened to the story, saying this at the end:
"So that is how you became so gutless?"
"I'd rather you said 'watchful.'"
"Ha!"
Actually, I really liked the way Miss Holo laughed when she was mocking someone.
That was because she looked so malicious and yet so very pretty.
Even as Mr. Lawrence drew his head back a little, he surely understood that any rebuttal would dig a deeper hole.
He politely held back his words and walked forward.
He was devoting himself to silence to avoid an argument.
I thought Mr. Lawrence came off very well, too. Miss Holo harshly dubbed him a cowardly fool, though.
"Ahh, ahh, thank you for coming. And you brought such a charming apprentice, too."
It was indeed a portly, middle-aged merchant who greeted them at the inn.
I was unaccustomed to the hat he was wearing; when I asked about it, he indicated it was from a land far to the east. Apparently it was a harsh land that was dry year-round, a place of both extreme heat and extreme cold.
Certainly, the gentleman was very kind, but I felt he would be quite frightening if angered. It was an atmosphere I saw much of in my village.
"This is Holo, who I travel with for a few odd reasons, and Col."
"I am Holo."
"Tote Col."
When Miss Holo and I introduced ourselves, the gentleman went "Mm, mm," as his wrinkled face made a nod.
Perhaps he had grandchildren around our ages.
| He spoke resentfully, but I understood very well what he meant, having had my own terrible experiences at the hands of money changers. Only Miss Holo asked Mr. Lawrence, "Was that one at the town back then ill-natured, I wonder?"
Mr. Lawrence thought about it for a while and replied, "That money changer was a real villain."
Most likely, Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo were speaking of a money changer at a town they had visited before on their journey. I could not even imagine what kind of money changer it took for Mr. Lawrence, with such a breadth of knowledge about the world, both in front of and behind the curtain, to call him a villain.
But I wondered why Miss Holo looked somehow amused. Perhaps, like a knight, she was more worked up the mightier the foe.
There were many things I still did not understand.
"So, can I ask you to get this done as soon as possible? Actually, there's a money order from a comrade I need to settle by tomorrow. There's too many people who push this job and that onto their elders, I tell you. This is why I hate traveling."
"It just shows how much they trust you. Understood."
"Right this way, then..."
And so, the gentleman showed us to the inn room where he was staying.
"Mm."
"Ooh."
***
The moment we entered the room, the three of us were at a loss for words.
In spite of being about the same size as the room where we were staying, it was just overflowing with things: bundles of rolled-up fabric; bundles of furs fastened with ropes; and bulging flaxen sacks with their mouths closed strewn all over the floor, filled with different kinds of beans so far as I could tell. There were other things I did not understand at all, but I picked out a number of crates, making me wonder just what kind of business this man was into; I really could not tell.
But what struck us dumbfounded was most likely not that, but rather the mass of coins, a mountain, piled atop a large table likely at its limits.
"Bwa-ha-ha! How about it. Surprised?"
The gentleman's shoulders shook as he made a droll laugh.
Though he seemed every bit a little boy playing a prank, the proud smile on his face was indeed that of a greedy and exceptionally skilled merchant.
Though Mr. Lawrence, too, had sucked in his breath, when I glanced up at the side of his face, he looked composed as he stared straight at the top of the table, seeming to calculate in his head. In Aquent, there were a great many people who devoted themselves to thinking, but I thought that sometimes, the side of Mr. Lawrence's face looked like those of exceptional people I had seen in that town.
It had been famously said the front of the face can lie, but the side cannot.
Miss Holo mocked and made fun of Mr. Lawrence quite often, but I thought Mr. Lawrence was an excellent merchant himself.
"There's quite a bit of coins all over the place here...and with old ones mixed in, too."
"Yes. That makes it difficult. My traveling companion is a merchant about the same level as I. I had a deal for the guild to send someone to do the accounting, but he was completely useless. I have to think it's our willingness to stick our own necks into danger that makes us into merchants."
When the gentleman smiled, his teeth poked out, with several off-color like a set of mismatched coins.
In the village, it was taught that men became like stone as they advanced in years. Therefore, it was taught, one should age gracefully so that even if you truly became stone and you were on display forever, you would have nothing to be ashamed of.
Surely, even if this gentleman became stone then and there, he had the look of a merchant whom travelers could only admire.
"Also, this merchandise...You bought up a whole warehouse from some company hard on its luck?"
"Ah?"
I was the only one surprised. When the gazes of everyone else there assembled onto me, I realized that my face was red.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He spoke resentfully, but I understood very well what he meant, having had my own terrible experiences at the hands of money changers. Only Miss Holo asked Mr. Lawrence, "Was that one at the town back then ill-natured, I wonder?"
Mr. Lawrence thought about it for a while and replied, "That money changer was a real villain."
Most likely, Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo were speaking of a money changer at a town they had visited before on their journey. I could not even imagine what kind of money changer it took for Mr. Lawrence, with such a breadth of knowledge about the world, both in front of and behind the curtain, to call him a villain.
But I wondered why Miss Holo looked somehow amused. Perhaps, like a knight, she was more worked up the mightier the foe.
There were many things I still did not understand.
"So, can I ask you to get this done as soon as possible? Actually, there's a money order from a comrade I need to settle by tomorrow. There's too many people who push this job and that onto their elders, I tell you. This is why I hate traveling."
"It just shows how much they trust you. Understood."
"Right this way, then..."
And so, the gentleman showed us to the inn room where he was staying.
"Mm."
"Ooh."
***
The moment we entered the room, the three of us were at a loss for words.
In spite of being about the same size as the room where we were staying, it was just overflowing with things: bundles of rolled-up fabric; bundles of furs fastened with ropes; and bulging flaxen sacks with their mouths closed strewn all over the floor, filled with different kinds of beans so far as I could tell. There were other things I did not understand at all, but I picked out a number of crates, making me wonder just what kind of business this man was into; I really could not tell.
But what struck us dumbfounded was most likely not that, but rather the mass of coins, a mountain, piled atop a large table likely at its limits.
"Bwa-ha-ha! How about it. Surprised?"
The gentleman's shoulders shook as he made a droll laugh.
Though he seemed every bit a little boy playing a prank, the proud smile on his face was indeed that of a greedy and exceptionally skilled merchant.
Though Mr. Lawrence, too, had sucked in his breath, when I glanced up at the side of his face, he looked composed as he stared straight at the top of the table, seeming to calculate in his head. In Aquent, there were a great many people who devoted themselves to thinking, but I thought that sometimes, the side of Mr. Lawrence's face looked like those of exceptional people I had seen in that town.
It had been famously said the front of the face can lie, but the side cannot.
Miss Holo mocked and made fun of Mr. Lawrence quite often, but I thought Mr. Lawrence was an excellent merchant himself.
"There's quite a bit of coins all over the place here...and with old ones mixed in, too."
"Yes. That makes it difficult. My traveling companion is a merchant about the same level as I. I had a deal for the guild to send someone to do the accounting, but he was completely useless. I have to think it's our willingness to stick our own necks into danger that makes us into merchants."
When the gentleman smiled, his teeth poked out, with several off-color like a set of mismatched coins.
In the village, it was taught that men became like stone as they advanced in years. Therefore, it was taught, one should age gracefully so that even if you truly became stone and you were on display forever, you would have nothing to be ashamed of.
Surely, even if this gentleman became stone then and there, he had the look of a merchant whom travelers could only admire.
"Also, this merchandise...You bought up a whole warehouse from some company hard on its luck?"
"Ah?"
I was the only one surprised. When the gazes of everyone else there assembled onto me, I realized that my face was red.
| I understood from Mr. Lawrence's slumping his shoulders that this was surely not worthy of overwhelming praise.
But the gentleman took it as admiration and looked very proud.
Looking at the two of them, I felt like I was watching two children who had enjoyed pranks who had grown into adults wholly unchanged.
I thought that was something to be quite envious of, but Miss Holo did not seem all that fond of it.
Even at a time like this, she had a bored look as she poked the hilt of a sword in its sheath with the tip of her finger.
"We'll be as much help as we possibly can. But with so much, I'm not quite as confident so...I need a visual reference. Holo, sorry but could you go get the pouch with coins in it from the inn?"
Miss Holo lifted her head from a shield adorned with pretty decorations, looking at Mr. Lawrence, then at me.
She must have thought, Why not make the lad do something so tiresome like that?
But.
"Mm. The one you always use to compare by eye?"
Miss Holo asked with a display of humility that astonished me. "That's the one. Sorry, but thanks."
"Mm."
Miss Holo nodded briskly, heading out of the room at a jog.
Though I did not understand whatsoever the circumstances swirling around, I wondered if perhaps the coins were too valuable to be entrusted to me.
That made me a little sad, but it stood to reason.
"Now then, Col."
That was when Mr. Lawrence's voice leaped out.
"This one, this one...and this one; shouldn't be any question for these. Take the same type as these and line them up in piles of ten."
"Right!"
I made my reply and got to work.
As the coins on the table had already been roughly divided into copper, silver, and gold coins, we strove to sort out the valuable gold and silver coins.
Since there were several silver and gold coins that closely resembled one another, plus subtle differences depending on the date of minting, it seemed quite a few coins were mixed up with others. Scales and measuring boxes full of water were methods for rigorous distinction, but it was best to sort by hand as much we could.
Seeming well aware of these circumstances, the gentleman said, "A lot of money's riding on getting the fine details right." Though this meant Mr. Lawrence was doing so-called assistant's work, he made a pained smile that revealed no special dislike.
I did as Mr. Lawrence had told me, proceeding to divide silver coins alone. Furthermore, since these were different enough that there could be no mistake, my work proceeded fairly smoothly.
For sorting the gold coins, Mr. Lawrence gave instructions to the gentleman, with both doing it together.
When taught something you do not know, you should be cordial and pay proper respect, even to someone younger.
This is what the learned men of Aquent taught, but I thought it very unlikely that they could follow their own precept.
As a result, I had thought that it might not be possible, but in fact, it was possible.
Merchants might be liars, but they are forthright to about the same extent.
"Hmmm. The gold coins are fine like this."
"It seems so. The problem is the silver coins."
The pair of experienced merchants had apparently divided the gold coins up in what seemed no time at all.
As my eyes widened, both merchants came to my side, making small grunts as they sat.
"Ah, you're making good time here. There's no need to rush; accuracy is what's important for this."
"Right, right. Rushing won't make more of them. Though when you don't close your purse quickly, you find yourself a few short!"
With that, the gentleman made a loud laugh.
He seemed in spirits high enough to live another few centuries.
"Now then, you have to watch out for this one and that one. This is counterfeit; that one's from a rival religion."
"Hmph. Today's men in high places do things just like the old ones."
"Well, I suppose so."
The gentleman made an exaggerated slump of his shoulders and a large sigh.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | I understood from Mr. Lawrence's slumping his shoulders that this was surely not worthy of overwhelming praise.
But the gentleman took it as admiration and looked very proud.
Looking at the two of them, I felt like I was watching two children who had enjoyed pranks who had grown into adults wholly unchanged.
I thought that was something to be quite envious of, but Miss Holo did not seem all that fond of it.
Even at a time like this, she had a bored look as she poked the hilt of a sword in its sheath with the tip of her finger.
"We'll be as much help as we possibly can. But with so much, I'm not quite as confident so...I need a visual reference. Holo, sorry but could you go get the pouch with coins in it from the inn?"
Miss Holo lifted her head from a shield adorned with pretty decorations, looking at Mr. Lawrence, then at me.
She must have thought, Why not make the lad do something so tiresome like that?
But.
"Mm. The one you always use to compare by eye?"
Miss Holo asked with a display of humility that astonished me. "That's the one. Sorry, but thanks."
"Mm."
Miss Holo nodded briskly, heading out of the room at a jog.
Though I did not understand whatsoever the circumstances swirling around, I wondered if perhaps the coins were too valuable to be entrusted to me.
That made me a little sad, but it stood to reason.
"Now then, Col."
That was when Mr. Lawrence's voice leaped out.
"This one, this one...and this one; shouldn't be any question for these. Take the same type as these and line them up in piles of ten."
"Right!"
I made my reply and got to work.
As the coins on the table had already been roughly divided into copper, silver, and gold coins, we strove to sort out the valuable gold and silver coins.
Since there were several silver and gold coins that closely resembled one another, plus subtle differences depending on the date of minting, it seemed quite a few coins were mixed up with others. Scales and measuring boxes full of water were methods for rigorous distinction, but it was best to sort by hand as much we could.
Seeming well aware of these circumstances, the gentleman said, "A lot of money's riding on getting the fine details right." Though this meant Mr. Lawrence was doing so-called assistant's work, he made a pained smile that revealed no special dislike.
I did as Mr. Lawrence had told me, proceeding to divide silver coins alone. Furthermore, since these were different enough that there could be no mistake, my work proceeded fairly smoothly.
For sorting the gold coins, Mr. Lawrence gave instructions to the gentleman, with both doing it together.
When taught something you do not know, you should be cordial and pay proper respect, even to someone younger.
This is what the learned men of Aquent taught, but I thought it very unlikely that they could follow their own precept.
As a result, I had thought that it might not be possible, but in fact, it was possible.
Merchants might be liars, but they are forthright to about the same extent.
"Hmmm. The gold coins are fine like this."
"It seems so. The problem is the silver coins."
The pair of experienced merchants had apparently divided the gold coins up in what seemed no time at all.
As my eyes widened, both merchants came to my side, making small grunts as they sat.
"Ah, you're making good time here. There's no need to rush; accuracy is what's important for this."
"Right, right. Rushing won't make more of them. Though when you don't close your purse quickly, you find yourself a few short!"
With that, the gentleman made a loud laugh.
He seemed in spirits high enough to live another few centuries.
"Now then, you have to watch out for this one and that one. This is counterfeit; that one's from a rival religion."
"Hmph. Today's men in high places do things just like the old ones."
"Well, I suppose so."
The gentleman made an exaggerated slump of his shoulders and a large sigh.
| Even in the middle of a town, there would be cowardly thugs after your things if you let your guard down.
I did not think Miss Holo, of all people, would have her things taken by highwaymen, but nonetheless, I was getting worried.
But Mr. Lawrence did not seem to be paying that much concern. In the end, Miss Holo arrived back a short time later.
"Sorry about that."
As Mr. Lawrence, still sorting out silver coins, displayed his gratitude, Miss Holo curtly nodded.
Somehow, it felt like the back and forth between a master and a dutiful apprentice.
I watched Miss Holo, quiet with her hood pulled down, as if watching something somewhat mysterious.
"All right, line the contents up over there."
***
Miss Holo nodded briskly and stepped closer to the table. Mr. Lawrence had indicated where silver coins were in neat rows in piles of ten. Normally, Miss Holo would probably make a great laugh and send the piles of silver coins crashing down with one swipe of her tail, but of course, she did not do so here.
Instead, she pulled something out of her robe and put it on the table as Mr. Lawrence had asked.
I instantly doubted my own eyes.
For Miss Holo had taken out a very familiar carrying bag—mine.
"Don't mix them up with the others."
Mr. Lawrence said it casually with a small smile. His eyes narrowed as he smiled, like an old man displaying his affection for a beloved granddaughter. Beside Mr. Lawrence and the rest of us, Miss Holo untied the cord of my carrying bag. In addition, my carrying bag, made for carrying over my shoulder, was tied with two cords: one around the mouth of the sack and another tied around the base of the bag forming a large ring.
What Miss Holo had untied just now was the cord of the bottom; she had laid the bag onto the table on its mouth.
Even as I thought there was no way Miss Holo would make a basic mistake like that, I was somewhat concerned and was about to raise my voice.
That was when Mr. Lawrence spoke to me.
"Ah, that silver coin is wrong."
"Ah? Oh."
I had put one with a lily drawn on it where the ones with lilies and moons drawn on them went.
As I hurried to fix that, I confirmed that I had not made any similar mistakes.
"You'll make mistakes if your eyes stray."
Lowering my eyes as the gentleman, sitting across me, admonished me with his gaze, I resumed my work.
I needed to worry about myself, not others. If I failed here, it would only cause trouble for Mr. Lawrence. Furthermore, I was a hundred years too young to be worrying about Miss Holo.
Right after I had that thought...
"Ah, hey, Holo!"
"Mm, uh?"
It was the instant Mr. Lawrence rose from his chair in haste and stretched his hand toward Miss Holo. The carrying bag Miss Holo had untied with her own hands began to move according to the laws of nature.
As Miss Holo slowly drew the cord out, the contents, lightly held up, now had nothing to support them and came crashing down onto the table. And just like when dropping a leather pouch full of water, the contents did not simply fall and crash, but sought an outlet to pour out of.
The carrying bag's mouth had only been lightly tied.
The heavy silver coins inside easily broke through the dam, flying out toward greener pastures.
It was all in the blink of an eye.
When I regained my senses, Miss Holo was absentmindedly holding the now-empty sack as she stood before the spilled contents of the bag.
"Ahh, what are you doing, you fool!" Mr. Lawrence disparaged Miss Holo.
Under the hood, Miss Holo's face drew back and exploded.
I reflexively cowered, but I did not hear Miss Holo yell, "Fool!" Instead, she looked at Mr. Lawrence like a frightened child and began scooping up the spilled silver coins from the mountain of silver coins piled up on the table.
However, one could not separate iron powder from sand without special implements. The task before Miss Holo was all the harder because several of the coins were the same varieties as those that had been lined up on the table.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Even in the middle of a town, there would be cowardly thugs after your things if you let your guard down.
I did not think Miss Holo, of all people, would have her things taken by highwaymen, but nonetheless, I was getting worried.
But Mr. Lawrence did not seem to be paying that much concern. In the end, Miss Holo arrived back a short time later.
"Sorry about that."
As Mr. Lawrence, still sorting out silver coins, displayed his gratitude, Miss Holo curtly nodded.
Somehow, it felt like the back and forth between a master and a dutiful apprentice.
I watched Miss Holo, quiet with her hood pulled down, as if watching something somewhat mysterious.
"All right, line the contents up over there."
***
Miss Holo nodded briskly and stepped closer to the table. Mr. Lawrence had indicated where silver coins were in neat rows in piles of ten. Normally, Miss Holo would probably make a great laugh and send the piles of silver coins crashing down with one swipe of her tail, but of course, she did not do so here.
Instead, she pulled something out of her robe and put it on the table as Mr. Lawrence had asked.
I instantly doubted my own eyes.
For Miss Holo had taken out a very familiar carrying bag—mine.
"Don't mix them up with the others."
Mr. Lawrence said it casually with a small smile. His eyes narrowed as he smiled, like an old man displaying his affection for a beloved granddaughter. Beside Mr. Lawrence and the rest of us, Miss Holo untied the cord of my carrying bag. In addition, my carrying bag, made for carrying over my shoulder, was tied with two cords: one around the mouth of the sack and another tied around the base of the bag forming a large ring.
What Miss Holo had untied just now was the cord of the bottom; she had laid the bag onto the table on its mouth.
Even as I thought there was no way Miss Holo would make a basic mistake like that, I was somewhat concerned and was about to raise my voice.
That was when Mr. Lawrence spoke to me.
"Ah, that silver coin is wrong."
"Ah? Oh."
I had put one with a lily drawn on it where the ones with lilies and moons drawn on them went.
As I hurried to fix that, I confirmed that I had not made any similar mistakes.
"You'll make mistakes if your eyes stray."
Lowering my eyes as the gentleman, sitting across me, admonished me with his gaze, I resumed my work.
I needed to worry about myself, not others. If I failed here, it would only cause trouble for Mr. Lawrence. Furthermore, I was a hundred years too young to be worrying about Miss Holo.
Right after I had that thought...
"Ah, hey, Holo!"
"Mm, uh?"
It was the instant Mr. Lawrence rose from his chair in haste and stretched his hand toward Miss Holo. The carrying bag Miss Holo had untied with her own hands began to move according to the laws of nature.
As Miss Holo slowly drew the cord out, the contents, lightly held up, now had nothing to support them and came crashing down onto the table. And just like when dropping a leather pouch full of water, the contents did not simply fall and crash, but sought an outlet to pour out of.
The carrying bag's mouth had only been lightly tied.
The heavy silver coins inside easily broke through the dam, flying out toward greener pastures.
It was all in the blink of an eye.
When I regained my senses, Miss Holo was absentmindedly holding the now-empty sack as she stood before the spilled contents of the bag.
"Ahh, what are you doing, you fool!" Mr. Lawrence disparaged Miss Holo.
Under the hood, Miss Holo's face drew back and exploded.
I reflexively cowered, but I did not hear Miss Holo yell, "Fool!" Instead, she looked at Mr. Lawrence like a frightened child and began scooping up the spilled silver coins from the mountain of silver coins piled up on the table.
However, one could not separate iron powder from sand without special implements. The task before Miss Holo was all the harder because several of the coins were the same varieties as those that had been lined up on the table.
| An awkward silence fell over the room.
I forgot to breathe and waited for someone to speak.
The gentleman cleared his throat.
"I'm not upset. In exchange, is it all right if I decide how many silver coins there were? Looks aside, I'm still going strong up here."
The gentleman pointed to his own head as he spoke.
Though a merchant's words were never to be taken at face value, it was true that the gentleman did not appear upset. He had probably counted them while we were piling them up.
Mr. Lawrence, looking like he wanted to say something to Miss Holo, shut his mouth and nodded toward the gentleman.
"Sorry. I can't have you saying I inflated the numbers in the confusion."
"Ha-ha. I'd say the same thing even if there was a written count."
"Is there any proof I ate the dried meat?"
That is what Miss Holo had asked at the inn.
In this world, irrefutable proof rarely existed.
"That's thirty-two Ladeon Diocese silver pieces; fifty-five Mitzfing Cathedral silver pieces; forty-one Archduke Dandren Enthronement silver pieces; and finally, eighty-five silver trenni pieces."
As the gentleman listed them off, he gave Mr. Lawrence a somewhat sleepy look when he reached the last part. "The same as I recall."
As Mr. Lawrence replied, the gentleman made a broad grin before shifting his gaze toward Miss Holo.
"That's how it is. Don't be concerned; just separate that many coins out. If you make a mistake, correct your mistake and you will be forgiven, for the Lord is generous."
The last part was a famous line from scripture.
As Miss Holo nodded, Mr. Lawrence emerged from behind, extending the hand nearest to the table.
Without a word, Mr. Lawrence pointed out the silver coins concerned and assisted with the work. Clang, ching—the sounds peculiar to silver coins reverberated, almost as if they were crying.
The gentleman seemed satisfied as he gazed at Miss Holo and Mr. Lawrence's work.
And when he suddenly looked in my direction, his smile grew even stronger as he said this:
"Lad. What did your master tell you earlier?"
I resumed my work in a hurry.
Miss Holo finished sorting out the silver coins that had been jumbled together around the same time I finished sorting out the gentleman's remaining silver coins.
"Good. Splendid."
Looking at the coins neatly piled on top of the table, the gentleman spoke with pride.
"Glory to God."
Afterward, Mr. Lawrence used reference samples to make a more detailed classification, focusing on those he considered especially troublesome. Mr. Lawrence said that this was all that could be instantly recognized on sight and to please consult a proper money changer with proper scales for an expert opinion on the others.
The gentleman seemed quite satisfied with just this, nodding with a smile on his face.
And as the three of us were preparing to depart from the inn, he handed Mr. Lawrence a small leather pouch.
"You've been a real help."
As Mr. Lawrence's hand accepted the pouch, the gentleman clasped both hands around his with a good-natured smile on his face. "Call if you need anything else," Mr. Lawrence said with a smile; then they parted.
I had been sure that we were going to have dinner together, but it did not feel like that at all. I could not really tell if they got along well or poorly. Perhaps relationships between merchants just aren't like that, I thought, committing it to memory.
Besides, there were other things pressing on my mind far more.
The first was: Why did Miss Holo put coins in my carrying bag and bring it over?
The second was: Why in the world did Miss Holo make a blunder even worse than mine?
"Goodness."
As I pondered these things, Mr. Lawrence finally opened his mouth.
For a moment, I was startled, wondering if he was referring to the words inside my head, but Mr. Lawrence had spoken after opening the pouch from the gentleman and placing the contents atop his open palm.
"That's a well-known miser for you. Made us work like money changers and this is all he pays us."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | An awkward silence fell over the room.
I forgot to breathe and waited for someone to speak.
The gentleman cleared his throat.
"I'm not upset. In exchange, is it all right if I decide how many silver coins there were? Looks aside, I'm still going strong up here."
The gentleman pointed to his own head as he spoke.
Though a merchant's words were never to be taken at face value, it was true that the gentleman did not appear upset. He had probably counted them while we were piling them up.
Mr. Lawrence, looking like he wanted to say something to Miss Holo, shut his mouth and nodded toward the gentleman.
"Sorry. I can't have you saying I inflated the numbers in the confusion."
"Ha-ha. I'd say the same thing even if there was a written count."
"Is there any proof I ate the dried meat?"
That is what Miss Holo had asked at the inn.
In this world, irrefutable proof rarely existed.
"That's thirty-two Ladeon Diocese silver pieces; fifty-five Mitzfing Cathedral silver pieces; forty-one Archduke Dandren Enthronement silver pieces; and finally, eighty-five silver trenni pieces."
As the gentleman listed them off, he gave Mr. Lawrence a somewhat sleepy look when he reached the last part. "The same as I recall."
As Mr. Lawrence replied, the gentleman made a broad grin before shifting his gaze toward Miss Holo.
"That's how it is. Don't be concerned; just separate that many coins out. If you make a mistake, correct your mistake and you will be forgiven, for the Lord is generous."
The last part was a famous line from scripture.
As Miss Holo nodded, Mr. Lawrence emerged from behind, extending the hand nearest to the table.
Without a word, Mr. Lawrence pointed out the silver coins concerned and assisted with the work. Clang, ching—the sounds peculiar to silver coins reverberated, almost as if they were crying.
The gentleman seemed satisfied as he gazed at Miss Holo and Mr. Lawrence's work.
And when he suddenly looked in my direction, his smile grew even stronger as he said this:
"Lad. What did your master tell you earlier?"
I resumed my work in a hurry.
Miss Holo finished sorting out the silver coins that had been jumbled together around the same time I finished sorting out the gentleman's remaining silver coins.
"Good. Splendid."
Looking at the coins neatly piled on top of the table, the gentleman spoke with pride.
"Glory to God."
Afterward, Mr. Lawrence used reference samples to make a more detailed classification, focusing on those he considered especially troublesome. Mr. Lawrence said that this was all that could be instantly recognized on sight and to please consult a proper money changer with proper scales for an expert opinion on the others.
The gentleman seemed quite satisfied with just this, nodding with a smile on his face.
And as the three of us were preparing to depart from the inn, he handed Mr. Lawrence a small leather pouch.
"You've been a real help."
As Mr. Lawrence's hand accepted the pouch, the gentleman clasped both hands around his with a good-natured smile on his face. "Call if you need anything else," Mr. Lawrence said with a smile; then they parted.
I had been sure that we were going to have dinner together, but it did not feel like that at all. I could not really tell if they got along well or poorly. Perhaps relationships between merchants just aren't like that, I thought, committing it to memory.
Besides, there were other things pressing on my mind far more.
The first was: Why did Miss Holo put coins in my carrying bag and bring it over?
The second was: Why in the world did Miss Holo make a blunder even worse than mine?
"Goodness."
As I pondered these things, Mr. Lawrence finally opened his mouth.
For a moment, I was startled, wondering if he was referring to the words inside my head, but Mr. Lawrence had spoken after opening the pouch from the gentleman and placing the contents atop his open palm.
"That's a well-known miser for you. Made us work like money changers and this is all he pays us."
| Even though he had told me the story of his master swindling his own student, I was shocked nonetheless.
"This won't even cover lunch."
As Mr. Lawrence spoke, I finally recalled that I hadn't had lunch.
"Hungry, aren't you? Let's go buy something with our profits."
I thought I had heard wrong, but the next moment, Miss Holo, who had remained silent up to this point, let out a chuckle.
"So, how much did we make?"
Mr. Lawrence did not find Miss Holo's behavior suspicious in the least.
Miss Holo seemed to be toning down her usual voice as she laughed.
What in the world is going on? I wondered, as Miss Holo pushed the carrying bag, packed with silver coins, onto Mr. Lawrence.
"Who knows? I am not a merchant. I do not know the prices of silver coins."
At those words, I thought, Ah!
At the time, the gentleman had counted from memory, but I wondered if a few extra had not fallen into the sack in the confusion.
Isn't that plain burglary? The moment after I had that thought, Miss Holo spun toward me and took my hand, making a proud, grinning smile, with her fangs showing.
"How many coins were you able to swap?"
While Miss Holo stood beside me, grinning all the while, Mr. Lawrence carefully opened the mouth of the carrying sack wide and peered inside as he spoke.
My head was full of question marks. Swap?
"About ten of the silver coins with swords on them; I did not replace any with lilies. I replaced around thirty of your beloved silver trennis."
"Mm...if that's the case, well, considering the age difference, it comes out to a fair bit."
"Heh-heh. That fool was desperately counting them, was he not? It was as if he had grease in his eyes. I wonder, will you turn into that when you grow old?"
Mr. Lawrence made a disagreeable face at Miss Holo's final words.
Miss Holo made a small cackle before suddenly looking toward me.
"Ah, Col. I had to use your carrying bag. Do not be concerned, your belongings are all in order at the inn."
I nodded at that, but I still had not the faintest clue what was going on here.
They had not stolen silver coins, yet they profited from swapping them alone?
"Good of you, though. At what point did you notice?"
Mr. Lawrence closed the carrying bag and directed his words toward Miss Holo.
"Mmm? 'Tis obvious. 'Twas the moment you returned to the room and spoke to me rather than the lad."
I was completely lost.
Even Mr. Lawrence looked at Miss Holo with a suspicious look now.
"Well, I'll take your word for it."
"Fool. But I must say, you put on quite an act yourself. When Col made that dubious face at the carrying bag, I thought things might get a little rough."
***
That was when Mr. Lawrence had warned me.
"I was surprised, too. I thought you'd pick a gentler method."
"But 'twas perfect, was it not?"
"Very much so. Well, it's a good thing I'm used to giving out that humble, submissive feeling, too."
Miss Holo maintained the smile on her face while baring her fangs, which was quite a dexterous feat.
However, she immediately withdrew her fangs, pulling her head back in apparent happiness.
I was the only one not in on it.
As I stood there like a scarecrow, Mr. Lawrence noticed me and said, "Ahh, sorry, sorry," and explained.
"Holo can tell whether silver is good or bad by sound."
"Huh?"
"She can tell by sound just like we can tell steel and copper by taste. Even if the symbol is the same, the silver purity rate varies heavily according to the year it was minted. It was clear from the start that stingy old man would get people to help him without any proper reward, you see. So, we swapped our bad coins for good coins and took our own reward."
The sound Miss Holo made when scattering the silver coins about. And then, the sounds the coins made when she hastily sorted the silver coins out again.
"This fool wouldn't ask me to do something troublesome for no reason, you see. There was definitely something behind it. And then there was that mountain of coins. Of course, I understood right away what he had in mind."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Even though he had told me the story of his master swindling his own student, I was shocked nonetheless.
"This won't even cover lunch."
As Mr. Lawrence spoke, I finally recalled that I hadn't had lunch.
"Hungry, aren't you? Let's go buy something with our profits."
I thought I had heard wrong, but the next moment, Miss Holo, who had remained silent up to this point, let out a chuckle.
"So, how much did we make?"
Mr. Lawrence did not find Miss Holo's behavior suspicious in the least.
Miss Holo seemed to be toning down her usual voice as she laughed.
What in the world is going on? I wondered, as Miss Holo pushed the carrying bag, packed with silver coins, onto Mr. Lawrence.
"Who knows? I am not a merchant. I do not know the prices of silver coins."
At those words, I thought, Ah!
At the time, the gentleman had counted from memory, but I wondered if a few extra had not fallen into the sack in the confusion.
Isn't that plain burglary? The moment after I had that thought, Miss Holo spun toward me and took my hand, making a proud, grinning smile, with her fangs showing.
"How many coins were you able to swap?"
While Miss Holo stood beside me, grinning all the while, Mr. Lawrence carefully opened the mouth of the carrying sack wide and peered inside as he spoke.
My head was full of question marks. Swap?
"About ten of the silver coins with swords on them; I did not replace any with lilies. I replaced around thirty of your beloved silver trennis."
"Mm...if that's the case, well, considering the age difference, it comes out to a fair bit."
"Heh-heh. That fool was desperately counting them, was he not? It was as if he had grease in his eyes. I wonder, will you turn into that when you grow old?"
Mr. Lawrence made a disagreeable face at Miss Holo's final words.
Miss Holo made a small cackle before suddenly looking toward me.
"Ah, Col. I had to use your carrying bag. Do not be concerned, your belongings are all in order at the inn."
I nodded at that, but I still had not the faintest clue what was going on here.
They had not stolen silver coins, yet they profited from swapping them alone?
"Good of you, though. At what point did you notice?"
Mr. Lawrence closed the carrying bag and directed his words toward Miss Holo.
"Mmm? 'Tis obvious. 'Twas the moment you returned to the room and spoke to me rather than the lad."
I was completely lost.
Even Mr. Lawrence looked at Miss Holo with a suspicious look now.
"Well, I'll take your word for it."
"Fool. But I must say, you put on quite an act yourself. When Col made that dubious face at the carrying bag, I thought things might get a little rough."
***
That was when Mr. Lawrence had warned me.
"I was surprised, too. I thought you'd pick a gentler method."
"But 'twas perfect, was it not?"
"Very much so. Well, it's a good thing I'm used to giving out that humble, submissive feeling, too."
Miss Holo maintained the smile on her face while baring her fangs, which was quite a dexterous feat.
However, she immediately withdrew her fangs, pulling her head back in apparent happiness.
I was the only one not in on it.
As I stood there like a scarecrow, Mr. Lawrence noticed me and said, "Ahh, sorry, sorry," and explained.
"Holo can tell whether silver is good or bad by sound."
"Huh?"
"She can tell by sound just like we can tell steel and copper by taste. Even if the symbol is the same, the silver purity rate varies heavily according to the year it was minted. It was clear from the start that stingy old man would get people to help him without any proper reward, you see. So, we swapped our bad coins for good coins and took our own reward."
The sound Miss Holo made when scattering the silver coins about. And then, the sounds the coins made when she hastily sorted the silver coins out again.
"This fool wouldn't ask me to do something troublesome for no reason, you see. There was definitely something behind it. And then there was that mountain of coins. Of course, I understood right away what he had in mind."
| Miss Holo took my hand with her left; she took Mr. Lawrence's hand with her right.
Mr. Lawrence's face had a satisfied smile as well; they really were dancing to the same tune.
"Well, we're not traveling for nothing, are we?"
Miss Holo was looking up at Mr. Lawrence as she spoke. As she did so, Mr. Lawrence looked down at her, somewhat sarcastically curled up the corners of his lips, and inclined his head a little.
It was when I felt somewhat left out by the tight bonds that Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo shared that Mr. Lawrence said that to me.
"Aye. 'Twas because the lad worked so diligently that the fool let his guard down, after all. Besides, paying attention to one rabbit is one thing; two rabbits is a different matter altogether. Col's hard work making him careless beforehand was what made it possible."
"That's because the apprentice is a reflection of the master. He seemed to think Col was my apprentice, so that must have made him more confident I had nothing up my sleeve."
As they were both very kind people, I thought this was probably more than half being considerate of me.
However, the other half, or even less than half, was praise, something I should gratefully accept.
That made me happy, and I smiled widely at it.
When Miss Holo and Mr. Lawrence saw me like that, the smiles they gave me were much gentler than before.
They were very good people. They were people I could trust, people I could open my heart to. Moreover, they were people considerate to someone like me. If the people in the Church were like this, people would be able to live in my village and the villages nearby with greater relief.
In spite of that thought, I needed to lament about that less and be happy I was able to travel with both of them. Setting my thoughts in order, I picked my pace back up and I, Miss Holo, and Mr. Lawrence walked side by side.
"Now then, time for lunch?"
"Yeah. Let's buy something appropriate around here. I know there's a cheap bakery right around..."
Mr. Lawrence tried pulling Miss Holo's hand down a street, but as if he had made a misstep, Miss Holo stopped walking, with her hand holding Mr. Lawrence back.
"Mmm? There's a restaurant with delicious-looking food over there. Is that not better?"
"That's the one with what, roasted chicken and duck? During the day it may smell delicious, but it's expensive. Bread's plenty."
As Mr. Lawrence tried to walk forward once more, Miss Holo fiercely yanked him back.
"Fool. You go earn money, but you have no intention of using it?"
"No intention whatsoever. If I use up everything I earn, when can I rest easy?"
"Hah! That's quite something from someone who's always sleeping like a foolish, lazy cat. What you earned back there was thanks to me, so use it as I tell you!"
"I'm the one who took the job. Besides, you don't even know how to arrange coins by type. Let's say you earned half. That half probably doesn't even cover all the food you've swiped."
"Y-you're dragging that out again...Really, this fool is just..."
"Don't you think about anything but eating? Think ahead a little more..."
In hushed voices, here in the middle of the street, the back-and-forth started again. Fortunately, the street was incredibly packed, making an even more incredible racket. There were craftsmen arguing with one another and merchants having price disputes all over the place. The people around them gave Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo slightly odd looks, but immediately lost interest and hurried along their own way.
But as I watched the two of them like this, I slowly had a thought:
This is probably what getting along well means.
In the end, as if unable to come to terms, both suddenly looked away from each other; Miss Holo came toward me with incredible force.
Then, she grabbed my hand and walked off.
"Ah, er, and Mr. Lawrence?"
As I asked her, Miss Holo had a sulky look on her face like that of a little girl as she said this:
"That fool can jump off a bridge!"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Miss Holo took my hand with her left; she took Mr. Lawrence's hand with her right.
Mr. Lawrence's face had a satisfied smile as well; they really were dancing to the same tune.
"Well, we're not traveling for nothing, are we?"
Miss Holo was looking up at Mr. Lawrence as she spoke. As she did so, Mr. Lawrence looked down at her, somewhat sarcastically curled up the corners of his lips, and inclined his head a little.
It was when I felt somewhat left out by the tight bonds that Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo shared that Mr. Lawrence said that to me.
"Aye. 'Twas because the lad worked so diligently that the fool let his guard down, after all. Besides, paying attention to one rabbit is one thing; two rabbits is a different matter altogether. Col's hard work making him careless beforehand was what made it possible."
"That's because the apprentice is a reflection of the master. He seemed to think Col was my apprentice, so that must have made him more confident I had nothing up my sleeve."
As they were both very kind people, I thought this was probably more than half being considerate of me.
However, the other half, or even less than half, was praise, something I should gratefully accept.
That made me happy, and I smiled widely at it.
When Miss Holo and Mr. Lawrence saw me like that, the smiles they gave me were much gentler than before.
They were very good people. They were people I could trust, people I could open my heart to. Moreover, they were people considerate to someone like me. If the people in the Church were like this, people would be able to live in my village and the villages nearby with greater relief.
In spite of that thought, I needed to lament about that less and be happy I was able to travel with both of them. Setting my thoughts in order, I picked my pace back up and I, Miss Holo, and Mr. Lawrence walked side by side.
"Now then, time for lunch?"
"Yeah. Let's buy something appropriate around here. I know there's a cheap bakery right around..."
Mr. Lawrence tried pulling Miss Holo's hand down a street, but as if he had made a misstep, Miss Holo stopped walking, with her hand holding Mr. Lawrence back.
"Mmm? There's a restaurant with delicious-looking food over there. Is that not better?"
"That's the one with what, roasted chicken and duck? During the day it may smell delicious, but it's expensive. Bread's plenty."
As Mr. Lawrence tried to walk forward once more, Miss Holo fiercely yanked him back.
"Fool. You go earn money, but you have no intention of using it?"
"No intention whatsoever. If I use up everything I earn, when can I rest easy?"
"Hah! That's quite something from someone who's always sleeping like a foolish, lazy cat. What you earned back there was thanks to me, so use it as I tell you!"
"I'm the one who took the job. Besides, you don't even know how to arrange coins by type. Let's say you earned half. That half probably doesn't even cover all the food you've swiped."
"Y-you're dragging that out again...Really, this fool is just..."
"Don't you think about anything but eating? Think ahead a little more..."
In hushed voices, here in the middle of the street, the back-and-forth started again. Fortunately, the street was incredibly packed, making an even more incredible racket. There were craftsmen arguing with one another and merchants having price disputes all over the place. The people around them gave Mr. Lawrence and Miss Holo slightly odd looks, but immediately lost interest and hurried along their own way.
But as I watched the two of them like this, I slowly had a thought:
This is probably what getting along well means.
In the end, as if unable to come to terms, both suddenly looked away from each other; Miss Holo came toward me with incredible force.
Then, she grabbed my hand and walked off.
"Ah, er, and Mr. Lawrence?"
As I asked her, Miss Holo had a sulky look on her face like that of a little girl as she said this:
"That fool can jump off a bridge!"
| Mr. Lawrence looked toward us and, moving his mouth, formed but did not say the words:
You, too!
Still, they looked like they would be making up before supper.
Like telling the quality of coins by their sound, I had a fair grasp of the tone of their words.
I quietly thought about that as we slipped into the bustle of the town.
End
***
He was not sure if he was twelve or thirteen when he apprenticed himself and left the cold village in which he had been born. He had lived as a merchant ever since.
He and his master had spent a long time together as just the two of them, but there were sometimes others who traveled with them.
There were people they would travel two or three days together with before immediately parting ways, only to unexpectedly rendezvous with them a week later; there were others they would travel with for a month or two, living on the road through thick and thin, and as soon as they had learned all there was to know about one another, they parted ways, just like that.
That was normal for those who lived on the road; of course, other rare things happened that one would likely never experience living in a town. A person could meet nobles of high on the road they would be bowing to in the middle of town and enjoy a warm meal together as equals.
For that reason, it was understandable why those who lived in a town all their lives looked at those who lived on the road as strangers. The stigma toward foreigners was especially strong among residents of remote villages who had known everyone around them since birth.
Some people would raise up scythes as tall as men as if driving away bandits. But they were outnumbered by those who welcomed one on friendly terms. In particular, those who occupied high places by villager standards were friendly out of burning curiosity—which was really quite a bother when one got ahold of you.
Sometimes people who had lived on the road for a long time offered those just starting out some amusing tales when staying at the same inn.
At times like these, the storyteller received a warm welcome fit for a king.
"Yes, yes, yes."
That was the reply he received when asking someone in a nearby field if he could have some water from the village while passing through.
The man looked at Lawrence in surprise as if he was a son returning after going off to war without a single word since; suddenly, a broad smile came over him, and his mud-caked hand grabbed hold of Lawrence's own.
The man was fairly advanced in years, but with his face bronzed by the sun, he was like a doll crafted out of mud when he smiled. Furthermore, his eyes had a glittering radiance in them like that of a child.
Though Lawrence was indeed pleased at the welcome, experience had taught him this might turn into trouble.
"Um, water...?"
But his words were lightly brushed off with a smiling face and a "Now, now now."
And with impressive strength, the man pulled Lawrence toward his house.
Later, Lawrence would learn that this was the village headman, but he would be done for once the wine came out.
The man would fiercely ask what drinks Lawrence would recommend and stories of Lawrence's journey; the conversation would no doubt continue until Lawrence's shoulders shook from complete exhaustion.
After hearing such stories, he would no doubt claim he wanted to go on a journey himself to get a feather under his cap.
In his usual travels, Lawrence would drop the name of the lord of the land and proclaim he was a merchant on official business and make his escape, but today he did not. Or perhaps it was better to say, he could not—for his traveling companion, who ought to have waited at the horse-drawn wagon, had at some point turned up at Lawrence's side.
"Here."
With that, his traveling companion gave the village headman's hand a light, chiding slap.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Mr. Lawrence looked toward us and, moving his mouth, formed but did not say the words:
You, too!
Still, they looked like they would be making up before supper.
Like telling the quality of coins by their sound, I had a fair grasp of the tone of their words.
I quietly thought about that as we slipped into the bustle of the town.
End
***
He was not sure if he was twelve or thirteen when he apprenticed himself and left the cold village in which he had been born. He had lived as a merchant ever since.
He and his master had spent a long time together as just the two of them, but there were sometimes others who traveled with them.
There were people they would travel two or three days together with before immediately parting ways, only to unexpectedly rendezvous with them a week later; there were others they would travel with for a month or two, living on the road through thick and thin, and as soon as they had learned all there was to know about one another, they parted ways, just like that.
That was normal for those who lived on the road; of course, other rare things happened that one would likely never experience living in a town. A person could meet nobles of high on the road they would be bowing to in the middle of town and enjoy a warm meal together as equals.
For that reason, it was understandable why those who lived in a town all their lives looked at those who lived on the road as strangers. The stigma toward foreigners was especially strong among residents of remote villages who had known everyone around them since birth.
Some people would raise up scythes as tall as men as if driving away bandits. But they were outnumbered by those who welcomed one on friendly terms. In particular, those who occupied high places by villager standards were friendly out of burning curiosity—which was really quite a bother when one got ahold of you.
Sometimes people who had lived on the road for a long time offered those just starting out some amusing tales when staying at the same inn.
At times like these, the storyteller received a warm welcome fit for a king.
"Yes, yes, yes."
That was the reply he received when asking someone in a nearby field if he could have some water from the village while passing through.
The man looked at Lawrence in surprise as if he was a son returning after going off to war without a single word since; suddenly, a broad smile came over him, and his mud-caked hand grabbed hold of Lawrence's own.
The man was fairly advanced in years, but with his face bronzed by the sun, he was like a doll crafted out of mud when he smiled. Furthermore, his eyes had a glittering radiance in them like that of a child.
Though Lawrence was indeed pleased at the welcome, experience had taught him this might turn into trouble.
"Um, water...?"
But his words were lightly brushed off with a smiling face and a "Now, now now."
And with impressive strength, the man pulled Lawrence toward his house.
Later, Lawrence would learn that this was the village headman, but he would be done for once the wine came out.
The man would fiercely ask what drinks Lawrence would recommend and stories of Lawrence's journey; the conversation would no doubt continue until Lawrence's shoulders shook from complete exhaustion.
After hearing such stories, he would no doubt claim he wanted to go on a journey himself to get a feather under his cap.
In his usual travels, Lawrence would drop the name of the lord of the land and proclaim he was a merchant on official business and make his escape, but today he did not. Or perhaps it was better to say, he could not—for his traveling companion, who ought to have waited at the horse-drawn wagon, had at some point turned up at Lawrence's side.
"Here."
With that, his traveling companion gave the village headman's hand a light, chiding slap.
| It was like an actual mother and a mother-in-law bickering over a child, but on the one hand was a man from a village.
On the other was a girl who looked beautiful on the surface, but Lawrence could only sigh.
His elders had warned him, "Beware of girls with hoods on their heads." Indeed, there was a secret under this hood.
If she opened her mouth, pretty white fangs liable to rip one's throat out poked out; her name was Holo.
By happenstance, she had come to travel with Lawrence, but her true form was that of a giant wolf easily able to gobble a man whole.
Then, she said this: "This one is mine."
Under her hooded religious habit, he could see her pretty, noble, flaxen-furred tail.
The headman gave Holo's face a long look, but Holo's reddish eyes, like amber-colored jewels, returned a stout look to the headman.
The two hands pulling on Lawrence's arms, the headman's and Holo's, differed in size, smoothness, and every other way.
"Would you give him back?"
Holo tilted her head slightly, looking sad as she spoke.
With that, the headman regained his senses as if a spell on him had been broken.
"Ha! Er, well, pardon me."
He let go of Lawrence's hand in a hurry.
If villagers in the surrounding fields looked over to see what was going on, no doubt it would look like their cheerful, guileless headman had once again done something rude and was being scolded by a traveling nun.
"Thank you."
However, as Holo said those words, she grabbed Lawrence's now-free arm with a covetous look unbecoming of any nun.
Though no man could find this disagreeable, for Holo to do this within sight of others meant she was definitely up to something.
When they had first met, his being unable to tell when she was serious or not made him nervous, but lately it had not been so. He had become able to calmly discern when she was serious, even in the solitude of a room for two at the inn.
Lawrence sighed, as it was quite obvious what Holo had in mind.
"What did you want incidentally? We came thinking we might get some water, but...perhaps he made some mistake?"
It was unclear if she would leave it at that when she pushed up onto her toes and gave Lawrence's head a light slap with a "Here.
"This truly is a helpless soul. Even though I tell him over and over to approach all things with a sincere heart..."
He had no idea where she had picked this up, but somehow she plausibly strung similar words together, speaking them with a clear tone one would normally never hear them spoken with. Though it was no bad thing to be gently scolded with words at his age, Lawrence's spirit grew heavy.
"No, no, not at all. Not at all."
It was the village headman who interjected with great excitement, having finally grasped who was in charge between the two people before him.
With great energy, he humbled himself and explained not to Lawrence, but to Holo.
"Because I live in a village such as this, I was hoping very much I could speak with you."
"Mmm? Speak?"
"Yes, yes. If I may say so, I am the headman of this village, and I bear the duty of broadening the horizons of the people who live here. Therefore, I was very much hoping to speak with travelers such as yourselves about your experiences in other lands..."
If Holo played her con to the hilt, she would have this village headman use his position and bring them into the house of one of his fellow villagers and satisfy her own curiosity.
Lawrence had never seen such a humble yet shameless headman.
It was plain as day who he normally spoke with. Almost beyond all doubt, they were merchants taking a shortcut, just like Lawrence.
It was easy to tell what sort of people had influenced his choice of words and manner of speech.
"Aye...certainly we are travelers. We have come from the south on our way to the north where all is cold. Of course, our lives are like candles flickering in the storm, and we have been saved not a few times by the grace of a great light."
She spoke like a true believer, throwing in an appropriate wave of her hand.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was like an actual mother and a mother-in-law bickering over a child, but on the one hand was a man from a village.
On the other was a girl who looked beautiful on the surface, but Lawrence could only sigh.
His elders had warned him, "Beware of girls with hoods on their heads." Indeed, there was a secret under this hood.
If she opened her mouth, pretty white fangs liable to rip one's throat out poked out; her name was Holo.
By happenstance, she had come to travel with Lawrence, but her true form was that of a giant wolf easily able to gobble a man whole.
Then, she said this: "This one is mine."
Under her hooded religious habit, he could see her pretty, noble, flaxen-furred tail.
The headman gave Holo's face a long look, but Holo's reddish eyes, like amber-colored jewels, returned a stout look to the headman.
The two hands pulling on Lawrence's arms, the headman's and Holo's, differed in size, smoothness, and every other way.
"Would you give him back?"
Holo tilted her head slightly, looking sad as she spoke.
With that, the headman regained his senses as if a spell on him had been broken.
"Ha! Er, well, pardon me."
He let go of Lawrence's hand in a hurry.
If villagers in the surrounding fields looked over to see what was going on, no doubt it would look like their cheerful, guileless headman had once again done something rude and was being scolded by a traveling nun.
"Thank you."
However, as Holo said those words, she grabbed Lawrence's now-free arm with a covetous look unbecoming of any nun.
Though no man could find this disagreeable, for Holo to do this within sight of others meant she was definitely up to something.
When they had first met, his being unable to tell when she was serious or not made him nervous, but lately it had not been so. He had become able to calmly discern when she was serious, even in the solitude of a room for two at the inn.
Lawrence sighed, as it was quite obvious what Holo had in mind.
"What did you want incidentally? We came thinking we might get some water, but...perhaps he made some mistake?"
It was unclear if she would leave it at that when she pushed up onto her toes and gave Lawrence's head a light slap with a "Here.
"This truly is a helpless soul. Even though I tell him over and over to approach all things with a sincere heart..."
He had no idea where she had picked this up, but somehow she plausibly strung similar words together, speaking them with a clear tone one would normally never hear them spoken with. Though it was no bad thing to be gently scolded with words at his age, Lawrence's spirit grew heavy.
"No, no, not at all. Not at all."
It was the village headman who interjected with great excitement, having finally grasped who was in charge between the two people before him.
With great energy, he humbled himself and explained not to Lawrence, but to Holo.
"Because I live in a village such as this, I was hoping very much I could speak with you."
"Mmm? Speak?"
"Yes, yes. If I may say so, I am the headman of this village, and I bear the duty of broadening the horizons of the people who live here. Therefore, I was very much hoping to speak with travelers such as yourselves about your experiences in other lands..."
If Holo played her con to the hilt, she would have this village headman use his position and bring them into the house of one of his fellow villagers and satisfy her own curiosity.
Lawrence had never seen such a humble yet shameless headman.
It was plain as day who he normally spoke with. Almost beyond all doubt, they were merchants taking a shortcut, just like Lawrence.
It was easy to tell what sort of people had influenced his choice of words and manner of speech.
"Aye...certainly we are travelers. We have come from the south on our way to the north where all is cold. Of course, our lives are like candles flickering in the storm, and we have been saved not a few times by the grace of a great light."
She spoke like a true believer, throwing in an appropriate wave of her hand.
| "Ohh, ohh, my goodness...In other words, you bear tales of fantastic creatures of legend, vagabonds, heroic knights, and the like?"
"Mmm? Aye, certainly I know several stories like that...Mmm...No, you probably would not believe them..."
"Ohhhhh...!"
Lawrence himself, in spite of striving to be a complete merchant in every way, was hardly unfamiliar with taking advantage of people's ignorance, particularly people living in backwaters like this with limited sources of information, but the sight before his eyes made even him blush.
"Oh, I forget myself. Were you not here to get water?"
As if going out of her way to keep it private, she whispered into Lawrence's ear.
Now that she had gone this far, he had no idea what kind of retribution she would indulge in if he did not play along. If it was business, he had plenty of confidence in his acting ability, but thinking of doing it in any other context gave him stage fright.
Quietly, Lawrence took in a large breath and girded himself.
"...We're still all right, but if I don't do something soon..."
Lawrence thought as hard as he could and forced the words out. As he did so, Holo gave him a sour glare.
Lord have mercy on our souls, Lawrence thought, turning his face away as he spoke.
"We're not running out of just water, but wine, as well..."
That moment, in the direction opposite to where Lawrence turned his face from, he felt a gaze shift to him so hot, he could feel it even in his sleep.
It was the village headman; he looked like a knight whose beloved princess had been taken captive.
"What! You should have said so sooner!"
His voice was so great that Holo's angular, dignified wolf ears, hidden under her hood, threatened to spring right up. It was no doubt a voice honed so that he could give precise instructions to villagers working in large fields. No doubt Holo, of excellent hearing, was surprised by it.
She looked like she was desperately trying to calm herself under her hood.
Seeing Holo like that, and having come this far, Lawrence assumed an expression of surrender. He bypassed Holo and spoke to the village headman.
"Meaning?"
The headman made a smile so great that it almost sent Lawrence flying.
"Come stay at my house! I'll prepare fine wine indeed!"
Holo, who was bad with loud noises, looked like she was desperately enduring the ringing in her ears. She still had a look of suffering on her as she glanced up at Lawrence.
"What a...generous offer..."
And after taking a short, deep breath, she turned back to the village headman, looking like she had been offered the chance of a lifetime.
And so, with her whole heart set on drinking his wine...
"No doubt the blessings of God shall be upon you."
Being something like a god herself, Holo cared little for the God that the Church spoke of.
Even while thinking she was quite a troublesome girl, he wondered if her manner of relentlessly pushing her way to her own objective might be something he should learn for himself.
At any rate, Lawrence and Holo had just traded stories of the road for a drinking party in the village.
In the first place, Lawrence should not have engaged in unnecessary conversation in the middle of the road.
Lawrence had asked a passing stonemason on a pilgrimage about the state of the village to cut down his own travel times.
Since he apparently repaired the stones that made up the stone bridges of the area's villages, their millstones, and sometimes even went to town to cut cobblestones, Lawrence was able to ask him detailed questions about various things.
He was a good-natured craftsman, so Lawrence thought it was probably kindness at work.
He had been at special pains to sing the praises of one nearby village, which apparently had a beautiful spring, and the wine made there was exceedingly tasty.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Ohh, ohh, my goodness...In other words, you bear tales of fantastic creatures of legend, vagabonds, heroic knights, and the like?"
"Mmm? Aye, certainly I know several stories like that...Mmm...No, you probably would not believe them..."
"Ohhhhh...!"
Lawrence himself, in spite of striving to be a complete merchant in every way, was hardly unfamiliar with taking advantage of people's ignorance, particularly people living in backwaters like this with limited sources of information, but the sight before his eyes made even him blush.
"Oh, I forget myself. Were you not here to get water?"
As if going out of her way to keep it private, she whispered into Lawrence's ear.
Now that she had gone this far, he had no idea what kind of retribution she would indulge in if he did not play along. If it was business, he had plenty of confidence in his acting ability, but thinking of doing it in any other context gave him stage fright.
Quietly, Lawrence took in a large breath and girded himself.
"...We're still all right, but if I don't do something soon..."
Lawrence thought as hard as he could and forced the words out. As he did so, Holo gave him a sour glare.
Lord have mercy on our souls, Lawrence thought, turning his face away as he spoke.
"We're not running out of just water, but wine, as well..."
That moment, in the direction opposite to where Lawrence turned his face from, he felt a gaze shift to him so hot, he could feel it even in his sleep.
It was the village headman; he looked like a knight whose beloved princess had been taken captive.
"What! You should have said so sooner!"
His voice was so great that Holo's angular, dignified wolf ears, hidden under her hood, threatened to spring right up. It was no doubt a voice honed so that he could give precise instructions to villagers working in large fields. No doubt Holo, of excellent hearing, was surprised by it.
She looked like she was desperately trying to calm herself under her hood.
Seeing Holo like that, and having come this far, Lawrence assumed an expression of surrender. He bypassed Holo and spoke to the village headman.
"Meaning?"
The headman made a smile so great that it almost sent Lawrence flying.
"Come stay at my house! I'll prepare fine wine indeed!"
Holo, who was bad with loud noises, looked like she was desperately enduring the ringing in her ears. She still had a look of suffering on her as she glanced up at Lawrence.
"What a...generous offer..."
And after taking a short, deep breath, she turned back to the village headman, looking like she had been offered the chance of a lifetime.
And so, with her whole heart set on drinking his wine...
"No doubt the blessings of God shall be upon you."
Being something like a god herself, Holo cared little for the God that the Church spoke of.
Even while thinking she was quite a troublesome girl, he wondered if her manner of relentlessly pushing her way to her own objective might be something he should learn for himself.
At any rate, Lawrence and Holo had just traded stories of the road for a drinking party in the village.
In the first place, Lawrence should not have engaged in unnecessary conversation in the middle of the road.
Lawrence had asked a passing stonemason on a pilgrimage about the state of the village to cut down his own travel times.
Since he apparently repaired the stones that made up the stone bridges of the area's villages, their millstones, and sometimes even went to town to cut cobblestones, Lawrence was able to ask him detailed questions about various things.
He was a good-natured craftsman, so Lawrence thought it was probably kindness at work.
He had been at special pains to sing the praises of one nearby village, which apparently had a beautiful spring, and the wine made there was exceedingly tasty.
| He said that once, he had even been called up by the archduke himself for a job, cutting pretty stones to repair a collapsed well, and this treasured wine had been his reward.
At the time, he was deeply moved by an aroma so extravagant, one would not think such a thing existed in this world; a taste so rich, it numbed a person's very temples; and so forth. Holo, to whom food and wine were nine-tenths of the pleasures of the world to be craved, listened to the story, her tail swaying under her robe the whole time.
Moreover, Lawrence's wallet had become lighter of late from allowing Holo to eat the food considered the most famous specialties at one town after another. Perhaps it was like he had been taught as a child: One keeps trouble from stray dogs at bay by never feeding one, no matter how hungry it looks.
But very much like a child who had never been taught, Lawrence had fed Holo delicious food over and over when she made that hungry-looking face. As a result, just like stray dogs emerging from the mountains and forests to cause people trouble, Holo, with the knowledge of what delicious food tasted like, used various means to cause Lawrence grief.
This was despite his knowing where this led: Once she had tasted good food, she wanted more of the same; then she wanted even more delicious food and more of it.
For that reason, holding Holo in check was essentially impossible.
"Aye. And then, that very moment, he heard the distant howl of a valiant wolf. It was like a cry of victory..."
Trailing off as she spoke, Holo made a sigh full of admiration at the last part.
Everyone was listening so intently that they forgot to drink the wine in their hands.
"The wolf pack plunged down into the valley like an avalanche. In the end, the bandits that had invaded the valley could do nothing against them and fled, all in a jumble. The only ones left were the villagers who lived in the valley."
"A-a valley full of wolves?"
"Even if the bandits were driven off, that's...you know?"
"Y-yeah. Even if the bandits were gone I can't tell which's worse..."
Several villagers argued among one another.
A village in a valley isolated and helpless before a band of heinous bandits, saved by the arrival of a pack of wolves; it sounded too good to be true, yet Lawrence did not think a single person doubted it.
"S-so, what happened in the end...?" One of the flustered villagers asked.
Though men like these were often called villagers ignorant of the world, they simply knew a different set of things than the humans who lived in towns. Indeed, it was they who were far better informed about the outside world.
They knew all too well that bears and wolves were animals that brought direct harm to men.
They knew that wolves had never been domesticated.
But that was precisely why they hung on every word.
"The villagers in the valley no doubt thought the same thing; one calamity followed by another. No, this could be worse than the bandits, for this was not a foe one could reason with."
Holo seemed quite satisfied when the callous smile that came over her as she spoke made all the villagers tremble.
No doubt these villagers had all endured numerous hardships, such as mercilessly blowing windstorms and hail one could only think of as the anger of God himself.
But just as windstorms and hail seemed to rebuff the prayers of men, those who had seen locusts gnaw on not only the ears of wheat, but also on homes and even men themselves knew in their hearts that it was meaningless to beg for aid beyond that of man, whatever their eyes or mouths might say.
Once one had seen the eerie sight of stricken men with empty eyes, obeying nothing but their own instinct to eat, it was a sight never forgotten.
Wolves existed at the summit of man's mountain of fears.
Everyone held their breath.
Holo slowly took a sip of her wine and spoke.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He said that once, he had even been called up by the archduke himself for a job, cutting pretty stones to repair a collapsed well, and this treasured wine had been his reward.
At the time, he was deeply moved by an aroma so extravagant, one would not think such a thing existed in this world; a taste so rich, it numbed a person's very temples; and so forth. Holo, to whom food and wine were nine-tenths of the pleasures of the world to be craved, listened to the story, her tail swaying under her robe the whole time.
Moreover, Lawrence's wallet had become lighter of late from allowing Holo to eat the food considered the most famous specialties at one town after another. Perhaps it was like he had been taught as a child: One keeps trouble from stray dogs at bay by never feeding one, no matter how hungry it looks.
But very much like a child who had never been taught, Lawrence had fed Holo delicious food over and over when she made that hungry-looking face. As a result, just like stray dogs emerging from the mountains and forests to cause people trouble, Holo, with the knowledge of what delicious food tasted like, used various means to cause Lawrence grief.
This was despite his knowing where this led: Once she had tasted good food, she wanted more of the same; then she wanted even more delicious food and more of it.
For that reason, holding Holo in check was essentially impossible.
"Aye. And then, that very moment, he heard the distant howl of a valiant wolf. It was like a cry of victory..."
Trailing off as she spoke, Holo made a sigh full of admiration at the last part.
Everyone was listening so intently that they forgot to drink the wine in their hands.
"The wolf pack plunged down into the valley like an avalanche. In the end, the bandits that had invaded the valley could do nothing against them and fled, all in a jumble. The only ones left were the villagers who lived in the valley."
"A-a valley full of wolves?"
"Even if the bandits were driven off, that's...you know?"
"Y-yeah. Even if the bandits were gone I can't tell which's worse..."
Several villagers argued among one another.
A village in a valley isolated and helpless before a band of heinous bandits, saved by the arrival of a pack of wolves; it sounded too good to be true, yet Lawrence did not think a single person doubted it.
"S-so, what happened in the end...?" One of the flustered villagers asked.
Though men like these were often called villagers ignorant of the world, they simply knew a different set of things than the humans who lived in towns. Indeed, it was they who were far better informed about the outside world.
They knew all too well that bears and wolves were animals that brought direct harm to men.
They knew that wolves had never been domesticated.
But that was precisely why they hung on every word.
"The villagers in the valley no doubt thought the same thing; one calamity followed by another. No, this could be worse than the bandits, for this was not a foe one could reason with."
Holo seemed quite satisfied when the callous smile that came over her as she spoke made all the villagers tremble.
No doubt these villagers had all endured numerous hardships, such as mercilessly blowing windstorms and hail one could only think of as the anger of God himself.
But just as windstorms and hail seemed to rebuff the prayers of men, those who had seen locusts gnaw on not only the ears of wheat, but also on homes and even men themselves knew in their hearts that it was meaningless to beg for aid beyond that of man, whatever their eyes or mouths might say.
Once one had seen the eerie sight of stricken men with empty eyes, obeying nothing but their own instinct to eat, it was a sight never forgotten.
Wolves existed at the summit of man's mountain of fears.
Everyone held their breath.
Holo slowly took a sip of her wine and spoke.
| "It was the wolf he'd helped?!" Someone shouted in his excitement, earning a smack to his head from someone else.
But it was clear this was where it was going and what everyone was waiting for.
A wolf, never to be domesticated by man, saved the village from danger, for he never forgot his debt from long ago.
It was not the moving tale that the villagers sought; it was the possibility itself that such a thing could happen in some far-off land.
"In the end, the villagers offered all the salt-pickled meat they had. But they did not eat the villagers even so. After all, wolves do not eat ears of wheat. And so, the village managed to get through the winter that year."
"Ohh..."
Men, women, and of course children were all lost in the tale.
Anyone who had listened to stories at an inn had a fairly good grasp of which stories were true and which were fabrications. Even so, few thought this story was false.
Holo told seven or eight stories more. Some were stories of things she and Lawrence had been dragged into; others Lawrence had never heard of before.
In villages like this, which seemed to transform every drop of the high-quality spring beside it into wine, Holo was wont to say, "I have no more stories to tell," casually pouring more wine into her tankard all the while.
Therefore, a number of her stories might have been flat-out lies.
"And? Is there more? Other stories like that to tell?"
"No, how about tales of chivalry! There's lots of those all over the place, right?"
"I want to talk about the Church. There's things I want to ask people on a pilgrimage. Is it true that the Holy Mother is at the cathedral in the Belan Mountains?"
It continued like that, one after another.
The village headman, rather than admonishing the villagers as headman for their shamelessness, seemed to be busy lightly engraving the story Holo had told into a roll of tree bark with a finely pared stone.
"Hmmm. But really, I am all out..."
Holo spoke with a laugh as if in mild distress, but of course the villagers would not let her escape so easily.
"Hey, looks like you're running low on wine. Lemme pour some more!"
"Hey, hey, God forgives people for drinking all the time. We don't get these chances very often, so please, tell us more stories like that one!"
Perhaps not so with the food, but the wine was every bit as good as the mason had claimed.
Furthermore, Holo, who normally had at least some regard for Lawrence's wallet, was not bothered in the least by villagers taking her stories as having equal value to their wine; she glugged it down without restraint, becoming even more talkative about this and that.
But even Holo's strength against wine was not infinite; nor was the variety of stories she could tell as great as dandelions in spring were many.
Though Holo hardly needed to be told either of these things, for whatever reason, she did not stand up while inside the ring of villagers around her.
Even so, it felt like it was just about time to end this; also, that standing up might prove difficult.
There probably really was not any more for her to talk about; Lawrence had his doubts she could even taste the wine anymore.
Watching Holo like that as the furthest person in the ring of people, Lawrence was somewhat at a loss as to what to do. Normally, he ought to put an immediate stop to it, saying, "We'll have a fun time again tomorrow," to take the steam out of them. Then, when "tomorrow" came, they just needed to set off before anyone was the wiser.
It might seem a cold and arbitrary way of doing things, but one could hardly be a traveler without doing at least that much.
The problem was if Holo had different ideas, pulling her out of the throng would only backfire. Holo was not the little girl she seemed to be; indeed, she was as pampered and stubborn as any princess.
As he thought about that, his eyes met Holo's as if on cue.
Even if her look didn't quite say, "I want some help here," it was close enough.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "It was the wolf he'd helped?!" Someone shouted in his excitement, earning a smack to his head from someone else.
But it was clear this was where it was going and what everyone was waiting for.
A wolf, never to be domesticated by man, saved the village from danger, for he never forgot his debt from long ago.
It was not the moving tale that the villagers sought; it was the possibility itself that such a thing could happen in some far-off land.
"In the end, the villagers offered all the salt-pickled meat they had. But they did not eat the villagers even so. After all, wolves do not eat ears of wheat. And so, the village managed to get through the winter that year."
"Ohh..."
Men, women, and of course children were all lost in the tale.
Anyone who had listened to stories at an inn had a fairly good grasp of which stories were true and which were fabrications. Even so, few thought this story was false.
Holo told seven or eight stories more. Some were stories of things she and Lawrence had been dragged into; others Lawrence had never heard of before.
In villages like this, which seemed to transform every drop of the high-quality spring beside it into wine, Holo was wont to say, "I have no more stories to tell," casually pouring more wine into her tankard all the while.
Therefore, a number of her stories might have been flat-out lies.
"And? Is there more? Other stories like that to tell?"
"No, how about tales of chivalry! There's lots of those all over the place, right?"
"I want to talk about the Church. There's things I want to ask people on a pilgrimage. Is it true that the Holy Mother is at the cathedral in the Belan Mountains?"
It continued like that, one after another.
The village headman, rather than admonishing the villagers as headman for their shamelessness, seemed to be busy lightly engraving the story Holo had told into a roll of tree bark with a finely pared stone.
"Hmmm. But really, I am all out..."
Holo spoke with a laugh as if in mild distress, but of course the villagers would not let her escape so easily.
"Hey, looks like you're running low on wine. Lemme pour some more!"
"Hey, hey, God forgives people for drinking all the time. We don't get these chances very often, so please, tell us more stories like that one!"
Perhaps not so with the food, but the wine was every bit as good as the mason had claimed.
Furthermore, Holo, who normally had at least some regard for Lawrence's wallet, was not bothered in the least by villagers taking her stories as having equal value to their wine; she glugged it down without restraint, becoming even more talkative about this and that.
But even Holo's strength against wine was not infinite; nor was the variety of stories she could tell as great as dandelions in spring were many.
Though Holo hardly needed to be told either of these things, for whatever reason, she did not stand up while inside the ring of villagers around her.
Even so, it felt like it was just about time to end this; also, that standing up might prove difficult.
There probably really was not any more for her to talk about; Lawrence had his doubts she could even taste the wine anymore.
Watching Holo like that as the furthest person in the ring of people, Lawrence was somewhat at a loss as to what to do. Normally, he ought to put an immediate stop to it, saying, "We'll have a fun time again tomorrow," to take the steam out of them. Then, when "tomorrow" came, they just needed to set off before anyone was the wiser.
It might seem a cold and arbitrary way of doing things, but one could hardly be a traveler without doing at least that much.
The problem was if Holo had different ideas, pulling her out of the throng would only backfire. Holo was not the little girl she seemed to be; indeed, she was as pampered and stubborn as any princess.
As he thought about that, his eyes met Holo's as if on cue.
Even if her look didn't quite say, "I want some help here," it was close enough.
| Goodness, thought Lawrence with a sigh, rising up.
"I'm very sorry, but..."
The atmosphere soured the moment Lawrence pushed through the people clustered around Holo.
Of course, he could not help but think, Damn you for making me play the villain.
The villagers seemed to be arguing over Holo continuing her stories, but it was the village headman who calmed things down.
Notwithstanding how much he seemed to be a childlike mass of innocence and inquisitiveness, when it was time to do his duty, the headman carried it through.
The villagers seemed disappointed, but as Lawrence, keeping his mouth shut, embraced Holo, their gazes were like those given after a feast.
One young lady took a tallow candle in hand and led the way for Lawrence and Holo. She guided them to a large barn beside the village headman's house that stored about a year's supply of food for the villagers.
The common barn had been built sturdier than the villagers' own houses, but the villagers thought this perfectly normal.
In the center of the barn, a single bed had been prepared, a bed made of bales of straw tied together with hemp rope, piled up in what seemed to have been a great hurry. Surely whether they thought this was tactful, or simply had nothing else to provide, was something better not asked.
Lawrence gave the girl a smile on his face and a silver piece of middling value as he uttered his thanks.
After accepting the silver coin, the girl reverently opened the door; after, Lawrence could see her jumping for joy as she returned to her cottage.
"So, why didn't you get up before it got to this point?"
As he laid Holo down upon the bed of straw, the moonlight shining through the skylight built for summer use shone right on top of Holo's belly. Thanks to that, he could not see her expression all that well, but he could tell it was an annoyed one.
"Goodness..."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo made a small groan in her throat, probably because it was so very dry from having spoken too much.
"...Water."
Then, what came out was but that single word.
"...Hold on."
Surely it would have been no great sin to say something sarcastic.
However much she might blame it on drinking wine, she had been a complete child to make it a huge ruckus like that.
Mixing in a sigh, Lawrence searched the room with his eyes, but there was no water pitcher to be found. Apparently, so few were the travelers who stayed overnight that the villagers had neglected that detail.
"There's no water pitcher. Hold on a bit, I'll go draw some water."
But just as Lawrence spoke, starting to move away from the bed...
"Me, too..."
With that, she grabbed hold of Lawrence's trousers.
Usually, when Holo was drunk and lay down once, she never rose again till noon the next day, so this was a rare sight.
"I spoke too much...My face is hot. There's a brook near here, yes?"
Certainly, after having been sandwiched by that large a crowd and drinking wine, it was good to at least wash one's face.
Lawrence lent Holo his shoulder as they left the barn.
"Whew..."
As they went outside, Holo sighed, as if finally being able to breathe again.
In the first place, Holo was the type of person who could merrily brush off a request, calling it troublesome or something like that.
Yes, she had been passed quite a bit of wine, but she had given the villagers a lavish performance.
"Well, looked like you had fun."
Though Holo sometimes seemed in danger of tripping, she did not seem to be quite that drunk and walked properly on her own two feet.
Or perhaps Holo could walk on her own two feet just fine, but she wanted to pretend she was drunk.
Holo always seemed embarrassed when she had done her best for something, so it was entirely possible she was trying to conceal a blush.
"...Pwah!"
The two went as far as the brook that crossed the quiet village's road; there, Holo washed her face in the cold springwater.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Goodness, thought Lawrence with a sigh, rising up.
"I'm very sorry, but..."
The atmosphere soured the moment Lawrence pushed through the people clustered around Holo.
Of course, he could not help but think, Damn you for making me play the villain.
The villagers seemed to be arguing over Holo continuing her stories, but it was the village headman who calmed things down.
Notwithstanding how much he seemed to be a childlike mass of innocence and inquisitiveness, when it was time to do his duty, the headman carried it through.
The villagers seemed disappointed, but as Lawrence, keeping his mouth shut, embraced Holo, their gazes were like those given after a feast.
One young lady took a tallow candle in hand and led the way for Lawrence and Holo. She guided them to a large barn beside the village headman's house that stored about a year's supply of food for the villagers.
The common barn had been built sturdier than the villagers' own houses, but the villagers thought this perfectly normal.
In the center of the barn, a single bed had been prepared, a bed made of bales of straw tied together with hemp rope, piled up in what seemed to have been a great hurry. Surely whether they thought this was tactful, or simply had nothing else to provide, was something better not asked.
Lawrence gave the girl a smile on his face and a silver piece of middling value as he uttered his thanks.
After accepting the silver coin, the girl reverently opened the door; after, Lawrence could see her jumping for joy as she returned to her cottage.
"So, why didn't you get up before it got to this point?"
As he laid Holo down upon the bed of straw, the moonlight shining through the skylight built for summer use shone right on top of Holo's belly. Thanks to that, he could not see her expression all that well, but he could tell it was an annoyed one.
"Goodness..."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo made a small groan in her throat, probably because it was so very dry from having spoken too much.
"...Water."
Then, what came out was but that single word.
"...Hold on."
Surely it would have been no great sin to say something sarcastic.
However much she might blame it on drinking wine, she had been a complete child to make it a huge ruckus like that.
Mixing in a sigh, Lawrence searched the room with his eyes, but there was no water pitcher to be found. Apparently, so few were the travelers who stayed overnight that the villagers had neglected that detail.
"There's no water pitcher. Hold on a bit, I'll go draw some water."
But just as Lawrence spoke, starting to move away from the bed...
"Me, too..."
With that, she grabbed hold of Lawrence's trousers.
Usually, when Holo was drunk and lay down once, she never rose again till noon the next day, so this was a rare sight.
"I spoke too much...My face is hot. There's a brook near here, yes?"
Certainly, after having been sandwiched by that large a crowd and drinking wine, it was good to at least wash one's face.
Lawrence lent Holo his shoulder as they left the barn.
"Whew..."
As they went outside, Holo sighed, as if finally being able to breathe again.
In the first place, Holo was the type of person who could merrily brush off a request, calling it troublesome or something like that.
Yes, she had been passed quite a bit of wine, but she had given the villagers a lavish performance.
"Well, looked like you had fun."
Though Holo sometimes seemed in danger of tripping, she did not seem to be quite that drunk and walked properly on her own two feet.
Or perhaps Holo could walk on her own two feet just fine, but she wanted to pretend she was drunk.
Holo always seemed embarrassed when she had done her best for something, so it was entirely possible she was trying to conceal a blush.
"...Pwah!"
The two went as far as the brook that crossed the quiet village's road; there, Holo washed her face in the cold springwater.
| After drinking a fair amount, Holo suddenly had had enough; she lifted her face and pulled her body back up.
Then, Holo used the hand towel she had hung from her waist to wipe off her face, nonchalantly wiping both hands off as well.
There were no words of thanks, but when Holo stood up, she grasped Lawrence's hand.
"Is this not enough?" she might have said, but he wondered if it really meant there was no complaint for her to make.
"What is with this, though?"
"Mm?"
The path extended in a perfectly straight line from the brook to the barn, precisely wide enough for two people walking side by side.
Holo spoke softly as the two of them walked together under the moonlight.
"I did not think they would be that insistent. I wanted to slip out somehow, but..."
Pausing to take a breath, she made an embarrassed-sounding laugh.
"I got scared midway."
Lawrence was a little surprised that Holo had had the same thought.
"People are more frightening. Once wolves and bears' bellies are full, there is nothing to fear from them. But people are not limited by such concerns; when abstract things are concerned, all the more so."
She spoke as if out of pique, but the side of her face looked mildly amused.
It was probably something she thought she, too, should reflect upon.
"It would be nice if you always remembered that..."
"Mmm."
Holo pouted, but she did not move away from Lawrence; to the contrary, she butted her head against his arm.
"But I must wonder."
"Mmm?"
"What did they expect from me?"
Judging from the side of her face, it was not a joke, so Lawrence thought for a while before parroting her words.
"What...you ask?"
"I know they wanted amusing tales. That is not what I mean."
Apparently annoyed, the tone of her voice became prickly.
It seemed the wine had made her a fair bit moodier.
"That is not what I mean...Surely my stories were not amusing enough to listen to them so seriously? Or were they so fascinating? A number of them were lies, and obvious ones at that, yet even so?"
So she really did mix lies in, he thought with a somewhat strained smile, but he somehow understood what Holo was getting at.
After all, the villagers had truly been desperate.
It was as if they felt it was more important to hear as many stories as was possible than to enjoy them.
There was no mistaking that this had thrown Holo off her stride.
Perhaps the reason she had not gotten up when drunk from her wine and running out of stories to tell was because the desperation of the villagers was so incomprehensible, her legs just would not move.
But the answer Lawrence immediately prepared within himself was a very simple one.
Indeed, it was so simple an answer that Holo might be upset once he told her.
Hence, he thought he should dress it up somehow, but nothing came to mind.
Giving up, he spoke. "To put it bluntly...Because they're villagers."
It must have sounded like the sort of ill-tempered reply one would get from a hermit.
Holo made a pout as she looked up at Lawrence.
Really, he did not mind seeing Holo a little angry and a bit sullen like this.
But the straw bed the friendly villagers had prepared beckoned just beyond.
Since he did not want to sleep on the hard ground, Lawrence spoke.
"This path..."
And he pointed to the path they were currently walking upon.
It was a pretty path that stretched from the brook past several houses, right past the front of the village headman's house, and right in front of the barn.
"It's probably the prettiest path in the village."
Holo looked behind her, then ahead, then finally back at Lawrence.
"What of it?" her skeptical eyes seemed to say.
"Haven't you noticed something since we started walking?"
As Lawrence asked, Holo's face grew even more dubious. Her eyebrows were scowling so much that she really did look angry.
As Lawrence did not think Holo would arrive at the correct answer by herself, he laid it out before she became genuinely angry.
"This path is just wide enough for two adults to walk along it, holding hands."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | After drinking a fair amount, Holo suddenly had had enough; she lifted her face and pulled her body back up.
Then, Holo used the hand towel she had hung from her waist to wipe off her face, nonchalantly wiping both hands off as well.
There were no words of thanks, but when Holo stood up, she grasped Lawrence's hand.
"Is this not enough?" she might have said, but he wondered if it really meant there was no complaint for her to make.
"What is with this, though?"
"Mm?"
The path extended in a perfectly straight line from the brook to the barn, precisely wide enough for two people walking side by side.
Holo spoke softly as the two of them walked together under the moonlight.
"I did not think they would be that insistent. I wanted to slip out somehow, but..."
Pausing to take a breath, she made an embarrassed-sounding laugh.
"I got scared midway."
Lawrence was a little surprised that Holo had had the same thought.
"People are more frightening. Once wolves and bears' bellies are full, there is nothing to fear from them. But people are not limited by such concerns; when abstract things are concerned, all the more so."
She spoke as if out of pique, but the side of her face looked mildly amused.
It was probably something she thought she, too, should reflect upon.
"It would be nice if you always remembered that..."
"Mmm."
Holo pouted, but she did not move away from Lawrence; to the contrary, she butted her head against his arm.
"But I must wonder."
"Mmm?"
"What did they expect from me?"
Judging from the side of her face, it was not a joke, so Lawrence thought for a while before parroting her words.
"What...you ask?"
"I know they wanted amusing tales. That is not what I mean."
Apparently annoyed, the tone of her voice became prickly.
It seemed the wine had made her a fair bit moodier.
"That is not what I mean...Surely my stories were not amusing enough to listen to them so seriously? Or were they so fascinating? A number of them were lies, and obvious ones at that, yet even so?"
So she really did mix lies in, he thought with a somewhat strained smile, but he somehow understood what Holo was getting at.
After all, the villagers had truly been desperate.
It was as if they felt it was more important to hear as many stories as was possible than to enjoy them.
There was no mistaking that this had thrown Holo off her stride.
Perhaps the reason she had not gotten up when drunk from her wine and running out of stories to tell was because the desperation of the villagers was so incomprehensible, her legs just would not move.
But the answer Lawrence immediately prepared within himself was a very simple one.
Indeed, it was so simple an answer that Holo might be upset once he told her.
Hence, he thought he should dress it up somehow, but nothing came to mind.
Giving up, he spoke. "To put it bluntly...Because they're villagers."
It must have sounded like the sort of ill-tempered reply one would get from a hermit.
Holo made a pout as she looked up at Lawrence.
Really, he did not mind seeing Holo a little angry and a bit sullen like this.
But the straw bed the friendly villagers had prepared beckoned just beyond.
Since he did not want to sleep on the hard ground, Lawrence spoke.
"This path..."
And he pointed to the path they were currently walking upon.
It was a pretty path that stretched from the brook past several houses, right past the front of the village headman's house, and right in front of the barn.
"It's probably the prettiest path in the village."
Holo looked behind her, then ahead, then finally back at Lawrence.
"What of it?" her skeptical eyes seemed to say.
"Haven't you noticed something since we started walking?"
As Lawrence asked, Holo's face grew even more dubious. Her eyebrows were scowling so much that she really did look angry.
As Lawrence did not think Holo would arrive at the correct answer by herself, he laid it out before she became genuinely angry.
"This path is just wide enough for two adults to walk along it, holding hands."
| "No doubt it's like this from the brook till it ends."
Since Holo was a little too small to be adult sized and was snuggled up to Lawrence like this, there was a bit of room to spare.
Even so, Holo displayed tentative agreement with Lawrence's words.
"But since it's too narrow for two horse-drawn wagons to pass by each other, the path through the field over there is probably wider."
It was precisely because this was a remote village that a wide path was needed for transporting bundles of straw, produce, and livestock.
"And yet, this path, connecting most of the houses in the village, is only this wide. There's a reason for that."
"Aye...?"
Though her sourness had vanished, it felt like she might say at any moment, If this answer is not interesting, you shall regret it.
But paying little heed, Lawrence made a small smile as he spoke.
"If we walk to the end, you'll see. And, it'll serve as the answer to your own question, too."
"Aye..."
If you put it that way, let us walk.
Making a sigh that seemed to express that, Holo leisurely walked with Lawrence along the path.
As the season was winter, there were no frogs, nor the sounds of birds or insects.
Having been silent this far, one would think it would remain silent the rest of the way.
The only warmth rested between their palms as they walked straight down the simple path.
The village, which Lawrence did not even know the name of, did not reach very far.
They soon arrived at the end of the path.
And when they arrived at that place, Holo squeezed Lawrence's hand just a little harder.
"This is the answer."
As Lawrence spoke, he looked at Holo beside him.
Holo stood silently in place, staring squarely at where the path ended.
"This village begins at the brook, but for other villages it can be a well. Anyway, it begins where there is water, and here is where it ends. You understand why the path is so narrow now, don't you?"
Even though the moon was out, it was nowhere anyone wanted to go to in the middle of the night.
This was the village's graveyard, the final destination at the end of the villagers' lives.
"Wide enough to carry a casket?"
"Yes. The brook is used for baptism, and when you die, you reach the end of this path. If the sun was out, you could see this place straight from the brook. The villagers' lives have no twists or turns. There are no detours. Where they were born and where they shall die were determined long ago. That's why they want to know about the outside world."
The stories being interesting was of secondary importance.
Holo patted a stake of the fence surrounding the graveyard and let out a long, narrow, white breath.
"You see what I mean?"
Holo nodded.
And after she nodded, she made a vexed smile.
"It would have been nice to speak with them more."
It was kindness typical of her, he thought.
"But ah yes..."
Holo lifted her chin and looked over all of the graveyard, which was not all that large, and tilted her head ever so slightly.
"This is the natural order for many people, is it not?"
"I suppose so. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be any business for traveling merchants."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo said, "Quite true," and laughed.
"Well, the world is full of many things. Now I have become wiser about one more."
As Holo spoke with an intentionally comedic tone, she let go of Lawrence's hand and spun around on the spot.
"Now that the mystery is solved, shall we go back? My hotness from the wine seems to be cooling."
"I'm all for that. After all, tomorrow..."
Lawrence closed the gap between them, took firm hold of Holo's hand once more, and spoke.
"...we'll be back on the road again."
So long as one journeyed, anything could happen.
Some things would be joyous, others would be sad, and still others, painful.
But so long as their hands were joined and they had a road to follow, they could keep moving forward.
Holo glanced up at Lawrence, her refined lips tapered ever so slightly in a smile.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "No doubt it's like this from the brook till it ends."
Since Holo was a little too small to be adult sized and was snuggled up to Lawrence like this, there was a bit of room to spare.
Even so, Holo displayed tentative agreement with Lawrence's words.
"But since it's too narrow for two horse-drawn wagons to pass by each other, the path through the field over there is probably wider."
It was precisely because this was a remote village that a wide path was needed for transporting bundles of straw, produce, and livestock.
"And yet, this path, connecting most of the houses in the village, is only this wide. There's a reason for that."
"Aye...?"
Though her sourness had vanished, it felt like she might say at any moment, If this answer is not interesting, you shall regret it.
But paying little heed, Lawrence made a small smile as he spoke.
"If we walk to the end, you'll see. And, it'll serve as the answer to your own question, too."
"Aye..."
If you put it that way, let us walk.
Making a sigh that seemed to express that, Holo leisurely walked with Lawrence along the path.
As the season was winter, there were no frogs, nor the sounds of birds or insects.
Having been silent this far, one would think it would remain silent the rest of the way.
The only warmth rested between their palms as they walked straight down the simple path.
The village, which Lawrence did not even know the name of, did not reach very far.
They soon arrived at the end of the path.
And when they arrived at that place, Holo squeezed Lawrence's hand just a little harder.
"This is the answer."
As Lawrence spoke, he looked at Holo beside him.
Holo stood silently in place, staring squarely at where the path ended.
"This village begins at the brook, but for other villages it can be a well. Anyway, it begins where there is water, and here is where it ends. You understand why the path is so narrow now, don't you?"
Even though the moon was out, it was nowhere anyone wanted to go to in the middle of the night.
This was the village's graveyard, the final destination at the end of the villagers' lives.
"Wide enough to carry a casket?"
"Yes. The brook is used for baptism, and when you die, you reach the end of this path. If the sun was out, you could see this place straight from the brook. The villagers' lives have no twists or turns. There are no detours. Where they were born and where they shall die were determined long ago. That's why they want to know about the outside world."
The stories being interesting was of secondary importance.
Holo patted a stake of the fence surrounding the graveyard and let out a long, narrow, white breath.
"You see what I mean?"
Holo nodded.
And after she nodded, she made a vexed smile.
"It would have been nice to speak with them more."
It was kindness typical of her, he thought.
"But ah yes..."
Holo lifted her chin and looked over all of the graveyard, which was not all that large, and tilted her head ever so slightly.
"This is the natural order for many people, is it not?"
"I suppose so. If it wasn't, there wouldn't be any business for traveling merchants."
As Lawrence spoke, Holo said, "Quite true," and laughed.
"Well, the world is full of many things. Now I have become wiser about one more."
As Holo spoke with an intentionally comedic tone, she let go of Lawrence's hand and spun around on the spot.
"Now that the mystery is solved, shall we go back? My hotness from the wine seems to be cooling."
"I'm all for that. After all, tomorrow..."
Lawrence closed the gap between them, took firm hold of Holo's hand once more, and spoke.
"...we'll be back on the road again."
So long as one journeyed, anything could happen.
Some things would be joyous, others would be sad, and still others, painful.
But so long as their hands were joined and they had a road to follow, they could keep moving forward.
Holo glanced up at Lawrence, her refined lips tapered ever so slightly in a smile.
| End
***
It's the last afterword, but actually, I didn't want to write it.
I truly have written all in the Spice and Wolf series that I wanted to.
This volume is centered on an episode taking place a while after the events in volume sixteen, but midway, it became harder to write than anything before it. I really didn't want to write it.
But rather mysteriously, this brought me no anguish. Indeed, it made me very happy.
Really, really—really, I've done this, I've done that, I've done it all, there's no more!
I was able to think such a thought for the first time in my life. My personality has tended to make me get tired of anything, discarding things midway as soon as I get used to them, over and over again.
Besides, in the beginning, not having anything left to write was my nightmare. Fearing this, I reada a great many books. But it seems that the true meaning of not having anything left to write laid elsewhere. So there are things like this, I thought in exasperation; I slumped and grinned a pained grin.
(Bit of a Spice and Wolf joke there.)
Even so, having written these characters for a whole five years, I was able to gather the vestiges of my memories and commit them to paper, but this is a method permitted only once, at the very, very end.
The "intermission" and "conclusion" comprise that one last time. When I reread the short stories I'd jotted down during the same time, made with the sense that I was finishing somewhere, I really surprised myself.
I'm happy that I was able to have fun with the series Spice and Wolf until the final seventeenth volume.
Now then, even though I just said I've written everything I wanted to, I have a bunch of other things I already want to do. Volume sixteenish in...you might blame me for writing "summerish" as too optimistic, but it'll be within the year! I'm sure of it!
After that, I'm picking at some private creative activities, so if you see me somewhere else, please take a look!
And so, the long journey of Spice and Wolf comes to an end.
To all who participated in this series, and to all the readers who read to the very end, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart as I lower the curtain.
Isuna Hasekura
***
The snow-covered evergreens stood silently, like soldiers. It was quiet all around, and only a distant, crisp birdsong broke the silence.
Had there been at least one cloud in the sky the man's mind could have wandered, but today the sky was as deep a blue as the ocean floor. Unsure of what to do with himself, in the end he simply stared at his feet.
"Well then, let's get going."
The man heard the voice, and when he looked up, everything was ready.
With a somber look, the leading priest bowed once. Behind him, two men held staves roughly the height of a person and adorned with heavy-looking metal crests. On both sides behind them stood six more men, carrying a coffin on their shoulders.
"May God and the spirits grant us their protection."
The priest chanted solemnly as they slowly began to move. As they did, people hesitantly came out from beneath the evergreens that lined the street.
Some had dressed for the occasion, while others seemed to have come straight from work. They were uncertain, like deer that spotted a person in the woods. But encouraged by the priest, they approached the coffin and each whispered their parting words. Though their murmurs were brief, the man could tell they had thought carefully about what to say and their words were full of feeling. As he listened, he began to feel as though these words were meant for him, and his head fell toward his chest a bit.
No, I shouldn't interpret it that way—he cleared his mind of those thoughts as they neared a corner and turned onto the next road.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | End
***
It's the last afterword, but actually, I didn't want to write it.
I truly have written all in the Spice and Wolf series that I wanted to.
This volume is centered on an episode taking place a while after the events in volume sixteen, but midway, it became harder to write than anything before it. I really didn't want to write it.
But rather mysteriously, this brought me no anguish. Indeed, it made me very happy.
Really, really—really, I've done this, I've done that, I've done it all, there's no more!
I was able to think such a thought for the first time in my life. My personality has tended to make me get tired of anything, discarding things midway as soon as I get used to them, over and over again.
Besides, in the beginning, not having anything left to write was my nightmare. Fearing this, I reada a great many books. But it seems that the true meaning of not having anything left to write laid elsewhere. So there are things like this, I thought in exasperation; I slumped and grinned a pained grin.
(Bit of a Spice and Wolf joke there.)
Even so, having written these characters for a whole five years, I was able to gather the vestiges of my memories and commit them to paper, but this is a method permitted only once, at the very, very end.
The "intermission" and "conclusion" comprise that one last time. When I reread the short stories I'd jotted down during the same time, made with the sense that I was finishing somewhere, I really surprised myself.
I'm happy that I was able to have fun with the series Spice and Wolf until the final seventeenth volume.
Now then, even though I just said I've written everything I wanted to, I have a bunch of other things I already want to do. Volume sixteenish in...you might blame me for writing "summerish" as too optimistic, but it'll be within the year! I'm sure of it!
After that, I'm picking at some private creative activities, so if you see me somewhere else, please take a look!
And so, the long journey of Spice and Wolf comes to an end.
To all who participated in this series, and to all the readers who read to the very end, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart as I lower the curtain.
Isuna Hasekura
***
The snow-covered evergreens stood silently, like soldiers. It was quiet all around, and only a distant, crisp birdsong broke the silence.
Had there been at least one cloud in the sky the man's mind could have wandered, but today the sky was as deep a blue as the ocean floor. Unsure of what to do with himself, in the end he simply stared at his feet.
"Well then, let's get going."
The man heard the voice, and when he looked up, everything was ready.
With a somber look, the leading priest bowed once. Behind him, two men held staves roughly the height of a person and adorned with heavy-looking metal crests. On both sides behind them stood six more men, carrying a coffin on their shoulders.
"May God and the spirits grant us their protection."
The priest chanted solemnly as they slowly began to move. As they did, people hesitantly came out from beneath the evergreens that lined the street.
Some had dressed for the occasion, while others seemed to have come straight from work. They were uncertain, like deer that spotted a person in the woods. But encouraged by the priest, they approached the coffin and each whispered their parting words. Though their murmurs were brief, the man could tell they had thought carefully about what to say and their words were full of feeling. As he listened, he began to feel as though these words were meant for him, and his head fell toward his chest a bit.
No, I shouldn't interpret it that way—he cleared his mind of those thoughts as they neared a corner and turned onto the next road.
| As though the men carrying the crests in front of the procession shared a similar sentiment in their hearts, they held their staves up even higher. A sign glinted dully in the winter sun.
A lone wolf was engraved upon it.
"Under God's protection, we have safely reached his house. May the spirit of our friend find eternal peace here."
The priest made his announcement before a shed—a place deep in these mountains that had been hastily redecorated as a church—and the people bowed their heads reverently. The priest nodded, and the men carried the coffin into the shed. After waiting a moment, the man followed them into the shed and found it had already been placed at the altar. As though opening the way for him, the men split to either side and exited. They closed the door, likely out of consideration.
Slowly, he approached the coffin and sat down beside it.
He removed the veil from the face resting within the flowers, and it was almost as though he could hear silly-sounding snores even now.
"I never thought I would be the one to lead your funeral."
As Lawrence spoke, he stroked the lightly powdered face lying in the coffin.
"Holo."
From beyond the door, he could hear the deeply somber sound of a bell.
It had happened one sunny winter day...
The smell of lunch still lingered in the dining hall, and a lute's gentle melody drifted from the baths.
He had been working nonstop since before sunrise, and by the time he could finally take a breather, it was already late in the afternoon.
"The Land of Hidden Water, Nyohhira. Still, the only ones who can relax are the customers, eh?"
Lawrence, owner of the Spice and Wolf bathhouse, stretched his head and cracked his neck. There was any number of reasons for his troubles.
For example, many of his customers were high-ranking clergy, and they usually made quite selfish requests. When they insisted on praying early in the morning, Lawrence had no choice but to comply. For that, he had various duties, such as readying their scriptures, cutting the candlesticks to a uniform length before lighting them, and laying out a fur rug for their comfort when they kneeled to pray.
While they prayed to God, oblivious to the pains he had to endure, Lawrence began cleaning the baths. Afterward, he put away the utensils that the late-night customers left out from the previous evening, threw away garbage, scooped out fallen leaves from the springs, and splashed some hot water around to thaw the path that connected the main house to the baths. Sometimes, there were even critters hiding in the water that needed to be chased away.
As he did all this, smoke began to rise from the kitchen chimney, and a new fight began—preparing breakfast. The idea that a clergyman's breakfast should be simple and easy was almost nonexistent. Customers ate and drank until they slept, and they of course ordered plenty of breakfast.
Lawrence earnestly did the washing next to the cook, Hanna, who skillfully performed the work of three people on her own. It was not as though it was the owner's job to wash dishes normally. But after losing the two workers whose duties included these menial jobs, a few sacrifices were necessary.
Afterward, he had to care for the customers that trickled in for their morning meal, ready towels and coats for guests headed to the baths, and act as manager when the musicians and dancers arrived. The baths varied in size, and how much performers earned depended on the place—and it was up to Lawrence as owner to decide who performed where in a way that would not upset the musicians and dancers.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | As though the men carrying the crests in front of the procession shared a similar sentiment in their hearts, they held their staves up even higher. A sign glinted dully in the winter sun.
A lone wolf was engraved upon it.
"Under God's protection, we have safely reached his house. May the spirit of our friend find eternal peace here."
The priest made his announcement before a shed—a place deep in these mountains that had been hastily redecorated as a church—and the people bowed their heads reverently. The priest nodded, and the men carried the coffin into the shed. After waiting a moment, the man followed them into the shed and found it had already been placed at the altar. As though opening the way for him, the men split to either side and exited. They closed the door, likely out of consideration.
Slowly, he approached the coffin and sat down beside it.
He removed the veil from the face resting within the flowers, and it was almost as though he could hear silly-sounding snores even now.
"I never thought I would be the one to lead your funeral."
As Lawrence spoke, he stroked the lightly powdered face lying in the coffin.
"Holo."
From beyond the door, he could hear the deeply somber sound of a bell.
It had happened one sunny winter day...
The smell of lunch still lingered in the dining hall, and a lute's gentle melody drifted from the baths.
He had been working nonstop since before sunrise, and by the time he could finally take a breather, it was already late in the afternoon.
"The Land of Hidden Water, Nyohhira. Still, the only ones who can relax are the customers, eh?"
Lawrence, owner of the Spice and Wolf bathhouse, stretched his head and cracked his neck. There was any number of reasons for his troubles.
For example, many of his customers were high-ranking clergy, and they usually made quite selfish requests. When they insisted on praying early in the morning, Lawrence had no choice but to comply. For that, he had various duties, such as readying their scriptures, cutting the candlesticks to a uniform length before lighting them, and laying out a fur rug for their comfort when they kneeled to pray.
While they prayed to God, oblivious to the pains he had to endure, Lawrence began cleaning the baths. Afterward, he put away the utensils that the late-night customers left out from the previous evening, threw away garbage, scooped out fallen leaves from the springs, and splashed some hot water around to thaw the path that connected the main house to the baths. Sometimes, there were even critters hiding in the water that needed to be chased away.
As he did all this, smoke began to rise from the kitchen chimney, and a new fight began—preparing breakfast. The idea that a clergyman's breakfast should be simple and easy was almost nonexistent. Customers ate and drank until they slept, and they of course ordered plenty of breakfast.
Lawrence earnestly did the washing next to the cook, Hanna, who skillfully performed the work of three people on her own. It was not as though it was the owner's job to wash dishes normally. But after losing the two workers whose duties included these menial jobs, a few sacrifices were necessary.
Afterward, he had to care for the customers that trickled in for their morning meal, ready towels and coats for guests headed to the baths, and act as manager when the musicians and dancers arrived. The baths varied in size, and how much performers earned depended on the place—and it was up to Lawrence as owner to decide who performed where in a way that would not upset the musicians and dancers.
| Then, as the last breakfast plate was being stored away, he had to line up lunch for the early comers.
Lawrence sometimes felt as though all this work was in vain, like trying to catch an entire downpour in a single pot. But so long as he worked his hardest, it would end someday.
And all this excitement was only supposed to be a brief test of patience.
"Good work today."
Lawrence sat down in the now-quiet dining hall to take a breather by the corner, and in came Hanna, to whom it would be somewhat rude to call a young girl. Though she was not physically imposing by any means, Hanna had a commanding air about her and did not show a single trace of fatigue from the morning's commotion. If someone had told him that she had raised ten children all on her own, he would have believed it.
On the tray she carried, there was a bowl brimming with baked beans, thick-cut smoked meat, and wine. Garlic and mustard garnished the meat, its fat still sizzling, and it smelled as good as sin. Lawrence remembered he had not eaten since morning and gulped.
"You too, Hanna."
Though he was the owner, he did not forget to give thanks before wolfing down his food. Hanna may or may not have noticed his tactfulness as she laid out his utensils and poured wine into his cup. He scooped the beans into his mouth with a spoon, and his salt-deprived body was happy.
"I don't mind so much that we lost our two helpers so quickly, but if you collapsed, sir, we'd lose everything."
Shivering at the luxury of washing down salty food with wine, he cut himself another slice of the well-preserved meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
He was finally getting used to being called "sir."
"Of course, I plan on hiring new workers, but I don't think this excitement is going to last much longer. It's almost time for spring to arrive at the bottom of the mountain."
"Oh, it's almost that time already? The winters are so long up here in the mountains, you forget about the rest of the seasons."
"You're not excited for spring, Hanna?"
The word winter carried the same meaning as the word perseverance for those who lived in the mountains, where the snow piled high. Everything—people and animals and trees—withdrew, dreaming of the release spring would bring.
"That's not quite true, sir. But once winter's over, everyone goes down the mountain, and the bathhouse is slow until summer. That makes me a little sad."
She crossed her arms and touched her cheek, gazing off into the distance, and Lawrence forced a smile. He should have felt the same—his purpose in life was supposed to be working hard and staying busy—but Hanna was special. In terms of being a helper, no one could be more reassuring than she was. But Lawrence pined for spring's arrival as much as anyone else. He for the chance to rest that season would provide, since his body could not handle strain like it used to. In light of all this, Hanna's words stung a little.
On the other hand, as a former merchant who could not stand pointless waste, the period between winter and summer bothered him like a rock in his shoe. If he could get some customers to come during that time, then he could rest and work and profit all at once, but plans for that were not progressing much.
"Anyway, is your wife still asleep?"
It was long past noon, but the bathhouse's mistress was nowhere to be seen.
Lawrence put more baked beans to his mouth and rewarded himself with some high-quality imported wine before biting into meat he covered in mustard. Then he spoke.
"She's the kind that can't wait for spring."
"My."
Hanna gave a small smile. "I'll go prepare for dinner." And she returned to the kitchen.
Lawrence took his time eating, and when he finished, he washed the dishes himself. Then he immediately poured wine into a small carafe and headed for their bedroom on the second floor of the bathhouse.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Then, as the last breakfast plate was being stored away, he had to line up lunch for the early comers.
Lawrence sometimes felt as though all this work was in vain, like trying to catch an entire downpour in a single pot. But so long as he worked his hardest, it would end someday.
And all this excitement was only supposed to be a brief test of patience.
"Good work today."
Lawrence sat down in the now-quiet dining hall to take a breather by the corner, and in came Hanna, to whom it would be somewhat rude to call a young girl. Though she was not physically imposing by any means, Hanna had a commanding air about her and did not show a single trace of fatigue from the morning's commotion. If someone had told him that she had raised ten children all on her own, he would have believed it.
On the tray she carried, there was a bowl brimming with baked beans, thick-cut smoked meat, and wine. Garlic and mustard garnished the meat, its fat still sizzling, and it smelled as good as sin. Lawrence remembered he had not eaten since morning and gulped.
"You too, Hanna."
Though he was the owner, he did not forget to give thanks before wolfing down his food. Hanna may or may not have noticed his tactfulness as she laid out his utensils and poured wine into his cup. He scooped the beans into his mouth with a spoon, and his salt-deprived body was happy.
"I don't mind so much that we lost our two helpers so quickly, but if you collapsed, sir, we'd lose everything."
Shivering at the luxury of washing down salty food with wine, he cut himself another slice of the well-preserved meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
He was finally getting used to being called "sir."
"Of course, I plan on hiring new workers, but I don't think this excitement is going to last much longer. It's almost time for spring to arrive at the bottom of the mountain."
"Oh, it's almost that time already? The winters are so long up here in the mountains, you forget about the rest of the seasons."
"You're not excited for spring, Hanna?"
The word winter carried the same meaning as the word perseverance for those who lived in the mountains, where the snow piled high. Everything—people and animals and trees—withdrew, dreaming of the release spring would bring.
"That's not quite true, sir. But once winter's over, everyone goes down the mountain, and the bathhouse is slow until summer. That makes me a little sad."
She crossed her arms and touched her cheek, gazing off into the distance, and Lawrence forced a smile. He should have felt the same—his purpose in life was supposed to be working hard and staying busy—but Hanna was special. In terms of being a helper, no one could be more reassuring than she was. But Lawrence pined for spring's arrival as much as anyone else. He for the chance to rest that season would provide, since his body could not handle strain like it used to. In light of all this, Hanna's words stung a little.
On the other hand, as a former merchant who could not stand pointless waste, the period between winter and summer bothered him like a rock in his shoe. If he could get some customers to come during that time, then he could rest and work and profit all at once, but plans for that were not progressing much.
"Anyway, is your wife still asleep?"
It was long past noon, but the bathhouse's mistress was nowhere to be seen.
Lawrence put more baked beans to his mouth and rewarded himself with some high-quality imported wine before biting into meat he covered in mustard. Then he spoke.
"She's the kind that can't wait for spring."
"My."
Hanna gave a small smile. "I'll go prepare for dinner." And she returned to the kitchen.
Lawrence took his time eating, and when he finished, he washed the dishes himself. Then he immediately poured wine into a small carafe and headed for their bedroom on the second floor of the bathhouse.
| "Hey, how long are you planning on sleeping?" He called out to the lump on the bed, but not a single word came in response. The tightly curled bulge seemed to indicate closing the window would not be worth the effort.
Exasperated, Lawrence sighed and placed the wine on a desk where a quill and stacks of papers sat. There was still no answer, and he began to feel a bit worried.
"Holo?"
He called, but there was no movement. He approached the bed and gently pulled back the covers. Underneath was the sleeping face of a teenage girl. Usually, she arranged her hair and clothes to appear less girl-like, but looking at her now, he could see how young she appeared to be. She had long hair like nobility, and her spotless, pearl-like skin did not seem at all like it belonged to someone whose livelihood included hard labor. The way she quietly lay there—eyes closed, unmoving—was as though she had been freed from all sorts of pain and agony. Her peaceful face almost made him think, If I was to die, I'd want to die like this.
As Lawrence's finger touched her cheek, the girl's ears twitched. They topped her head, large and pointy. They were triangular and a shade darker than her flaxen hair. Simply put, they were animal ears, and they protruded outward. What's more, a tail covered in a fine coat of fur grew from her lower back. Holo was not the young girl she seemed, and her true form was a wolf that could easily devour a person in one bite, a spirit that had slept hundreds of years in wheat.
Lawrence could not thank the gods enough for the luck that, in some twist of fate, led her to become his wife.
But daily life did not play out like a fairy tale.
Lawrence saw her rather fidgety ears, which were unlike her unchanging, sleeping expression, and sighed. "If you want to eat, get up and come down to the dining hall."
With that, her sleeping face finally changed. She tightened her already-shut eyes, curled up even more into a taut ball, and the ears on her head wiggled. Under the blanket, her tail was most likely wagging in response to what she heard.
"Haaaahh...ahhh."
At last Holo gave a silly-sounding yawn and opened her eyes just slightly.
"I do not wish to get up..." She spoke selfishly, sounding like a frail, spoiled princess. "Must you keep me up so late all the time...?"
She glanced at him with accusing eyes. But she was not wrong.
"Well, for that...I'm grateful," Lawrence said and leaned closer to Holo's face. "But the sleeping beauty should wake up with this, shouldn't she?"
He kissed her cheek. Holo closed her eyes, and her ears twitched as though she was embarrassed.
He thought that he would grow bored after living under the same roof for ten years, but he did not feel that in the slightest.
What happiness. He smiled to himself, and Holo smiled, too.
"Really, you fool."
"I know you're exhausted from working every night, but you really need to get up. The mending is piling up."
Holo seemed to surrender when Lawrence brought up reality. She gave one last big yawn and crawled out from underneath the blanket. Asking her to do other kinds of work would cause her to complain endlessly, but surprisingly, needlework seemed to suit her very well, and her work was careful and neat.
"Ooh, how cold!"
"Here, wear this."
Lawrence gave his trembling wife a woolen robe to wear and handed her a cup with some wine.
"Not enough." She complained like a child.
"If you're going to drink, do it after you eat. It looks bad if the lady of the house is drunk midday."
"So strict, as always."
Holo grumbled and sipped the wine.
"And? How was last night?" Lawrence asked Holo as they left the room, respectfully putting his arm around her, as though guiding a princess.
"You always fall asleep right away now."
Holo lightly hit his shoulder in complaint.
He partially dodged the blow and cleared his throat. "Isn't that you?" And then he added, "That's, well...That's something I want to work on..."
"Heh-heh. For it is a busy season, yes?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Hey, how long are you planning on sleeping?" He called out to the lump on the bed, but not a single word came in response. The tightly curled bulge seemed to indicate closing the window would not be worth the effort.
Exasperated, Lawrence sighed and placed the wine on a desk where a quill and stacks of papers sat. There was still no answer, and he began to feel a bit worried.
"Holo?"
He called, but there was no movement. He approached the bed and gently pulled back the covers. Underneath was the sleeping face of a teenage girl. Usually, she arranged her hair and clothes to appear less girl-like, but looking at her now, he could see how young she appeared to be. She had long hair like nobility, and her spotless, pearl-like skin did not seem at all like it belonged to someone whose livelihood included hard labor. The way she quietly lay there—eyes closed, unmoving—was as though she had been freed from all sorts of pain and agony. Her peaceful face almost made him think, If I was to die, I'd want to die like this.
As Lawrence's finger touched her cheek, the girl's ears twitched. They topped her head, large and pointy. They were triangular and a shade darker than her flaxen hair. Simply put, they were animal ears, and they protruded outward. What's more, a tail covered in a fine coat of fur grew from her lower back. Holo was not the young girl she seemed, and her true form was a wolf that could easily devour a person in one bite, a spirit that had slept hundreds of years in wheat.
Lawrence could not thank the gods enough for the luck that, in some twist of fate, led her to become his wife.
But daily life did not play out like a fairy tale.
Lawrence saw her rather fidgety ears, which were unlike her unchanging, sleeping expression, and sighed. "If you want to eat, get up and come down to the dining hall."
With that, her sleeping face finally changed. She tightened her already-shut eyes, curled up even more into a taut ball, and the ears on her head wiggled. Under the blanket, her tail was most likely wagging in response to what she heard.
"Haaaahh...ahhh."
At last Holo gave a silly-sounding yawn and opened her eyes just slightly.
"I do not wish to get up..." She spoke selfishly, sounding like a frail, spoiled princess. "Must you keep me up so late all the time...?"
She glanced at him with accusing eyes. But she was not wrong.
"Well, for that...I'm grateful," Lawrence said and leaned closer to Holo's face. "But the sleeping beauty should wake up with this, shouldn't she?"
He kissed her cheek. Holo closed her eyes, and her ears twitched as though she was embarrassed.
He thought that he would grow bored after living under the same roof for ten years, but he did not feel that in the slightest.
What happiness. He smiled to himself, and Holo smiled, too.
"Really, you fool."
"I know you're exhausted from working every night, but you really need to get up. The mending is piling up."
Holo seemed to surrender when Lawrence brought up reality. She gave one last big yawn and crawled out from underneath the blanket. Asking her to do other kinds of work would cause her to complain endlessly, but surprisingly, needlework seemed to suit her very well, and her work was careful and neat.
"Ooh, how cold!"
"Here, wear this."
Lawrence gave his trembling wife a woolen robe to wear and handed her a cup with some wine.
"Not enough." She complained like a child.
"If you're going to drink, do it after you eat. It looks bad if the lady of the house is drunk midday."
"So strict, as always."
Holo grumbled and sipped the wine.
"And? How was last night?" Lawrence asked Holo as they left the room, respectfully putting his arm around her, as though guiding a princess.
"You always fall asleep right away now."
Holo lightly hit his shoulder in complaint.
He partially dodged the blow and cleared his throat. "Isn't that you?" And then he added, "That's, well...That's something I want to work on..."
"Heh-heh. For it is a busy season, yes?"
| "And about the mountain last night, 'tis well. I rid the dangerous areas of snow."
"I see. Thanks for that."
Recently, it had been snowing nonstop, and the sun had been stronger with the approaching spring, so there was a risk of avalanches.
Lately, people were carrying more and more goods down the mountain paths. So, the past few days, Holo would return to her wolf form at night and check the worrisome areas.
There was nothing Lawrence could do about it, and it pained him to leave it to Holo. What little comfort he did have was that Holo being Holo, she seemed to have a good time running around the mountains as a wolf. And she seemed to enjoy returning home in the early hours of the morning and throwing her chilled body into the baths while no one was around.
"It's going to be pretty busy tonight until the customers go home, so I appreciate it."
"I do not mind. Smiles when they come and smiles when they go is our bathhouse's selling point."
Running a bathhouse was different from doing everything alone as a merchant. There were times when it was troublesome, but having someone working with him by his side took that trouble and made it his happiness. Lawrence replied to his wife with a pleased expression and a nod, and Holo beamed back a smile like a young girl.
As they went down to the first floor, Holo restlessly pulled the thin robe over her head. Sometimes she felt it was fine to leave it down since their customers were drunk all the time, but she could not let anyone get a good look at her ears. The only ones who knew about her identity in Nyohhira were the ones who worked at this bathhouse.
Entering the dining hall, Hanna brought Holo food, as though she had been listening for their footsteps. There was not too much, but the beans-to-meat ratio leaned much more in favor of meat this time, compared to Lawrence's meal. He smiled wryly. While aware that she was still young, seeing Holo eat this much meat right after waking had him worrying.
He understood and was prepared for the huge difference in life spans between himself and Holo, the avatar of the wolf-who-lived-in-wheat. But slowly, he experienced more and more moments that underscored the reality.
Understanding it with his head was different from seeing it happen in daily life.
Every time he realized it again, he thought about how he wanted to appreciate each and every day.
"Oh."
"Hmm?"
Lawrence gazed at the tomboyish Holo, who was deliciously gulping down meat before speaking slowly.
"'Tis you that must deal with all the trouble. You've been without rest since you lost the other helpers."
"Yeah, well, that's all right. It should be busy for only a bit more, and really I've been too easy on Col. He said he wanted to travel, but I couldn't really stop him."
Over ten years ago, when he met Holo and traveled here and there, getting into all sorts of adventures, they met a boy—Col. At the time, he was a wandering student trying to learn theology and was even younger than how young Holo had already looked.
And now he was a young man the same age as Lawrence was then, and the thought made the older man dread the passage of time.
At the same time, despite all the ups and downs, he felt guilty having Col work in the bathhouse forever when it had always been his dream to become a clergyman.
So Col, after hearing a story from a guest one day, could no longer stand it and finally decided to ask permission to leave on a journey; Lawrence had no choice but to support him.
"But I also think that maybe I should have had him wait until spring, honestly."
"Hmm. Om, om...gulp. Well, that Col is oddly diligent. If he let that chance get away from him, he would likely still be dragging his feet for who knows how long. I feel 'twas not wrong of you to send him off like that."
"That makes me feel better. I don't want to get in the way of a kid with his whole future ahead of him."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "And about the mountain last night, 'tis well. I rid the dangerous areas of snow."
"I see. Thanks for that."
Recently, it had been snowing nonstop, and the sun had been stronger with the approaching spring, so there was a risk of avalanches.
Lately, people were carrying more and more goods down the mountain paths. So, the past few days, Holo would return to her wolf form at night and check the worrisome areas.
There was nothing Lawrence could do about it, and it pained him to leave it to Holo. What little comfort he did have was that Holo being Holo, she seemed to have a good time running around the mountains as a wolf. And she seemed to enjoy returning home in the early hours of the morning and throwing her chilled body into the baths while no one was around.
"It's going to be pretty busy tonight until the customers go home, so I appreciate it."
"I do not mind. Smiles when they come and smiles when they go is our bathhouse's selling point."
Running a bathhouse was different from doing everything alone as a merchant. There were times when it was troublesome, but having someone working with him by his side took that trouble and made it his happiness. Lawrence replied to his wife with a pleased expression and a nod, and Holo beamed back a smile like a young girl.
As they went down to the first floor, Holo restlessly pulled the thin robe over her head. Sometimes she felt it was fine to leave it down since their customers were drunk all the time, but she could not let anyone get a good look at her ears. The only ones who knew about her identity in Nyohhira were the ones who worked at this bathhouse.
Entering the dining hall, Hanna brought Holo food, as though she had been listening for their footsteps. There was not too much, but the beans-to-meat ratio leaned much more in favor of meat this time, compared to Lawrence's meal. He smiled wryly. While aware that she was still young, seeing Holo eat this much meat right after waking had him worrying.
He understood and was prepared for the huge difference in life spans between himself and Holo, the avatar of the wolf-who-lived-in-wheat. But slowly, he experienced more and more moments that underscored the reality.
Understanding it with his head was different from seeing it happen in daily life.
Every time he realized it again, he thought about how he wanted to appreciate each and every day.
"Oh."
"Hmm?"
Lawrence gazed at the tomboyish Holo, who was deliciously gulping down meat before speaking slowly.
"'Tis you that must deal with all the trouble. You've been without rest since you lost the other helpers."
"Yeah, well, that's all right. It should be busy for only a bit more, and really I've been too easy on Col. He said he wanted to travel, but I couldn't really stop him."
Over ten years ago, when he met Holo and traveled here and there, getting into all sorts of adventures, they met a boy—Col. At the time, he was a wandering student trying to learn theology and was even younger than how young Holo had already looked.
And now he was a young man the same age as Lawrence was then, and the thought made the older man dread the passage of time.
At the same time, despite all the ups and downs, he felt guilty having Col work in the bathhouse forever when it had always been his dream to become a clergyman.
So Col, after hearing a story from a guest one day, could no longer stand it and finally decided to ask permission to leave on a journey; Lawrence had no choice but to support him.
"But I also think that maybe I should have had him wait until spring, honestly."
"Hmm. Om, om...gulp. Well, that Col is oddly diligent. If he let that chance get away from him, he would likely still be dragging his feet for who knows how long. I feel 'twas not wrong of you to send him off like that."
"That makes me feel better. I don't want to get in the way of a kid with his whole future ahead of him."
| "Indeed, but I never thought it would be an excuse to elope."
Clang! The tin cup fell, the cask tipped over, and the spilled wine spread slowly across the long table.
Lawrence desperately tried to cover his agitation, which had rushed out just like the wine, by reaching out to the cup and the cask, but it was not much use. Hanna heard the noise and came over with a cloth, while Holo just laughed and laughed.
"Heh-heh. You really are a fool! Why not just accept it?"
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
Lawrence spoke in a stiff wooden tone while lending Hanna a hand. Hanna's glance contained a bit of a smile. After they wiped up the wine, Lawrence sat in his chair and Holo waved a knife tip in his direction.
"Col's a good male, no? You don't think 'twould be good for him to take over after you?"
"Ghrh..."
Holo's logic was dead-on, and that was definitely how he felt. But understanding it in his mind and actually confronting it head-on were two different things. Lawrence was acutely aware of this every day.
And if this conversation pivoted toward the topic of their daughter, he likely would not be able to keep it together.
Indeed, the reason managing the bathhouse had become so dizzyingly involved lately was not just because they were lucky their customers valued them greatly. It was also because Lawrence was filling in for the two young helpers after they left. One of those helpers was the aforementioned Col. And the other who made a completely unexpected departure was Lawrence and Holo's only daughter, Myuri.
Just as Col was leaving on his journey, of all things their daughter also took off from the bathhouse and followed right after.
Of course, there were several answers to the question Why?, but it was clear that one particular matter sat prominently in the middle of all this. This village was small, and the bathhouse even smaller. Who liked whom was quite obvious.
"It's too early for her to get married."
Though he thought he had tried to make a reasonable objection, both Holo and Hanna began to laugh. It was the laughter shared between two women who were confirming with each other that men, no matter how old, were always foolish.
"Then when is it not too early?"
"Um...mmnm..."
"Sir, don't stress yourself out."
Agonizing over Holo's remark and then Hanna's words, which could be taken as either comforting or teasing, Lawrence finally plugged his ears. Reason was not going to help him much. He knew. He knew! Since the very day his daughter was born, he was prepared for this moment.
"Heh-heh. Then what a relief she chose to elope with Col."
"It is not an elopement!"
But it seemed that no matter what, Lawrence would object. Holo and Hanna cackled in delight together. He wished he could drink with other bathhouse owners.
"Besides, I do not see what you could gain from not sharing what you want to say with your beloved. Rather, for someone who is my daughter, she is a taking her time a stretch too long."
It seemed as though Holo was jealous in her own way.
All things considered, Lawrence thought that Holo had no right to speak about people holding back their feelings, recalling memories of their journey from over ten years ago. Of course, if he actually said such a thing, he knew what would happen, so he stayed his tongue.
"Do you think it's due to the influence from the many churchmen?"
"The Church?"
Lawrence didn't seem to follow, and Holo twirled the tip of her knife as though hauling in a string from her head.
"Aye. They have the odd habit in never saying what matters until they die."
"Oh, you mean their final confessions."
"Aye, that."
Praying for reconciliation with God at death's door, people confessed various things to a priest, mostly sins or final requests. Some of these people were stubborn old men who would finally share their hidden thoughts with their family or divulge immoral love—anything imaginable could come out in these moments, so Holo was not exactly mistaken.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Indeed, but I never thought it would be an excuse to elope."
Clang! The tin cup fell, the cask tipped over, and the spilled wine spread slowly across the long table.
Lawrence desperately tried to cover his agitation, which had rushed out just like the wine, by reaching out to the cup and the cask, but it was not much use. Hanna heard the noise and came over with a cloth, while Holo just laughed and laughed.
"Heh-heh. You really are a fool! Why not just accept it?"
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
Lawrence spoke in a stiff wooden tone while lending Hanna a hand. Hanna's glance contained a bit of a smile. After they wiped up the wine, Lawrence sat in his chair and Holo waved a knife tip in his direction.
"Col's a good male, no? You don't think 'twould be good for him to take over after you?"
"Ghrh..."
Holo's logic was dead-on, and that was definitely how he felt. But understanding it in his mind and actually confronting it head-on were two different things. Lawrence was acutely aware of this every day.
And if this conversation pivoted toward the topic of their daughter, he likely would not be able to keep it together.
Indeed, the reason managing the bathhouse had become so dizzyingly involved lately was not just because they were lucky their customers valued them greatly. It was also because Lawrence was filling in for the two young helpers after they left. One of those helpers was the aforementioned Col. And the other who made a completely unexpected departure was Lawrence and Holo's only daughter, Myuri.
Just as Col was leaving on his journey, of all things their daughter also took off from the bathhouse and followed right after.
Of course, there were several answers to the question Why?, but it was clear that one particular matter sat prominently in the middle of all this. This village was small, and the bathhouse even smaller. Who liked whom was quite obvious.
"It's too early for her to get married."
Though he thought he had tried to make a reasonable objection, both Holo and Hanna began to laugh. It was the laughter shared between two women who were confirming with each other that men, no matter how old, were always foolish.
"Then when is it not too early?"
"Um...mmnm..."
"Sir, don't stress yourself out."
Agonizing over Holo's remark and then Hanna's words, which could be taken as either comforting or teasing, Lawrence finally plugged his ears. Reason was not going to help him much. He knew. He knew! Since the very day his daughter was born, he was prepared for this moment.
"Heh-heh. Then what a relief she chose to elope with Col."
"It is not an elopement!"
But it seemed that no matter what, Lawrence would object. Holo and Hanna cackled in delight together. He wished he could drink with other bathhouse owners.
"Besides, I do not see what you could gain from not sharing what you want to say with your beloved. Rather, for someone who is my daughter, she is a taking her time a stretch too long."
It seemed as though Holo was jealous in her own way.
All things considered, Lawrence thought that Holo had no right to speak about people holding back their feelings, recalling memories of their journey from over ten years ago. Of course, if he actually said such a thing, he knew what would happen, so he stayed his tongue.
"Do you think it's due to the influence from the many churchmen?"
"The Church?"
Lawrence didn't seem to follow, and Holo twirled the tip of her knife as though hauling in a string from her head.
"Aye. They have the odd habit in never saying what matters until they die."
"Oh, you mean their final confessions."
"Aye, that."
Praying for reconciliation with God at death's door, people confessed various things to a priest, mostly sins or final requests. Some of these people were stubborn old men who would finally share their hidden thoughts with their family or divulge immoral love—anything imaginable could come out in these moments, so Holo was not exactly mistaken.
| Lawrence agreed, especially now that he had reached a certain age, and trembled at how fast time flew. Younglings should live fast and wild.
However, just as Lawrence was thinking about how it was much too early for Myuri to fall in love and marry, Holo suddenly spoke.
"Besides, I want to hurry and see the faces of my grandchildren."
"What! Wha...!"
Lawrence was left speechless, unable to breath in or out. True, they would definitely be cute, but Myuri was still a child. She may have been at the age where it was socially acceptable for her to wed, but she was much too young. There was no mistaking that. There was acceptable by society's standards, and then there was acceptable by the family's standards.
As Lawrence tried to push away the fast-approaching reality, Holo leisurely drank her wine. Her composure came from either the difference between his and her age or the difference between a mother and a father.
It was the same when Col said he was going to leave and began his preparations before finally leaving. It was then they found out their daughter, who had always said she wanted to see the wide world outside the mountain village, had somehow snuck into Col's luggage.
Traveling came with danger, and thinking on his only daughter's safety, Lawrence was too impatient to write a letter, but Holo had admonished him when he tried to go after her on a sled.
"It will be fine," she had laughed.
There was a saying that went, "If you love your children, send them out into the world." Though he agreed in principle when watching how Holo acted, he could not accept it all.
Holo ignored Lawrence, who was groaning beside her, and she spoke thoughtfully with eyes closed, as though soaking in the baths.
"'Tis good enough, at any rate, if she is enjoying her first journey."
Though she seemed irresponsible, it was not as though she had no worries. Lawrence glared at Holo, who he felt tended to keep all the best parts of parenthood to herself.
Holo drew him close to her, smiling dryly.
"Everything fades with time. But I shall be by your side forever."
Holo, shorter than Lawrence, gazed up at him with her beautifully shaped eyes.
"Is there anything wrong with that?"
When she said that, there was no way he could respond. To Holo, who would live for hundreds of years, everything happening before her now was just one scene of a brief journey. It was too much for her, and once she had tried to end things with Lawrence—thinking if she must see him off, it may as well be when goodbyes would not cut so deep. But she had chosen the fleeting happiness over the pain of parting.
Lawrence relaxed his shoulders, giving in to her.
"Don't be silly."
"Heh-heh."
She gave a small laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. He lay his hand atop Holo the Wisewolf, her head round and small enough that his fingers fit snugly around it.
Surely this was the greatest extent of happiness that he could hold onto with his own hands.
And that was more than enough.
"Would you like some more wine?" Lawrence asked, and Holo answered, "Only if you have some, too."
Lawrence could only laugh. "I can't win against you."
Lightly, he kissed the top of her head and handed the empty cask to an astonished Hanna.
That night happened to be the date of the monthly town meeting. In the wavering moonlight, Lawrence carried food and drink along the road, shivering. When he first came to this village, he could not shake the eerie feeling nighttime gave him on this remote mountain, but now he was completely used to it.
And during this season when there were many visitors, inviting fires burned late into the night throughout the entire village, while the sounds of laughter and music drifted all over. The scene had an ethereal, fantastical air about it, and sometimes he would occasionally come out with Holo to gaze upon it.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence agreed, especially now that he had reached a certain age, and trembled at how fast time flew. Younglings should live fast and wild.
However, just as Lawrence was thinking about how it was much too early for Myuri to fall in love and marry, Holo suddenly spoke.
"Besides, I want to hurry and see the faces of my grandchildren."
"What! Wha...!"
Lawrence was left speechless, unable to breath in or out. True, they would definitely be cute, but Myuri was still a child. She may have been at the age where it was socially acceptable for her to wed, but she was much too young. There was no mistaking that. There was acceptable by society's standards, and then there was acceptable by the family's standards.
As Lawrence tried to push away the fast-approaching reality, Holo leisurely drank her wine. Her composure came from either the difference between his and her age or the difference between a mother and a father.
It was the same when Col said he was going to leave and began his preparations before finally leaving. It was then they found out their daughter, who had always said she wanted to see the wide world outside the mountain village, had somehow snuck into Col's luggage.
Traveling came with danger, and thinking on his only daughter's safety, Lawrence was too impatient to write a letter, but Holo had admonished him when he tried to go after her on a sled.
"It will be fine," she had laughed.
There was a saying that went, "If you love your children, send them out into the world." Though he agreed in principle when watching how Holo acted, he could not accept it all.
Holo ignored Lawrence, who was groaning beside her, and she spoke thoughtfully with eyes closed, as though soaking in the baths.
"'Tis good enough, at any rate, if she is enjoying her first journey."
Though she seemed irresponsible, it was not as though she had no worries. Lawrence glared at Holo, who he felt tended to keep all the best parts of parenthood to herself.
Holo drew him close to her, smiling dryly.
"Everything fades with time. But I shall be by your side forever."
Holo, shorter than Lawrence, gazed up at him with her beautifully shaped eyes.
"Is there anything wrong with that?"
When she said that, there was no way he could respond. To Holo, who would live for hundreds of years, everything happening before her now was just one scene of a brief journey. It was too much for her, and once she had tried to end things with Lawrence—thinking if she must see him off, it may as well be when goodbyes would not cut so deep. But she had chosen the fleeting happiness over the pain of parting.
Lawrence relaxed his shoulders, giving in to her.
"Don't be silly."
"Heh-heh."
She gave a small laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. He lay his hand atop Holo the Wisewolf, her head round and small enough that his fingers fit snugly around it.
Surely this was the greatest extent of happiness that he could hold onto with his own hands.
And that was more than enough.
"Would you like some more wine?" Lawrence asked, and Holo answered, "Only if you have some, too."
Lawrence could only laugh. "I can't win against you."
Lightly, he kissed the top of her head and handed the empty cask to an astonished Hanna.
That night happened to be the date of the monthly town meeting. In the wavering moonlight, Lawrence carried food and drink along the road, shivering. When he first came to this village, he could not shake the eerie feeling nighttime gave him on this remote mountain, but now he was completely used to it.
And during this season when there were many visitors, inviting fires burned late into the night throughout the entire village, while the sounds of laughter and music drifted all over. The scene had an ethereal, fantastical air about it, and sometimes he would occasionally come out with Holo to gaze upon it.
| But this was both a good thing and a bad thing.
"Ooh! Our Sir Lawrence has finally come!"
As he entered the torch-lit community center, cheers bubbled up all at once.
Lawrence was bewildered, but other bathhouse owners came up to him, already red in the face, and patted him on the shoulders.
"Well, well, Lawrence! Let us drink till dawn!"
"Huh? Ah, right."
Although it had been some ten odd years since they came to this village, most of the bathhouses were as old as Lawrence if they had not been in business for even longer. He had to behave in front of his seniors, but at the same time they were competitors in business, and so they did not act too familiar with their fellows. If anything, these people occasionally stole materials or supplies from one another, and more often than not they were cold and unfriendly toward their peers.
This is sudden, he thought, and one man holding his drink spoke.
"Lawrence, I know it's tough, but it's not all hardships!"
"Ah...Um, I'm sorry?"
"It's fine, it's fine! We know well how difficult it is to let your daughter go!"
"Huh? Oh yes..."
Lawrence finally realized the identities of the people that kept offering him alcohol.
Most of them were parents with daughters.
"Um, well, it's not that they would end up together..."
"Oh no, we know you don't want to accept it, we know!"
Another person aggressively tried to reassure Lawrence, and he offered a vague smile in return. But in his heart, he kept repeating to himself, They're not eloping, they're not eloping!
"All right, gentlemen! Sorry to interrupt your merriment, but please leave it for after the meeting."
There was a clapping of hands, and like awakening from a spell, everyone returned to their seats.
But there were some who, after returning to their seats, still recalled when they married their daughters off and were sobbing. Lawrence saw them and was filled with warmth rather than surprise. Though they were competitors, constantly fighting without mercy over sales and business, they were still members of the same community.
"Well then, today will probably be the last wintertime meeting. In other words, next month the snows should melt, and our customers will depart. And then we'll have troublesome days ahead of us what with repairing all the buildings as well as preparations for the summer season, and again, allotting our imports."
Seated at a long table, the bathhouse owners smiled tersely. The roads leading to Nyohhira were small, and they depended on a single town, Svernel, for the delivery of their resources and supplies. It always ended in a scramble for goods.
"Oh, about that, I've heard something that worries me." One man raised his hand and spoke up. "I've heard that there's going to be another hot spring village on the other side of the western mountains."
"Oh yeah, I've heard that, too."
"Is that true?"
"If it's on the other mountain side, how will it affect the flow of patrons...?"
"Silence!"
The chairman cut off the growing murmurs, and quiet fell again. Lawrence had heard the same thing from a musician who said that people might not come to Nyohhira next year.
"I was told that, too, and it's apparently true," relayed the owner of Spice and Wolf.
Then anxiety crept into their feet. No one wanted more competition, but what everyone cared about the most was the question of where this new town would get its resources.
"And they might have Svernel supply their materials, too."
"Oh, God!" someone yelled. Much like how much water a river could hold, the amount one was able to carry deep into the mountains was more or less set in stone.
And should these new competitors get their materials from Svernel, then that meant the new location would have a road straight from the town that guests would take.
This meant two villages would fight over patrons.
"If this were back in my time, we'd be going there now armed with clubs, but that won't do."
After the chairman spoke, the crowd's anxiety became ripples of laughter.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But this was both a good thing and a bad thing.
"Ooh! Our Sir Lawrence has finally come!"
As he entered the torch-lit community center, cheers bubbled up all at once.
Lawrence was bewildered, but other bathhouse owners came up to him, already red in the face, and patted him on the shoulders.
"Well, well, Lawrence! Let us drink till dawn!"
"Huh? Ah, right."
Although it had been some ten odd years since they came to this village, most of the bathhouses were as old as Lawrence if they had not been in business for even longer. He had to behave in front of his seniors, but at the same time they were competitors in business, and so they did not act too familiar with their fellows. If anything, these people occasionally stole materials or supplies from one another, and more often than not they were cold and unfriendly toward their peers.
This is sudden, he thought, and one man holding his drink spoke.
"Lawrence, I know it's tough, but it's not all hardships!"
"Ah...Um, I'm sorry?"
"It's fine, it's fine! We know well how difficult it is to let your daughter go!"
"Huh? Oh yes..."
Lawrence finally realized the identities of the people that kept offering him alcohol.
Most of them were parents with daughters.
"Um, well, it's not that they would end up together..."
"Oh no, we know you don't want to accept it, we know!"
Another person aggressively tried to reassure Lawrence, and he offered a vague smile in return. But in his heart, he kept repeating to himself, They're not eloping, they're not eloping!
"All right, gentlemen! Sorry to interrupt your merriment, but please leave it for after the meeting."
There was a clapping of hands, and like awakening from a spell, everyone returned to their seats.
But there were some who, after returning to their seats, still recalled when they married their daughters off and were sobbing. Lawrence saw them and was filled with warmth rather than surprise. Though they were competitors, constantly fighting without mercy over sales and business, they were still members of the same community.
"Well then, today will probably be the last wintertime meeting. In other words, next month the snows should melt, and our customers will depart. And then we'll have troublesome days ahead of us what with repairing all the buildings as well as preparations for the summer season, and again, allotting our imports."
Seated at a long table, the bathhouse owners smiled tersely. The roads leading to Nyohhira were small, and they depended on a single town, Svernel, for the delivery of their resources and supplies. It always ended in a scramble for goods.
"Oh, about that, I've heard something that worries me." One man raised his hand and spoke up. "I've heard that there's going to be another hot spring village on the other side of the western mountains."
"Oh yeah, I've heard that, too."
"Is that true?"
"If it's on the other mountain side, how will it affect the flow of patrons...?"
"Silence!"
The chairman cut off the growing murmurs, and quiet fell again. Lawrence had heard the same thing from a musician who said that people might not come to Nyohhira next year.
"I was told that, too, and it's apparently true," relayed the owner of Spice and Wolf.
Then anxiety crept into their feet. No one wanted more competition, but what everyone cared about the most was the question of where this new town would get its resources.
"And they might have Svernel supply their materials, too."
"Oh, God!" someone yelled. Much like how much water a river could hold, the amount one was able to carry deep into the mountains was more or less set in stone.
And should these new competitors get their materials from Svernel, then that meant the new location would have a road straight from the town that guests would take.
This meant two villages would fight over patrons.
"If this were back in my time, we'd be going there now armed with clubs, but that won't do."
After the chairman spoke, the crowd's anxiety became ripples of laughter.
| "That's right!" came voices of agreement.
"But what should we do?"
One person asked the obvious question, and everyone clammed up.
The chairman gave a small smile, cleared his throat, and looked suddenly toward Lawrence.
"This is when I propose we seriously consider what Sir Lawrence suggested previously."
Lawrence felt nervous as everyone turned their eyes on him, but he immediately understood.
"Ah, is this about the new village event?"
"Why, yes."
Lawrence suggested several years ago to hold something during the off-peak seasons of spring and fall. Spring and fall were crammed full of festivals and markets and religious celebrations all over, so normally no one would go out of their way to visit a far and inconvenient-to-reach spa.
Thus, business slowed to a crawl and it was too expensive to feed and board the helpers that had been hired in the winter, but if they were let go, there was no way to know if they would be able to work again in the summer—such extreme changes in customer turnout throughout the seasons brought about too much waste.
The plan was that if there were some fun event here in the spring and fall, then they could expect new customers.
"But then why did we drop it last time?" one participant wondered aloud.
"I think it was because it seemed like too much work. I want a break in the spring and fall at least." At the time, Lawrence thought that these owners had lapsed into complacency, but lately he had begun to understand how they felt. Working as a merchant, where potentially lost profits urged him to continually move forward, was different from owning a bathhouse—living in the same place and doing the same work for years.
"While we sit around like that, we might have our legs cut out from underneath us. Like the Church," the chairman announced gravely, and the bathhouse owners all crossed their arms, grunting.
Lawrence did not know the details, but apparently at the foot of the mountains, the Church had reached a major turning point. They had officially ended their war with the pagans, who, ten years ago, were already a mere shadow of what they used to be. But right when they thought peace had finally arrived, another enemy appeared from within their own ranks. Col had heard about this from a guest and could not stand idly by. "I have to face this critical moment in history, or I'll regret it for the rest of my life," he had said.
"As you know, the fights with the pagans have ended for now, and so Nyohhira is losing its reputation as a dangerous but nevertheless irresistible uncharted destination within hostile lands. We must act quickly."
The chairman was a descendant of this village, but when he was young, he was an apprentice in a large commercial firm in the south, so his thinking reflected southern perceptions of the region as well.
Since what he said was correct, there were no particular objections and the attendees approved it with applause.
But it was also clear why the praise was a bit hesitant.
"So, what are we going to do?"
The chairman reached out and grabbed the wine cask that sat on the long table.
"We will think together."
A sense of panic hung in the air, but there was no plan. If everyone was to think of something together, the practical troubles would seem endless and they would never reach a conclusion, but if one person came up with an idea, that individual would have to fill in as the coordinator.
And so, they could not be blamed for how the meeting suddenly became a drinking party as they chided one another to think of ideas. This seasonal meeting was also meant as a breather to help everyone keep it together and blow off steam during the busiest time of the year.
Lawrence was also in the presence of fathers with daughters who had all heard about Myuri and Col's "escape," so at the end of the day, nothing got done.
But what Holo had said earlier that day stuck in the corner of Lawrence's mind.
"Everything fades with time."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "That's right!" came voices of agreement.
"But what should we do?"
One person asked the obvious question, and everyone clammed up.
The chairman gave a small smile, cleared his throat, and looked suddenly toward Lawrence.
"This is when I propose we seriously consider what Sir Lawrence suggested previously."
Lawrence felt nervous as everyone turned their eyes on him, but he immediately understood.
"Ah, is this about the new village event?"
"Why, yes."
Lawrence suggested several years ago to hold something during the off-peak seasons of spring and fall. Spring and fall were crammed full of festivals and markets and religious celebrations all over, so normally no one would go out of their way to visit a far and inconvenient-to-reach spa.
Thus, business slowed to a crawl and it was too expensive to feed and board the helpers that had been hired in the winter, but if they were let go, there was no way to know if they would be able to work again in the summer—such extreme changes in customer turnout throughout the seasons brought about too much waste.
The plan was that if there were some fun event here in the spring and fall, then they could expect new customers.
"But then why did we drop it last time?" one participant wondered aloud.
"I think it was because it seemed like too much work. I want a break in the spring and fall at least." At the time, Lawrence thought that these owners had lapsed into complacency, but lately he had begun to understand how they felt. Working as a merchant, where potentially lost profits urged him to continually move forward, was different from owning a bathhouse—living in the same place and doing the same work for years.
"While we sit around like that, we might have our legs cut out from underneath us. Like the Church," the chairman announced gravely, and the bathhouse owners all crossed their arms, grunting.
Lawrence did not know the details, but apparently at the foot of the mountains, the Church had reached a major turning point. They had officially ended their war with the pagans, who, ten years ago, were already a mere shadow of what they used to be. But right when they thought peace had finally arrived, another enemy appeared from within their own ranks. Col had heard about this from a guest and could not stand idly by. "I have to face this critical moment in history, or I'll regret it for the rest of my life," he had said.
"As you know, the fights with the pagans have ended for now, and so Nyohhira is losing its reputation as a dangerous but nevertheless irresistible uncharted destination within hostile lands. We must act quickly."
The chairman was a descendant of this village, but when he was young, he was an apprentice in a large commercial firm in the south, so his thinking reflected southern perceptions of the region as well.
Since what he said was correct, there were no particular objections and the attendees approved it with applause.
But it was also clear why the praise was a bit hesitant.
"So, what are we going to do?"
The chairman reached out and grabbed the wine cask that sat on the long table.
"We will think together."
A sense of panic hung in the air, but there was no plan. If everyone was to think of something together, the practical troubles would seem endless and they would never reach a conclusion, but if one person came up with an idea, that individual would have to fill in as the coordinator.
And so, they could not be blamed for how the meeting suddenly became a drinking party as they chided one another to think of ideas. This seasonal meeting was also meant as a breather to help everyone keep it together and blow off steam during the busiest time of the year.
Lawrence was also in the presence of fathers with daughters who had all heard about Myuri and Col's "escape," so at the end of the day, nothing got done.
But what Holo had said earlier that day stuck in the corner of Lawrence's mind.
"Everything fades with time."
| Thinking of it that way, maybe that was why Myuri tried as hard as she did.
As Lawrence thought this, he made sure to wash away the sentiment with wine.
Venting his stress with late-night drinking at the meeting and the subsequent hangover, Lawrence somehow overcame the daily work that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment and carried on.
But as the guests left, he suddenly found the bathhouse mostly empty.
Thanks to Holo, there were no accidents due to the snow, and it seemed that Nyohhira would safely make it to spring.
"Mmm...Soaking in the sunrise is the best."
That day, when the last reluctant guests were finally pulled away by their minders who had come to retrieve them, Holo jumped into the bath as though she had been long awaiting it. The musicians and dancers also descended the mountain seeking more profit at the spring festivals, so for the moment, it was fine to rest without minding the stares of others.
"Why don't you join me? Wash away all the exhaustion of winter."
"Hmm? Mm..."
Lawrence gave a vague answer and placed the liquor that had been chilled just for her alongside a serving of pork chops and her recent favorite, which she learned from a traveler—cheese drizzled in honey—at the side of the bath.
He was not looking at her beautiful naked body, but instead focused on something completely different.
"Fool!"
"Huh?!"
She suddenly splashed Lawrence with hot spring water, and he jumped back. As he made sure the letter he held was okay, Holo, who had at some point gotten out of the water, snatched it from his grasp.
"How long will you gaze at this? They are fine, and you know they'll be fine despite what happens to them!"
"Uh, ah, mm..."
Lawrence made a face like a sheepdog that had its snacks taken away and followed the letter in her hands with his eyes. It was from Col and Myuri. Col had written the top half and Myuri, the bottom; the second page was one they had done together.
The top half was about how the world was changing even more than the traveling pair had expected after they descended from the mountain, and there was a lot to learn. The bottom half was about how there were so many people and how lively it was in the south, and there was lots of food and other interesting things—all filled with spelling mistakes.
When Lawrence read the part that Myuri had written, he grinned over and over, but when he came to the second page, his face stiffened.
There was a full account of the troubles they had gotten into. When Col would attempt to write calmly, Myuri would butt in and try to write odd things. There were many points where it seemed Col tried to express events gently with Lawrence in mind, but Myuri rewrote them with intentionally exaggerated embellishments.
To sum it up, they had found themselves in quite the pickle, but it somehow worked out in the end. Col had been sick to his stomach with anxiety while Myuri seemed to have really enjoyed it. While Lawrence sympathized with the serious-mannered Col, he was glad that Myuri had fun and could not help but grin. Had the unlikely not happened, he would have been even more anxious.
It was like the life-risking adventure that he and Holo had experienced, but he was distressed for another reason as well.
"Still, they get on quite well, don't you agree?" Holo was glancing over the letter and chuckled. The letter clearly showed how close the two were.
In the same inn, drawing close to one another in the candlelight, shoulders together, holding hands...
"Col is, um, yes, a good brother." Lawrence cleared his throat and spoke, saying the words he had recently discovered that comforted him. "They always have been close like brother and sister, even more than real siblings, eh?"
***
Lawrence insisted, and Holo gave him an astonished look in reply.
"Well, if that is what you wish to believe."
This male has been foolish for all time, she seemed to say, right before she sneezed.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Thinking of it that way, maybe that was why Myuri tried as hard as she did.
As Lawrence thought this, he made sure to wash away the sentiment with wine.
Venting his stress with late-night drinking at the meeting and the subsequent hangover, Lawrence somehow overcame the daily work that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment and carried on.
But as the guests left, he suddenly found the bathhouse mostly empty.
Thanks to Holo, there were no accidents due to the snow, and it seemed that Nyohhira would safely make it to spring.
"Mmm...Soaking in the sunrise is the best."
That day, when the last reluctant guests were finally pulled away by their minders who had come to retrieve them, Holo jumped into the bath as though she had been long awaiting it. The musicians and dancers also descended the mountain seeking more profit at the spring festivals, so for the moment, it was fine to rest without minding the stares of others.
"Why don't you join me? Wash away all the exhaustion of winter."
"Hmm? Mm..."
Lawrence gave a vague answer and placed the liquor that had been chilled just for her alongside a serving of pork chops and her recent favorite, which she learned from a traveler—cheese drizzled in honey—at the side of the bath.
He was not looking at her beautiful naked body, but instead focused on something completely different.
"Fool!"
"Huh?!"
She suddenly splashed Lawrence with hot spring water, and he jumped back. As he made sure the letter he held was okay, Holo, who had at some point gotten out of the water, snatched it from his grasp.
"How long will you gaze at this? They are fine, and you know they'll be fine despite what happens to them!"
"Uh, ah, mm..."
Lawrence made a face like a sheepdog that had its snacks taken away and followed the letter in her hands with his eyes. It was from Col and Myuri. Col had written the top half and Myuri, the bottom; the second page was one they had done together.
The top half was about how the world was changing even more than the traveling pair had expected after they descended from the mountain, and there was a lot to learn. The bottom half was about how there were so many people and how lively it was in the south, and there was lots of food and other interesting things—all filled with spelling mistakes.
When Lawrence read the part that Myuri had written, he grinned over and over, but when he came to the second page, his face stiffened.
There was a full account of the troubles they had gotten into. When Col would attempt to write calmly, Myuri would butt in and try to write odd things. There were many points where it seemed Col tried to express events gently with Lawrence in mind, but Myuri rewrote them with intentionally exaggerated embellishments.
To sum it up, they had found themselves in quite the pickle, but it somehow worked out in the end. Col had been sick to his stomach with anxiety while Myuri seemed to have really enjoyed it. While Lawrence sympathized with the serious-mannered Col, he was glad that Myuri had fun and could not help but grin. Had the unlikely not happened, he would have been even more anxious.
It was like the life-risking adventure that he and Holo had experienced, but he was distressed for another reason as well.
"Still, they get on quite well, don't you agree?" Holo was glancing over the letter and chuckled. The letter clearly showed how close the two were.
In the same inn, drawing close to one another in the candlelight, shoulders together, holding hands...
"Col is, um, yes, a good brother." Lawrence cleared his throat and spoke, saying the words he had recently discovered that comforted him. "They always have been close like brother and sister, even more than real siblings, eh?"
***
Lawrence insisted, and Holo gave him an astonished look in reply.
"Well, if that is what you wish to believe."
This male has been foolish for all time, she seemed to say, right before she sneezed.
| But this letter was the first thing his daughter had ever given him, and so he carefully folded it when he heard Holo's voice.
"Oh, and did you think of anything exciting to do for spring?"
"Mm."
"We were supposed to plan something interesting so the newcomers on the other side of the mountain leave our guests alone, were we not?"
It was what they had talked about at the meeting, but Lawrence's face still looked troubled.
"Well...we couldn't really think of anything."
"There are saint festivals and such every year."
Every town, village, and occupation had a patron saint, and throughout the year there were festivals for the saints held in one way or another. In Nyohhira, they happened in spring, and it was a private affair about rewarding the winter's toils.
"They aren't very unusual or novel, though."
"In that case, how about celebrations offering a large wolf some delicious food? I wouldn't mind."
Holo made her suggestion as she rested her face and elbows on the edge of the bath, kicking and splashing the water with her feet. With her wet hair thrown up in a very unladylike fashion, she looked just like Myuri.
"If we offer you more than this, you won't be able to eat it all."
Expensive delicacies like honeyed cheese were enough. Lawrence picked out a piece, and Holo bared her fangs, seemingly on purpose as a show.
"Hmph. Fine, you traveled here and there as a merchant, yes? There had to be one or two interesting things on the way. Why not borrow from one of those?"
"Hmm...Like the bull-chasing festival, I really liked that."
"Oh?"
"They close off all the side streets in the town and chase a bull. It goes mad, running down the streets, but they say good luck comes to whoever can touch its tail—it's exciting. In the end, they roast it and everyone eats it..."
"Why not that?"
"Every year, someone gets hurt, and there is huge damage to the buildings when the bull smashes into them."
As a traveler, it was exciting going to such a chaotic place, being so close to danger. However, Holo knew the troubles in preparing buildings for a festival like that and the work that went into keeping everything intact. She made a frown, as though imagining the mess a ramming bull would make.
"'Tis...no good."
"Right?"
"Anything else?"
"There's...that. There's a festival where each diocese in the town makes their own team and parades around the town kicking a leather ball."
"That sounds interesting."
"But everyone immediately loses their cool when they take the ball from one another. Even that problem alone would be all right, but there aren't a lot of young people in this town. Everyone will give up right after it starts."
Holo's ears pointed down in disgust, seemingly understanding after imagining the other owners with their bellies sticking out.
"You, too, have been sagging lately."
"Oh...ahem! Then it'll probably end up something like putting on some costumes and celebrating that way. There are events like that here and there."
"'Tis difficult."
Holo kicked the water again and left the edge, meandering with something that looked like a doggy paddle. She seemed more carefree than she actually was with her hair and the fur on her tail spreading out in the water. Had she really not cared, she simply would not discuss it.
Holo worried about the bathhouse and the village in her own way. If not, she probably would not bother going out every night in the deep mountain snow or silently doing all the mending.
"Hmm."
As Lawrence mulled over the ideas in his head, Holo pulled herself up onto the center rock and wrung out her hair, tail wagging.
"Come in!"
She called out to him, showing a smile that was more innocent than Myuri's.
Lawrence still had work to do and waved his hand, but when Holo shot him a disappointed look, he gave in and stripped off his clothes.
"Once you know how enjoyable it is to just laze about, even if someone asked you to come up with some new fun in the spring, of course you wouldn't have any motivation for it."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But this letter was the first thing his daughter had ever given him, and so he carefully folded it when he heard Holo's voice.
"Oh, and did you think of anything exciting to do for spring?"
"Mm."
"We were supposed to plan something interesting so the newcomers on the other side of the mountain leave our guests alone, were we not?"
It was what they had talked about at the meeting, but Lawrence's face still looked troubled.
"Well...we couldn't really think of anything."
"There are saint festivals and such every year."
Every town, village, and occupation had a patron saint, and throughout the year there were festivals for the saints held in one way or another. In Nyohhira, they happened in spring, and it was a private affair about rewarding the winter's toils.
"They aren't very unusual or novel, though."
"In that case, how about celebrations offering a large wolf some delicious food? I wouldn't mind."
Holo made her suggestion as she rested her face and elbows on the edge of the bath, kicking and splashing the water with her feet. With her wet hair thrown up in a very unladylike fashion, she looked just like Myuri.
"If we offer you more than this, you won't be able to eat it all."
Expensive delicacies like honeyed cheese were enough. Lawrence picked out a piece, and Holo bared her fangs, seemingly on purpose as a show.
"Hmph. Fine, you traveled here and there as a merchant, yes? There had to be one or two interesting things on the way. Why not borrow from one of those?"
"Hmm...Like the bull-chasing festival, I really liked that."
"Oh?"
"They close off all the side streets in the town and chase a bull. It goes mad, running down the streets, but they say good luck comes to whoever can touch its tail—it's exciting. In the end, they roast it and everyone eats it..."
"Why not that?"
"Every year, someone gets hurt, and there is huge damage to the buildings when the bull smashes into them."
As a traveler, it was exciting going to such a chaotic place, being so close to danger. However, Holo knew the troubles in preparing buildings for a festival like that and the work that went into keeping everything intact. She made a frown, as though imagining the mess a ramming bull would make.
"'Tis...no good."
"Right?"
"Anything else?"
"There's...that. There's a festival where each diocese in the town makes their own team and parades around the town kicking a leather ball."
"That sounds interesting."
"But everyone immediately loses their cool when they take the ball from one another. Even that problem alone would be all right, but there aren't a lot of young people in this town. Everyone will give up right after it starts."
Holo's ears pointed down in disgust, seemingly understanding after imagining the other owners with their bellies sticking out.
"You, too, have been sagging lately."
"Oh...ahem! Then it'll probably end up something like putting on some costumes and celebrating that way. There are events like that here and there."
"'Tis difficult."
Holo kicked the water again and left the edge, meandering with something that looked like a doggy paddle. She seemed more carefree than she actually was with her hair and the fur on her tail spreading out in the water. Had she really not cared, she simply would not discuss it.
Holo worried about the bathhouse and the village in her own way. If not, she probably would not bother going out every night in the deep mountain snow or silently doing all the mending.
"Hmm."
As Lawrence mulled over the ideas in his head, Holo pulled herself up onto the center rock and wrung out her hair, tail wagging.
"Come in!"
She called out to him, showing a smile that was more innocent than Myuri's.
Lawrence still had work to do and waved his hand, but when Holo shot him a disappointed look, he gave in and stripped off his clothes.
"Once you know how enjoyable it is to just laze about, even if someone asked you to come up with some new fun in the spring, of course you wouldn't have any motivation for it."
| "I quite enjoyed lying in the grass when we were traveling merchants as well."
"Of course. The one snoring loudly in the back of the cart after lounging around and the one sitting in front holding the reins had it differently."
"I do not snore!"
Holo curled up, not denying that she would lie about in the back of the cart.
"Hmm...But this water is so good and peaceful. If this isn't paradise on earth, then what is? Everyone should come straight here."
"Well, 'twas busy for a few years, yes?"
Hundreds of years before Lawrence was even born, Holo had apparently soaked in these waters.
"Right...There actually may be a way to have the Church promote us as an earthly paradise."
"Hmm?"
Holo looked puzzled, as though this fool was saying crazy things again, but Lawrence thought it could actually work.
"Look, you know about pilgrimages to holy sites, right? If there's a location where a famous saint is enshrined—for example, a saint that can make the blind see again—those destinations that promise special effects are particularly sought after."
Next to Lawrence, who rambled his thoughts out loud, Holo continued to sit, seemingly uninterested as she poured herself more alcohol. It was likely because of her experience from ten years ago, when Lawrence would often start talking thoughtlessly about clever ways to make money, and the two of them would wind up getting involved in one uproar or another.
But now that he had thought of something, he could not stay silent.
"Everyone knows that the baths are good for your health, so we could possibly secure the help of the clergymen who frequent this place and have it designated as a holy site. Yes, that's right. It's even in their teachings. The opposite of earth is hell, and in between there's a midway point called purgatory, and if you can atone for your sins there, then those who were destined for hell can go to heaven instead. Like that, in the space between heaven and earth, there's a paradise that's neither heaven nor earth, and that is what Nyohhira can—"
Holo stuffed a piece of dried meat into Lawrence's mouth.
"Guh?"
"So, confess your sins in this purgatory to go to heaven? And what? If you drink and frolic in paradise or whatever, then you go to hell?"
Taking in Holo's face, flushed from the hot water and the alcohol, along with her reddish-amber eyes, Lawrence thought she looked like a demon.
"Mm..."
"We already get complaints that there are too many people here, do we not? Should the number of guests increase even more, 'tis unimaginable those churchmen would feel obligated to go out of their way and help us."
"...Mm."
That was definitely true.
"And it sounds like you forgot, you fool, but you want more guests to come during the season when you have nothing better to do, aye?"
"Yes...you're right. Yeah."
Drinking and soaking in the baths was making him drunk faster. Lawrence reached out of the water and grabbed a fistful of snow, putting a bit on his forehead.
"Hmm...I thought that the place between earth and heaven was a good idea..."
"Because there are angels like me here?"
Holo drew close, her laugh sounding like a purr. Her pearl-like skin and supple body certainly gave the impression of an angel.
But as she consumed more jerky, he could see her fangs showing, and anyone could tell she was not someone to become entangled with carelessly. As the one that reached out to her myself, there is no doubt about that, Lawrence thought in self-derision.
"Between heaven and earth...a festival...hmm..."
Next to the grumbling Lawrence, Holo bit into the snow on Lawrence's forehead, as though she, too, was beginning to boil. But suddenly, when he raised his head, she hurriedly got out of the bath.
"What's wrong?"
Holo hastened to pull her robe over her head and motioned to the main house with her chin in response.
"Sir, a visitor."
Hanna had come to call on him with someone in tow. Of course, the villagers could not know that Holo was half-wolf, so she was quite careful.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I quite enjoyed lying in the grass when we were traveling merchants as well."
"Of course. The one snoring loudly in the back of the cart after lounging around and the one sitting in front holding the reins had it differently."
"I do not snore!"
Holo curled up, not denying that she would lie about in the back of the cart.
"Hmm...But this water is so good and peaceful. If this isn't paradise on earth, then what is? Everyone should come straight here."
"Well, 'twas busy for a few years, yes?"
Hundreds of years before Lawrence was even born, Holo had apparently soaked in these waters.
"Right...There actually may be a way to have the Church promote us as an earthly paradise."
"Hmm?"
Holo looked puzzled, as though this fool was saying crazy things again, but Lawrence thought it could actually work.
"Look, you know about pilgrimages to holy sites, right? If there's a location where a famous saint is enshrined—for example, a saint that can make the blind see again—those destinations that promise special effects are particularly sought after."
Next to Lawrence, who rambled his thoughts out loud, Holo continued to sit, seemingly uninterested as she poured herself more alcohol. It was likely because of her experience from ten years ago, when Lawrence would often start talking thoughtlessly about clever ways to make money, and the two of them would wind up getting involved in one uproar or another.
But now that he had thought of something, he could not stay silent.
"Everyone knows that the baths are good for your health, so we could possibly secure the help of the clergymen who frequent this place and have it designated as a holy site. Yes, that's right. It's even in their teachings. The opposite of earth is hell, and in between there's a midway point called purgatory, and if you can atone for your sins there, then those who were destined for hell can go to heaven instead. Like that, in the space between heaven and earth, there's a paradise that's neither heaven nor earth, and that is what Nyohhira can—"
Holo stuffed a piece of dried meat into Lawrence's mouth.
"Guh?"
"So, confess your sins in this purgatory to go to heaven? And what? If you drink and frolic in paradise or whatever, then you go to hell?"
Taking in Holo's face, flushed from the hot water and the alcohol, along with her reddish-amber eyes, Lawrence thought she looked like a demon.
"Mm..."
"We already get complaints that there are too many people here, do we not? Should the number of guests increase even more, 'tis unimaginable those churchmen would feel obligated to go out of their way and help us."
"...Mm."
That was definitely true.
"And it sounds like you forgot, you fool, but you want more guests to come during the season when you have nothing better to do, aye?"
"Yes...you're right. Yeah."
Drinking and soaking in the baths was making him drunk faster. Lawrence reached out of the water and grabbed a fistful of snow, putting a bit on his forehead.
"Hmm...I thought that the place between earth and heaven was a good idea..."
"Because there are angels like me here?"
Holo drew close, her laugh sounding like a purr. Her pearl-like skin and supple body certainly gave the impression of an angel.
But as she consumed more jerky, he could see her fangs showing, and anyone could tell she was not someone to become entangled with carelessly. As the one that reached out to her myself, there is no doubt about that, Lawrence thought in self-derision.
"Between heaven and earth...a festival...hmm..."
Next to the grumbling Lawrence, Holo bit into the snow on Lawrence's forehead, as though she, too, was beginning to boil. But suddenly, when he raised his head, she hurriedly got out of the bath.
"What's wrong?"
Holo hastened to pull her robe over her head and motioned to the main house with her chin in response.
"Sir, a visitor."
Hanna had come to call on him with someone in tow. Of course, the villagers could not know that Holo was half-wolf, so she was quite careful.
| Lawrence rose from the bath and was surprised when he saw who stood at the head of the path leading to the main building.
He could not offer mulled wine, so he had Hanna boil goat milk and drizzle honey in it. But the visitor sat in the chair with a brooding look and stared at his hands, unmoving.
Holo, shuffling her fireplace-dried tail under her robe, came over and poked Lawrence in the back. What is this about? her face asked, but Lawrence did not know, either. At the moment, there were no guests in the quiet dining hall, and the only sound was Hanna preparing dinner. Holo stared with great interest at their guest and sat slightly farther away to work on mending.
Nothing would come of staying like this, so Lawrence opened his mouth first.
"What has your father asked you to do here today?"
The visitor looked like a child, but he was already a hardworking participant in the workforce around these parts, so Lawrence spoke with the respectful tone he deserved. But the boy slowly dropped his shoulders and solemnly shook his head. The sudden visitor was the second son of a nearby bathhouse owner and was around Myuri's age.
They knew this boy very well, since there were few people the same age Myuri, and he often played together with her. His name was Kalm. Lawrence could not count the number of times he had yelled at him when he and Myuri misbehaved.
As they grew of age, though they had to help with things around the house and could not play together much anymore, they would still throw snowballs or frogs at each other if they crossed paths in town.
"Have some before it gets cold."
Again, he offered the drink to Kalm, and the boy took it in his hands.
Then, as though the cup was his cue, he suddenly raised his head.
"M-Mr. Lawrence, I've come to ask you something!"
Lawrence was more surprised at how serious he seemed, rather than the sound of his voice.
When he and Myuri had done something bad together and Lawrence scolded them, he was the kind to turn away in a huff and pout. But now, the face of a fine young man was meeting his gaze without hesitation.
"If it's something I can answer myself, then gladly."
Lawrence also straightened his back in response, not looking down on the child.
"That's! Well..."
It was as if Kalm's energy brought him that far and then petered out. When he opened his mouth, no words came out. His face was bright red, and he seemed as though he had suddenly lost all his breath.
Kalm closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in pain, and Lawrence unconsciously began reaching out to put his hand on the boy's shoulder. But at that moment, Kalm suddenly blurted out, "P-please let me marry Myuri!"
The words, seeming to come straight from his body and soul, became a fierce wind that gusted through the dining hall.
Lawrence, dumbfounded, did not comprehend immediately.
Myuri? Marry?
"Erm, well, even if you say that, uhh..."
Lawrence could not form a thought in his head and was thrown into confusion.
As he did so, Kalm stared straight at Lawrence.
It was a look that said he was absolutely serious.
"...So you're asking for Myuri's hand in marriage."
Lawrence finally met the boy's determination head-on.
"Y-yes."
Kalm did not appear to be joking, and immediately Lawrence changed gears and stepped into the role of bathhouse owner in his head.
"Have you consulted your father about this?"
Lawrence raised his question and Kalm made a troubled face before he shook his head.
It was important in this small village to know which houses were related to whom. For example, if a popular bathhouse became connected to another by blood ties, then it would create a powerful clique. Though there was no rule forbidding marrying within the village, it was preferred by most to marry out, particularly choosing someone around Svernel.
Also, simply put, it was to avoid inbreeding in a place with so few households.
"Hmm."
For some reason, Lawrence sighed, and Kalm abruptly leaned forward.
"U-um, I—I have one question."
"Hmm?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence rose from the bath and was surprised when he saw who stood at the head of the path leading to the main building.
He could not offer mulled wine, so he had Hanna boil goat milk and drizzle honey in it. But the visitor sat in the chair with a brooding look and stared at his hands, unmoving.
Holo, shuffling her fireplace-dried tail under her robe, came over and poked Lawrence in the back. What is this about? her face asked, but Lawrence did not know, either. At the moment, there were no guests in the quiet dining hall, and the only sound was Hanna preparing dinner. Holo stared with great interest at their guest and sat slightly farther away to work on mending.
Nothing would come of staying like this, so Lawrence opened his mouth first.
"What has your father asked you to do here today?"
The visitor looked like a child, but he was already a hardworking participant in the workforce around these parts, so Lawrence spoke with the respectful tone he deserved. But the boy slowly dropped his shoulders and solemnly shook his head. The sudden visitor was the second son of a nearby bathhouse owner and was around Myuri's age.
They knew this boy very well, since there were few people the same age Myuri, and he often played together with her. His name was Kalm. Lawrence could not count the number of times he had yelled at him when he and Myuri misbehaved.
As they grew of age, though they had to help with things around the house and could not play together much anymore, they would still throw snowballs or frogs at each other if they crossed paths in town.
"Have some before it gets cold."
Again, he offered the drink to Kalm, and the boy took it in his hands.
Then, as though the cup was his cue, he suddenly raised his head.
"M-Mr. Lawrence, I've come to ask you something!"
Lawrence was more surprised at how serious he seemed, rather than the sound of his voice.
When he and Myuri had done something bad together and Lawrence scolded them, he was the kind to turn away in a huff and pout. But now, the face of a fine young man was meeting his gaze without hesitation.
"If it's something I can answer myself, then gladly."
Lawrence also straightened his back in response, not looking down on the child.
"That's! Well..."
It was as if Kalm's energy brought him that far and then petered out. When he opened his mouth, no words came out. His face was bright red, and he seemed as though he had suddenly lost all his breath.
Kalm closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in pain, and Lawrence unconsciously began reaching out to put his hand on the boy's shoulder. But at that moment, Kalm suddenly blurted out, "P-please let me marry Myuri!"
The words, seeming to come straight from his body and soul, became a fierce wind that gusted through the dining hall.
Lawrence, dumbfounded, did not comprehend immediately.
Myuri? Marry?
"Erm, well, even if you say that, uhh..."
Lawrence could not form a thought in his head and was thrown into confusion.
As he did so, Kalm stared straight at Lawrence.
It was a look that said he was absolutely serious.
"...So you're asking for Myuri's hand in marriage."
Lawrence finally met the boy's determination head-on.
"Y-yes."
Kalm did not appear to be joking, and immediately Lawrence changed gears and stepped into the role of bathhouse owner in his head.
"Have you consulted your father about this?"
Lawrence raised his question and Kalm made a troubled face before he shook his head.
It was important in this small village to know which houses were related to whom. For example, if a popular bathhouse became connected to another by blood ties, then it would create a powerful clique. Though there was no rule forbidding marrying within the village, it was preferred by most to marry out, particularly choosing someone around Svernel.
Also, simply put, it was to avoid inbreeding in a place with so few households.
"Hmm."
For some reason, Lawrence sighed, and Kalm abruptly leaned forward.
"U-um, I—I have one question."
"Hmm?"
| "Yes."
Lawrence muttered with a sigh, and he could feel Holo grinning at the edge of his vision.
Then, he finally understood why Kalm suddenly came over so determined, without talking to even his parents.
"Even I don't know, either...if she eloped...No, probably, a part of me felt that this would..."
Lawrence found himself suddenly muddling his words and could not apply his logic.
"But it hasn't been completely decided."
The reason Lawrence could say this so confidently was not just because of hopeful observation. It was partly born from his respect for Kalm, who had gathered all his courage to come here.
"You know, Myuri is the kind to do absolutely reckless things without a second thought. And she gets bored very easily."
Kalm, her childhood friend, seemed to be familiar with this and nodded vigorously.
"So that means there's a chance she'll come back if they have a big fight or something like that."
On top of that, Col was working toward becoming a clergyman and had taken vows of abstinence. When the beautiful dancers came to the village, no matter who tried to entice Col, he had not been swayed.
"If that happens, then you should come talk to her yourself. I have no intention of barring your way."
Kalm's face brightened, as though he had seen a ray of light beyond the dark clouds, but his expression soon lost energy again.
"But...she's with...Col, isn't she?"
Everyone knew one another in this small village.
Lawrence nodded, and dejection crept into the once-mischievous child's expression. If Col had been Lawrence's own rival in love when he was Kalm's age, he would have simply given up hope. Col had always been a good boy, but when he grew up, he became an even more wonderful man.
"Sigh..."
Though Kalm had come in high spirits, it seemed he had lost heart when confronted with the situation he faced. Lawrence remembered he had a similar experience when he was an apprentice merchant and could not help but smile a little.
And though the person sitting before him was an awful boy who was after his beloved daughter, he was still a brave man who had marched in here all by himself.
"But why this, all of a sudden?"
"Huh?"
Kalm responded with confusion, and Lawrence drew near his face, consciously paying attention to Holo.
"Aren't you the kind to prefer the dancing girls?"
He lowered his voice, as though it was a private conversation between men, and Kalm's cheeks turned red. Song and dance were essential to a place of healing like Nyohhira, and there were plenty of beautiful women. On top of that, these girls, who had the privilege to indulge in the arts, could get away with anything. Like the first dazzling shoots of summer greenery, they held a beauty that everyone adored.
"That's...well..." Kalm hesitated, but did not stay silent. "But I realized they're...different...from Myuri."
Lawrence recalled his daughter. Myuri looked just like Holo, but she was completely different on the inside. She was filled with endless energy, as though all the calm and cunning parts of Holo had been cut out, and all her pessimistic bits were replaced with radiant sunlight.
Once, when his daughter was little, she had blindly chased after a rabbit, trying to catch it, and fell backward in the mud, bleeding from her head. The very next day, she was playing in the woods, chasing deer.
From her very core, she was different from the confident and calmly smiling dancers, with their plaited hair and incensed clothes and carefully maintained waistlines. They were more like Holo, if anything.
"Well...They're as different as a cat in a noble's manor...and a wolf in the mountains..."
Though he thought his own daughter was the world's cutest, there were some things he could not ignore.
Lawrence spoke shamefully, but Kalm gave him a small smile and hurriedly shook his head.
"Well, um, that's not it..."
"Hmm?"
Kalm's gaze dropped to his fingers.
"I did like the dancers once, but...when they went down the mountain, I thought, Oh, I'll see them again."
"I see."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Yes."
Lawrence muttered with a sigh, and he could feel Holo grinning at the edge of his vision.
Then, he finally understood why Kalm suddenly came over so determined, without talking to even his parents.
"Even I don't know, either...if she eloped...No, probably, a part of me felt that this would..."
Lawrence found himself suddenly muddling his words and could not apply his logic.
"But it hasn't been completely decided."
The reason Lawrence could say this so confidently was not just because of hopeful observation. It was partly born from his respect for Kalm, who had gathered all his courage to come here.
"You know, Myuri is the kind to do absolutely reckless things without a second thought. And she gets bored very easily."
Kalm, her childhood friend, seemed to be familiar with this and nodded vigorously.
"So that means there's a chance she'll come back if they have a big fight or something like that."
On top of that, Col was working toward becoming a clergyman and had taken vows of abstinence. When the beautiful dancers came to the village, no matter who tried to entice Col, he had not been swayed.
"If that happens, then you should come talk to her yourself. I have no intention of barring your way."
Kalm's face brightened, as though he had seen a ray of light beyond the dark clouds, but his expression soon lost energy again.
"But...she's with...Col, isn't she?"
Everyone knew one another in this small village.
Lawrence nodded, and dejection crept into the once-mischievous child's expression. If Col had been Lawrence's own rival in love when he was Kalm's age, he would have simply given up hope. Col had always been a good boy, but when he grew up, he became an even more wonderful man.
"Sigh..."
Though Kalm had come in high spirits, it seemed he had lost heart when confronted with the situation he faced. Lawrence remembered he had a similar experience when he was an apprentice merchant and could not help but smile a little.
And though the person sitting before him was an awful boy who was after his beloved daughter, he was still a brave man who had marched in here all by himself.
"But why this, all of a sudden?"
"Huh?"
Kalm responded with confusion, and Lawrence drew near his face, consciously paying attention to Holo.
"Aren't you the kind to prefer the dancing girls?"
He lowered his voice, as though it was a private conversation between men, and Kalm's cheeks turned red. Song and dance were essential to a place of healing like Nyohhira, and there were plenty of beautiful women. On top of that, these girls, who had the privilege to indulge in the arts, could get away with anything. Like the first dazzling shoots of summer greenery, they held a beauty that everyone adored.
"That's...well..." Kalm hesitated, but did not stay silent. "But I realized they're...different...from Myuri."
Lawrence recalled his daughter. Myuri looked just like Holo, but she was completely different on the inside. She was filled with endless energy, as though all the calm and cunning parts of Holo had been cut out, and all her pessimistic bits were replaced with radiant sunlight.
Once, when his daughter was little, she had blindly chased after a rabbit, trying to catch it, and fell backward in the mud, bleeding from her head. The very next day, she was playing in the woods, chasing deer.
From her very core, she was different from the confident and calmly smiling dancers, with their plaited hair and incensed clothes and carefully maintained waistlines. They were more like Holo, if anything.
"Well...They're as different as a cat in a noble's manor...and a wolf in the mountains..."
Though he thought his own daughter was the world's cutest, there were some things he could not ignore.
Lawrence spoke shamefully, but Kalm gave him a small smile and hurriedly shook his head.
"Well, um, that's not it..."
"Hmm?"
Kalm's gaze dropped to his fingers.
"I did like the dancers once, but...when they went down the mountain, I thought, Oh, I'll see them again."
"I see."
| It was then his expression became filled with pain, and it seemed as though he would cry again.
"You just couldn't bear waiting, huh?"
***
Unable to speak, Kalm nodded, lips trembling.
He was the same age as Myuri, and they were always playing together. They were like family. It seemed that Myuri was too close to Kalm to notice. But Lawrence knew quite well. From his experience traveling as a merchant, when he never stayed in one place for more than a month, the emotions of townspeople and villagers always stood out starkly in his eyes.
It was not often that big changes occurred in these towns and villages. The things that would come tomorrow had already happened today, and no matter how boring or pedestrian, they would repeat year after year, and the year after that. That was why inseparable old childhood friends stopped calling out to each other as they grew up, though they may have been interested in each other. If that went over poorly and he lost his chance, then he would continue to regret it until he became an old man, and then it would follow him to his grave.
And that was why the boy deserved respect for his courageous effort, coming here on his own. Plus, it was likely that his rival in love would be Col.
Lawrence looked at Kalm as a man.
"And I should have known that..." Kalm's fists tightened on his knees, and tears fell from his eyes. "I should have known, when my brother got sick and died..."
Lawrence knew immediately it was about Kalm's older brother, who had passed on all too soon due to an infectious disease. He hesitated for a moment before slowly putting his hand on the youth's shoulder.
"I knew...I have to say...sniff...what I want to say, because otherwise...there might not be a next time..."
Lawrence patted Kalm's shoulder, then his back, and pulled him into a hug. Then, he noticed how unlike Myuri the boyish hardness of his bones were, and the faint smell of sweat, and Lawrence felt deeply moved by the thought that if he had a son, it would be like this.
He took the handkerchief that Holo so thoughtfully brought over and, again, patted the boy's back.
"But Myuri is still here."
"...Sniff..."
"If it were up to me, I'd punch every single guy that came after my daughter into next week."
He spoke purposefully, but Kalm looked up at Lawrence and flinched a bit. No matter how cute Holo thought this boy to be, Lawrence was still the upstanding owner of this bathhouse.
"But it would be irresponsible of me to tell you to go after her right now, even if you wanted to."
Kalm tried to stand up suddenly, but Lawrence kept him seated and handed him the handkerchief.
"She can be pretty indecisive about things like that, so I think there's a good chance she suddenly comes back like nothing happened after traveling around a bit with Col."
Knowing that Holo was in all likelihood listening very closely, he smiled dryly after picturing her reaction, but Lawrence really did think that this scenario was more than likely. He could not imagine Col putting his hands on Myuri without saying anything to her father first.
"When that happens, I want you to show me what a fine young man you are. And once more...once more..."
You can come get her, were the words he just could not spit out. But Kalm spoke up, gripping the handkerchief.
"I'll come get her!"
Lawrence saw a determination that would not waver from just one or two hits. Then he relaxed his shoulders and smiled, nodding.
"I'm waiting. And until then, I'll be sure to practice some punches."
He grinned, and Kalm just stared back, his face twitching.
"Well then, wipe your tears, and drink this."
"O-okay!"
Kalm did as he was told while Lawrence gazed at him, casually resting his chin in his hand.
He would not mind a good kid like this for a son.
"If you want to wash your face, you can use the baths. Your little brother's got sharp eyes, right?!"
"Ahh...Y-yes please."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | It was then his expression became filled with pain, and it seemed as though he would cry again.
"You just couldn't bear waiting, huh?"
***
Unable to speak, Kalm nodded, lips trembling.
He was the same age as Myuri, and they were always playing together. They were like family. It seemed that Myuri was too close to Kalm to notice. But Lawrence knew quite well. From his experience traveling as a merchant, when he never stayed in one place for more than a month, the emotions of townspeople and villagers always stood out starkly in his eyes.
It was not often that big changes occurred in these towns and villages. The things that would come tomorrow had already happened today, and no matter how boring or pedestrian, they would repeat year after year, and the year after that. That was why inseparable old childhood friends stopped calling out to each other as they grew up, though they may have been interested in each other. If that went over poorly and he lost his chance, then he would continue to regret it until he became an old man, and then it would follow him to his grave.
And that was why the boy deserved respect for his courageous effort, coming here on his own. Plus, it was likely that his rival in love would be Col.
Lawrence looked at Kalm as a man.
"And I should have known that..." Kalm's fists tightened on his knees, and tears fell from his eyes. "I should have known, when my brother got sick and died..."
Lawrence knew immediately it was about Kalm's older brother, who had passed on all too soon due to an infectious disease. He hesitated for a moment before slowly putting his hand on the youth's shoulder.
"I knew...I have to say...sniff...what I want to say, because otherwise...there might not be a next time..."
Lawrence patted Kalm's shoulder, then his back, and pulled him into a hug. Then, he noticed how unlike Myuri the boyish hardness of his bones were, and the faint smell of sweat, and Lawrence felt deeply moved by the thought that if he had a son, it would be like this.
He took the handkerchief that Holo so thoughtfully brought over and, again, patted the boy's back.
"But Myuri is still here."
"...Sniff..."
"If it were up to me, I'd punch every single guy that came after my daughter into next week."
He spoke purposefully, but Kalm looked up at Lawrence and flinched a bit. No matter how cute Holo thought this boy to be, Lawrence was still the upstanding owner of this bathhouse.
"But it would be irresponsible of me to tell you to go after her right now, even if you wanted to."
Kalm tried to stand up suddenly, but Lawrence kept him seated and handed him the handkerchief.
"She can be pretty indecisive about things like that, so I think there's a good chance she suddenly comes back like nothing happened after traveling around a bit with Col."
Knowing that Holo was in all likelihood listening very closely, he smiled dryly after picturing her reaction, but Lawrence really did think that this scenario was more than likely. He could not imagine Col putting his hands on Myuri without saying anything to her father first.
"When that happens, I want you to show me what a fine young man you are. And once more...once more..."
You can come get her, were the words he just could not spit out. But Kalm spoke up, gripping the handkerchief.
"I'll come get her!"
Lawrence saw a determination that would not waver from just one or two hits. Then he relaxed his shoulders and smiled, nodding.
"I'm waiting. And until then, I'll be sure to practice some punches."
He grinned, and Kalm just stared back, his face twitching.
"Well then, wipe your tears, and drink this."
"O-okay!"
Kalm did as he was told while Lawrence gazed at him, casually resting his chin in his hand.
He would not mind a good kid like this for a son.
"If you want to wash your face, you can use the baths. Your little brother's got sharp eyes, right?!"
"Ahh...Y-yes please."
| Lawrence sent him off with a smile, and Holo came in his place, sitting on Lawrence's lap without saying a word.
"Wh-what is it?"
"Mm? Heh-heh."
Holo laughed merrily, puffing up her tail in the robe that could not quite cover it completely.
"Is this foolish boy acting like a big man?" She made the first blow and grasped his hand. "You are quite stern sometimes, and that's why I cannot belittle you."
"I'll take that as a compliment for now."
"Fool."
Her response was short and fawning, almost like she was rubbing her ears against him through the robe. That exchange seemed to have really pulled on her heartstrings.
Lawrence pulled her into a tight hug and spoke absently.
"There might not be a next time, huh?"
How suddenly Kalm's older brother had died was fresh in his mind. On top of that, those words really resonated with Lawrence, who had led a life filled with fleeting meetings as a traveling merchant.
"If he understands that at his age, he will make a good male."
"I thought it was clear I knew that, too."
He was always reaching out to Holo, knowing that if they parted, there would not be a second meeting.
But Holo leaned back from him a bit, staring at Lawrence. He looked embarrassed under her accusing gaze.
"What, aren't I right?"
"What makes you a fool is how you rewrite things that happened in the past when it suits you."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Though you say you are so in love with me, do you know how long it took you? Hmm?"
***
Holo's play biting always hurt a bit. If he gave in to the pain and tried to say, I might be wrong but what about you, she would no doubt leave teeth marks in his hide. But her eyes had been on him the entire time, and her tail rustled like a dog that could not wait to play.
He had no choice but to accept that she desperately wanted him to say those embarrassing three words to her face, even now.
Being so loved is also pain, Lawrence, the poet, recited to himself, and just as he was going to say the words that Holo wanted to hear—
"Can't you say what you want to say?"
He murmured to himself absently.
"Um, what? Wh-what is it?" Holo's face looked as though she was expecting to be fed honey-dipped, sweet, dried grapes, but instead had pepper sprinkled in her mouth.
Lawrence was oblivious to this, though, as he desperately pulled on something to try to connect everything inside his head. He had a conversation similar to this recently.
A situation where he could not say what he wanted to say but would say it eventually.
Confessions at death's door!
That was the great release, divulging everything on the brink of dying, since there would be no more chances. But like with Holo in front of him, the things he wanted to say but could not bring himself to were not all bad.
So?
"So..."
"Hello? Heeeelloooooo?"
Holo was tapping Lawrence's cheek, but he grabbed her hand and stood up, carrying her bridal-style. Everything came together. An event that would bring more people in spring bloomed in his head.
"Yes! We should make a landing on the way to heaven!"
Lawrence yelled loudly, and in his arms, Holo stared at him blankly.
A funeral was a ceremony of parting.
Once the lid was closed, prayers were given, and the coffin buried in the ground, the living and the dead would never meet again.
When the coffin was being carried from his house, all who came out to greet Lawrence spoke their parting words. There was nothing to fake, nothing to hide, nothing to be embarrassed about anymore.
In parting, there was a certain strength that pushed out the things he could not easily express.
"Holo."
Lawrence called her name, but he could not help the wry smile that tugged on his lips.
He had prepared as much as he could, and though everyone had been courteous enough to leave the shed, it was still difficult.
"Ooh...the angels would become impatient right about now, too."
He could hear the groans of the dead coming from within the coffin.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence sent him off with a smile, and Holo came in his place, sitting on Lawrence's lap without saying a word.
"Wh-what is it?"
"Mm? Heh-heh."
Holo laughed merrily, puffing up her tail in the robe that could not quite cover it completely.
"Is this foolish boy acting like a big man?" She made the first blow and grasped his hand. "You are quite stern sometimes, and that's why I cannot belittle you."
"I'll take that as a compliment for now."
"Fool."
Her response was short and fawning, almost like she was rubbing her ears against him through the robe. That exchange seemed to have really pulled on her heartstrings.
Lawrence pulled her into a tight hug and spoke absently.
"There might not be a next time, huh?"
How suddenly Kalm's older brother had died was fresh in his mind. On top of that, those words really resonated with Lawrence, who had led a life filled with fleeting meetings as a traveling merchant.
"If he understands that at his age, he will make a good male."
"I thought it was clear I knew that, too."
He was always reaching out to Holo, knowing that if they parted, there would not be a second meeting.
But Holo leaned back from him a bit, staring at Lawrence. He looked embarrassed under her accusing gaze.
"What, aren't I right?"
"What makes you a fool is how you rewrite things that happened in the past when it suits you."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Though you say you are so in love with me, do you know how long it took you? Hmm?"
***
Holo's play biting always hurt a bit. If he gave in to the pain and tried to say, I might be wrong but what about you, she would no doubt leave teeth marks in his hide. But her eyes had been on him the entire time, and her tail rustled like a dog that could not wait to play.
He had no choice but to accept that she desperately wanted him to say those embarrassing three words to her face, even now.
Being so loved is also pain, Lawrence, the poet, recited to himself, and just as he was going to say the words that Holo wanted to hear—
"Can't you say what you want to say?"
He murmured to himself absently.
"Um, what? Wh-what is it?" Holo's face looked as though she was expecting to be fed honey-dipped, sweet, dried grapes, but instead had pepper sprinkled in her mouth.
Lawrence was oblivious to this, though, as he desperately pulled on something to try to connect everything inside his head. He had a conversation similar to this recently.
A situation where he could not say what he wanted to say but would say it eventually.
Confessions at death's door!
That was the great release, divulging everything on the brink of dying, since there would be no more chances. But like with Holo in front of him, the things he wanted to say but could not bring himself to were not all bad.
So?
"So..."
"Hello? Heeeelloooooo?"
Holo was tapping Lawrence's cheek, but he grabbed her hand and stood up, carrying her bridal-style. Everything came together. An event that would bring more people in spring bloomed in his head.
"Yes! We should make a landing on the way to heaven!"
Lawrence yelled loudly, and in his arms, Holo stared at him blankly.
A funeral was a ceremony of parting.
Once the lid was closed, prayers were given, and the coffin buried in the ground, the living and the dead would never meet again.
When the coffin was being carried from his house, all who came out to greet Lawrence spoke their parting words. There was nothing to fake, nothing to hide, nothing to be embarrassed about anymore.
In parting, there was a certain strength that pushed out the things he could not easily express.
"Holo."
Lawrence called her name, but he could not help the wry smile that tugged on his lips.
He had prepared as much as he could, and though everyone had been courteous enough to leave the shed, it was still difficult.
"Ooh...the angels would become impatient right about now, too."
He could hear the groans of the dead coming from within the coffin.
| "I was happy since the day I met you."
"...Was?"
She cracked one eye open and asked her question accusingly.
"This is a funeral, you know."
"Hmph."
"And in this funeral, the dead returns to life by the water of miracles."
He dipped his finger into a silver cup that had been prepared for them, wetting it with the hot spring water, and spread the liquid across Holo's forehead.
"How does it feel to rejoin the living?"
Holo opened both eyes, looking up at Lawrence, and broke out into a smile.
"How happy I am to still have time to spend with you."
"Ah..."
Lawrence was not expecting that answer and was at a loss for words. Holo showed her fangs in victory. He could never win against her and thought it was just like her.
"I am honored," Lawrence said and helped her sit up.
"So, what do you think of this as a festival?"
"Mm?"
"You won't know if someone said something good about you, nor can you speak any more after you die. So this is a ritual to get just one step closer to heaven, where you may as well spell out everything while you're still alive, just under the pretense that you're dead."
"Hmm, mm...Well, you know what?" Holo looked at Lawrence and spoke with an honest expression. "'Tis not bad."
"Ha-ha, I see. Well, it doesn't need too many preparations, and it doesn't get too out of hand, so I think it's worth trying out."
When Lawrence had told the other bathhouse owners what he thought up, they were startled at first. But when he told them the point of it, they immediately became excited. Everyone had one or two things that they wanted to say belatedly to someone important to them, and it would be better to do so quickly—the appeal was easy to understand. All that was needed was an excuse to say those words.
And all the stubborn men of the world were likely thinking the same thing.
That was why, in this secluded area, in the place closest to heaven on this earth, they would hold funerals for the living as their excuse. This was what Lawrence thought.
"Candles can get pretty expensive, so we have to be careful about that...And it really comes together when we all wear the same clothes, so that's also another expense...But yeah, this could work."
As he thought of all sorts of things, he suddenly realized that Holo was staring at him.
Oh no, I started thinking business and forgot about her. He tensed, but Holo showed him a small smile and, as though she had just woken up, softly gripped his sleeve.
"I am so..."
"Huh?"
"So happy I am still alive."
She kept smiling and tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.
Lawrence hurriedly wiped them away.
"Our travels will continue, yes?"
"Everything fades with time." From Holo's perspective, Lawrence, too, was nothing more than a leaf that would be blown away with passing years. One day, their parting would come, and this moment would forever remain in the past.
But that moment was still in the future.
Lawrence wrapped his arm around Holo's back and hugged her. They had to protect their "now" from the flow of time, as much as they could.
"Yes," he finally responded. "We will. Just a little longer."
Holo lifted her head and smiled. Then, they had a bit of a back-and-forth. While neither of them made an effort to resolve it, they ended up naturally settling back down. It was similar to the time they decided to start a business together.
They shared a kiss in front of the altar, where God watched over them.
Their eyes met, and even after all their time together, they still found themselves blushing.
There were still many things left for them to do in this world.
Spring was near, the season when the snow would finally melt.
***
Surrounded on all sides by mountains in the center of the world.
The long winter was finally coming to an end in the hot spring village of Nyohhira.
Curious gazes gathered on Lawrence.
"Oh my, my. Isn't that the owner of Spice and Wolf?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "I was happy since the day I met you."
"...Was?"
She cracked one eye open and asked her question accusingly.
"This is a funeral, you know."
"Hmph."
"And in this funeral, the dead returns to life by the water of miracles."
He dipped his finger into a silver cup that had been prepared for them, wetting it with the hot spring water, and spread the liquid across Holo's forehead.
"How does it feel to rejoin the living?"
Holo opened both eyes, looking up at Lawrence, and broke out into a smile.
"How happy I am to still have time to spend with you."
"Ah..."
Lawrence was not expecting that answer and was at a loss for words. Holo showed her fangs in victory. He could never win against her and thought it was just like her.
"I am honored," Lawrence said and helped her sit up.
"So, what do you think of this as a festival?"
"Mm?"
"You won't know if someone said something good about you, nor can you speak any more after you die. So this is a ritual to get just one step closer to heaven, where you may as well spell out everything while you're still alive, just under the pretense that you're dead."
"Hmm, mm...Well, you know what?" Holo looked at Lawrence and spoke with an honest expression. "'Tis not bad."
"Ha-ha, I see. Well, it doesn't need too many preparations, and it doesn't get too out of hand, so I think it's worth trying out."
When Lawrence had told the other bathhouse owners what he thought up, they were startled at first. But when he told them the point of it, they immediately became excited. Everyone had one or two things that they wanted to say belatedly to someone important to them, and it would be better to do so quickly—the appeal was easy to understand. All that was needed was an excuse to say those words.
And all the stubborn men of the world were likely thinking the same thing.
That was why, in this secluded area, in the place closest to heaven on this earth, they would hold funerals for the living as their excuse. This was what Lawrence thought.
"Candles can get pretty expensive, so we have to be careful about that...And it really comes together when we all wear the same clothes, so that's also another expense...But yeah, this could work."
As he thought of all sorts of things, he suddenly realized that Holo was staring at him.
Oh no, I started thinking business and forgot about her. He tensed, but Holo showed him a small smile and, as though she had just woken up, softly gripped his sleeve.
"I am so..."
"Huh?"
"So happy I am still alive."
She kept smiling and tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.
Lawrence hurriedly wiped them away.
"Our travels will continue, yes?"
"Everything fades with time." From Holo's perspective, Lawrence, too, was nothing more than a leaf that would be blown away with passing years. One day, their parting would come, and this moment would forever remain in the past.
But that moment was still in the future.
Lawrence wrapped his arm around Holo's back and hugged her. They had to protect their "now" from the flow of time, as much as they could.
"Yes," he finally responded. "We will. Just a little longer."
Holo lifted her head and smiled. Then, they had a bit of a back-and-forth. While neither of them made an effort to resolve it, they ended up naturally settling back down. It was similar to the time they decided to start a business together.
They shared a kiss in front of the altar, where God watched over them.
Their eyes met, and even after all their time together, they still found themselves blushing.
There were still many things left for them to do in this world.
Spring was near, the season when the snow would finally melt.
***
Surrounded on all sides by mountains in the center of the world.
The long winter was finally coming to an end in the hot spring village of Nyohhira.
Curious gazes gathered on Lawrence.
"Oh my, my. Isn't that the owner of Spice and Wolf?"
| Lawrence stepped into the snow and stood there, with a smile as vague as his white, wavering breath visible in the cold. He let down the firewood he was carrying.
There were several places that the maids and village women gathered in this predawn hour. There was the water mill and the well and so on, but the place that Lawrence had come to today was the communal bread oven.
"What's happened to Hanna? Is she ill?"
"I wonder if his daughter is sleeping in."
"Have you forgotten? His daughter has bravely gone off on an adventure. I wanted to do that a long time ago, too."
"Oh, is that so? This was the only place I knew outside of the town I was born in."
"But it's a surprise to see the master himself come here. Do you think Ms. Holo is ill, too?"
"Oh, that's terrible. We must go pay her a visit."
Once or twice a week, these women came here to bake all the bread that each household and bathhouse required. Life here was dull, so the only thing they could do for fun was gossip about the village.
Originally, this was work for the maids or, if they could not do it, the young wives or helper girls. So if a man came, that was enough to spark chatter. Even Lawrence thought he looked silly carrying firewood on his back and the kneaded dough, wrapped in a cloth, underneath his arm.
At this rate, it'll look as if my wife ran away from home, no?
But Lawrence's smile did not waver before this inconsiderate pigeon flock.
Their rumors spread rapidly throughout the village. Though he had spent over ten years running a bathhouse here, he was still treated like a newcomer, and he could not let his guard down.
Instead, he cursed how he had been forced into this job, as he imagined his wife Holo, who was likely still idling away at the bathhouse.
"No, we've received a sudden guest. The other two have other important business to attend to, so I came today."
When he spoke, the women's idle chatter suddenly stopped.
"Oh...Don't tell me that person is staying as a guest at Spice and Wolf?"
"How troublesome that must be."
She did not seem to be simply picking at crumbs of the conversation, and in fact her expression seemed sincere.
"Do you think they first stayed at Yoseph's?"
"Oh yes. It's the oldest bathhouse in the village, you know."
"Then Abel's?"
"And then Ramaninov's after that."
They listed off the names of bathhouse masters one after the other. They were the children and grandchildren of various people who came to this village from all over to start bathhouses, so they all sounded unique.
"Do you think this means he'll be staying at different places until spring?"
"He's always making such an unhappy face, like something isn't right."
"Oh, I know. He has so many demands, like having his lunch made so early in the morning. It was such a fuss! But he paid so well..."
"Hey, don't be distracted by tips. My husband thinks he's most likely investigating the village."
"My! Do you think our guest is from that other hot spring village they might build on the far side of the mountain?"
"But he really doesn't use the baths very much for that."
"True. If he were planning on building a new bathhouse, you think he'd be looking all over the village."
Their conversation flowed as though their lines had been written beforehand, and their speaking habits were so similar it was difficult to tell who was who in the faint darkness. As they came together every week to bake their bread, their ways of thinking also began to resemble one another.
As Lawrence watched them, he finally understood why Holo had made it seem like it was so childishly difficult for her to get out of bed.
They treated her differently, especially since she was a newlywed, but more importantly, she was the young mistress of a bathhouse where none of them worked. They kept to themselves for the most part. Though this was their own way of being considerate and knowing their place as hired helpers, this treatment was the most difficult for Holo to bear.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence stepped into the snow and stood there, with a smile as vague as his white, wavering breath visible in the cold. He let down the firewood he was carrying.
There were several places that the maids and village women gathered in this predawn hour. There was the water mill and the well and so on, but the place that Lawrence had come to today was the communal bread oven.
"What's happened to Hanna? Is she ill?"
"I wonder if his daughter is sleeping in."
"Have you forgotten? His daughter has bravely gone off on an adventure. I wanted to do that a long time ago, too."
"Oh, is that so? This was the only place I knew outside of the town I was born in."
"But it's a surprise to see the master himself come here. Do you think Ms. Holo is ill, too?"
"Oh, that's terrible. We must go pay her a visit."
Once or twice a week, these women came here to bake all the bread that each household and bathhouse required. Life here was dull, so the only thing they could do for fun was gossip about the village.
Originally, this was work for the maids or, if they could not do it, the young wives or helper girls. So if a man came, that was enough to spark chatter. Even Lawrence thought he looked silly carrying firewood on his back and the kneaded dough, wrapped in a cloth, underneath his arm.
At this rate, it'll look as if my wife ran away from home, no?
But Lawrence's smile did not waver before this inconsiderate pigeon flock.
Their rumors spread rapidly throughout the village. Though he had spent over ten years running a bathhouse here, he was still treated like a newcomer, and he could not let his guard down.
Instead, he cursed how he had been forced into this job, as he imagined his wife Holo, who was likely still idling away at the bathhouse.
"No, we've received a sudden guest. The other two have other important business to attend to, so I came today."
When he spoke, the women's idle chatter suddenly stopped.
"Oh...Don't tell me that person is staying as a guest at Spice and Wolf?"
"How troublesome that must be."
She did not seem to be simply picking at crumbs of the conversation, and in fact her expression seemed sincere.
"Do you think they first stayed at Yoseph's?"
"Oh yes. It's the oldest bathhouse in the village, you know."
"Then Abel's?"
"And then Ramaninov's after that."
They listed off the names of bathhouse masters one after the other. They were the children and grandchildren of various people who came to this village from all over to start bathhouses, so they all sounded unique.
"Do you think this means he'll be staying at different places until spring?"
"He's always making such an unhappy face, like something isn't right."
"Oh, I know. He has so many demands, like having his lunch made so early in the morning. It was such a fuss! But he paid so well..."
"Hey, don't be distracted by tips. My husband thinks he's most likely investigating the village."
"My! Do you think our guest is from that other hot spring village they might build on the far side of the mountain?"
"But he really doesn't use the baths very much for that."
"True. If he were planning on building a new bathhouse, you think he'd be looking all over the village."
Their conversation flowed as though their lines had been written beforehand, and their speaking habits were so similar it was difficult to tell who was who in the faint darkness. As they came together every week to bake their bread, their ways of thinking also began to resemble one another.
As Lawrence watched them, he finally understood why Holo had made it seem like it was so childishly difficult for her to get out of bed.
They treated her differently, especially since she was a newlywed, but more importantly, she was the young mistress of a bathhouse where none of them worked. They kept to themselves for the most part. Though this was their own way of being considerate and knowing their place as hired helpers, this treatment was the most difficult for Holo to bear.
| He heard his name being spoken and snapped back to the present. At the same time, even before he caught up with the conversation's context, he automatically smiled. He had learned through experience that if he maintained a pleasant expression, any situation would turn out better.
"I'm sure he has been frowning since his arrival, but it's best to pay it no mind. He's been like that at every house. It hasn't been long since you've started your business, so I can imagine he's been nothing but trouble..."
"There were people like that long ago, too. Such unreasonable customers!"
"That was back when you were still young...Over twenty years ago, I think?"
"Excuse you! I'm still young!"
It made Lawrence smile to watch the two bicker like close sisters, their true thoughts and emotions plain in everything they said. His bathhouse had been around for a little over ten years so it "wasn't that old yet."
The first place this guest stayed at was Yoseph's bathhouse, the oldest in the village. It then naturally followed that he chose to stay at Spice and Wolf right before leaving the village because it was the newest.
It seemed it would take even more time to fit into the village.
"Well, anyway, I think it's about time that everyone's gathered."
While they chatted like lively children, one spoke up, bringing them back to reality. Since the communal oven was not in the center of town, where the church bell could be relied on, time was nothing but an estimate. And since how much bread each person needed depended on the household, there was never a reason for every villager to gather and bake bread at the same time.
"All right, then, let's draw straws."
One woman took a bundle of twigs that lay next to the oven and wrapped it in some cloth hanging from her waist.
But the ends of all the twigs were the same length and poked out a bit from the impromptu bundle.
"Are these new? No cheating!"
"I'm getting old, so even if I did cheat, I wouldn't be able to see which is the short stick in this darkness!"
They all laughed together, and one by one drew a limb from the bundle. Each twig was of a different length, and the longer the twig, the happier the person. Lawrence was the last to draw, and as if planned, his was short.
"O-oh, my..."
"Hey, are you sure none of you cheated?!"
There was an awkward atmosphere among the women. This draw was to decide who used the oven first.
No one wanted to be first when using the public oven. Though each person had to prepare their own fuel and materials to use the oven, it took quite a while for it to heat up. The first person to use it had to prepare extra fuel to get the oven going since it would have gone cold overnight.
"Oh no, actually, this helps." Flustered, Lawrence cut in. "I don't know what complaints we would get if we made that crabby guest wait. If I were last, I would probably ask to be first."
The women were surprised, knowing that should their process's fairness be doubted, they would lose face, so they all smiled at once, relieved.
"Well, if you say so..."
"It's a good thing, definitely, if you think about time. Here we have some people who use too much firewood and bake their bread into ash!"
"Hey! That's because I was so busy talking! And that was a long time ago!"
Their brightness had returned.
Lawrence smiled, relieved. He opened the oven lid, lining the insides with his firewood and lighting it.
It seemed there was still some time before they could see the sun over the mountains.
Though the freshly baked bread was wrapped in cloth, it still gave off warm steam. On the way, he stuffed his mouth with a piece of the soft bread, and by the time he reached home, the sun had risen high in the sky.
It was quite the challenge, baking bread with women whose hands and mouths worked equally hard, but between the clear sky and the smell of freshly baked bread, it also accorded him a wisp of energy.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | He heard his name being spoken and snapped back to the present. At the same time, even before he caught up with the conversation's context, he automatically smiled. He had learned through experience that if he maintained a pleasant expression, any situation would turn out better.
"I'm sure he has been frowning since his arrival, but it's best to pay it no mind. He's been like that at every house. It hasn't been long since you've started your business, so I can imagine he's been nothing but trouble..."
"There were people like that long ago, too. Such unreasonable customers!"
"That was back when you were still young...Over twenty years ago, I think?"
"Excuse you! I'm still young!"
It made Lawrence smile to watch the two bicker like close sisters, their true thoughts and emotions plain in everything they said. His bathhouse had been around for a little over ten years so it "wasn't that old yet."
The first place this guest stayed at was Yoseph's bathhouse, the oldest in the village. It then naturally followed that he chose to stay at Spice and Wolf right before leaving the village because it was the newest.
It seemed it would take even more time to fit into the village.
"Well, anyway, I think it's about time that everyone's gathered."
While they chatted like lively children, one spoke up, bringing them back to reality. Since the communal oven was not in the center of town, where the church bell could be relied on, time was nothing but an estimate. And since how much bread each person needed depended on the household, there was never a reason for every villager to gather and bake bread at the same time.
"All right, then, let's draw straws."
One woman took a bundle of twigs that lay next to the oven and wrapped it in some cloth hanging from her waist.
But the ends of all the twigs were the same length and poked out a bit from the impromptu bundle.
"Are these new? No cheating!"
"I'm getting old, so even if I did cheat, I wouldn't be able to see which is the short stick in this darkness!"
They all laughed together, and one by one drew a limb from the bundle. Each twig was of a different length, and the longer the twig, the happier the person. Lawrence was the last to draw, and as if planned, his was short.
"O-oh, my..."
"Hey, are you sure none of you cheated?!"
There was an awkward atmosphere among the women. This draw was to decide who used the oven first.
No one wanted to be first when using the public oven. Though each person had to prepare their own fuel and materials to use the oven, it took quite a while for it to heat up. The first person to use it had to prepare extra fuel to get the oven going since it would have gone cold overnight.
"Oh no, actually, this helps." Flustered, Lawrence cut in. "I don't know what complaints we would get if we made that crabby guest wait. If I were last, I would probably ask to be first."
The women were surprised, knowing that should their process's fairness be doubted, they would lose face, so they all smiled at once, relieved.
"Well, if you say so..."
"It's a good thing, definitely, if you think about time. Here we have some people who use too much firewood and bake their bread into ash!"
"Hey! That's because I was so busy talking! And that was a long time ago!"
Their brightness had returned.
Lawrence smiled, relieved. He opened the oven lid, lining the insides with his firewood and lighting it.
It seemed there was still some time before they could see the sun over the mountains.
Though the freshly baked bread was wrapped in cloth, it still gave off warm steam. On the way, he stuffed his mouth with a piece of the soft bread, and by the time he reached home, the sun had risen high in the sky.
It was quite the challenge, baking bread with women whose hands and mouths worked equally hard, but between the clear sky and the smell of freshly baked bread, it also accorded him a wisp of energy.
| "Sorry to have kept you waiting."
"Hmph."
The small old man grunted discontentedly. He held the lunch that Hanna had made for him, and he stood under the eaves as though waiting for the bread. In addition to the guests who stayed for the baths, there were also those who stayed for the mountains, such as hunters and woodcutters, so it was not unusual to see patrons go out in the morning.
However, the way this old man was dressed, it did not look like he was prepared for any trade Lawrence knew.
He wore a fur-covered conical hat that was shaped like a bowl on his head, bear fur on his feet, fox fur on his shoulders, deer leather gloves on his hand, and a rather rough-looking hatchet slung behind his back. His rucksack seemed to be filled with all sorts of things, but Lawrence could not tell what was inside. The guest's purpose was a mystery, and he almost never used the baths.
The old man tried to grab the entire package of bread as Lawrence approached him.
He seemed confused—it was far too much bread for lunch, and as though the old man realized something, he conceded and withdrew his hand. Lawrence watched and felt a strange feeling pass through him, so he took three pieces of the fresh wheat bread and wrapped them in a separate cloth. As though carefully appraising him, Lawrence passed the bread to the old man. The elderly guest remained silent, but he nodded his head slightly and walked off without a word.
He was gruff, but it was not as though he had no manners.
Lawrence watched him leave and tilted his head. He was most likely not a bad person, but there was a brooding manner about him. The old man went off down the hill in front of the bathhouse. When Lawrence could no longer see his receding figure beyond the trees, he went inside and could smell something good coming from the dining hall.
On the long table was his breakfast, which seemed to have been served quite a while ago. Baked beans, thick-cut bacon, slices of cheese, and the last of the cured herring they had ordered last fall. It seemed to be the same as what Hanna had given that odd guest for his takeaway lunch. There was no mistaking that she had saved herself some trouble and decided to make Lawrence's portion, as well.
And there at the table, always present wherever it smelled good, sat Holo.
"You're late. Your poor breakfast has gone cold."
She glared at her husband, who had just come back from baking bread in the cold outside.
"I told you, they pull straws to see who bakes when. This is what it's like when I'm first."
On top of that, this was a job that Holo was supposed to do as the innkeeper's wife. As he argued against her unreasonable complaints, he gave the rest of the fresh bread to Hannah, who had just emerged from the kitchen. She took out three pieces from the cloth for Lawrence.
Not two, not four, but three? Lawrence looked at her quizzically, and she just smiled mischievously. Confused, he took the bread and sat down, and then he finally understood.
They ate breakfast not facing each other across the table, but side by side. In the middle of the two chairs sat a ceramic jug, filled with wine.
Before he could argue that it was too much for the morning, his eyes stopped at Holo's empty cup. Finally, he realized what Hanna was planning and noticed Holo.
"If you're going to blame me for doing poorly on a job you don't want to do..." He pulled out a chair and sat next to her. "...Then you should have done it yourself, no?"
He set two pieces of bread down on his plate and one on Holo's.
"They might compliment you out of jealousy since you always look so young."
Holo had the appearance of a teenage girl, and she stared at her husband, having taken offense. But Holo was not a girl, nor was she human. Since no one else was in the bathhouse, she was not hiding the ears on her head or the tail on her behind. They were a reminder that her true form was a giant wolf that could easily swallow a person whole, a spirit who resided in wheat.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Sorry to have kept you waiting."
"Hmph."
The small old man grunted discontentedly. He held the lunch that Hanna had made for him, and he stood under the eaves as though waiting for the bread. In addition to the guests who stayed for the baths, there were also those who stayed for the mountains, such as hunters and woodcutters, so it was not unusual to see patrons go out in the morning.
However, the way this old man was dressed, it did not look like he was prepared for any trade Lawrence knew.
He wore a fur-covered conical hat that was shaped like a bowl on his head, bear fur on his feet, fox fur on his shoulders, deer leather gloves on his hand, and a rather rough-looking hatchet slung behind his back. His rucksack seemed to be filled with all sorts of things, but Lawrence could not tell what was inside. The guest's purpose was a mystery, and he almost never used the baths.
The old man tried to grab the entire package of bread as Lawrence approached him.
He seemed confused—it was far too much bread for lunch, and as though the old man realized something, he conceded and withdrew his hand. Lawrence watched and felt a strange feeling pass through him, so he took three pieces of the fresh wheat bread and wrapped them in a separate cloth. As though carefully appraising him, Lawrence passed the bread to the old man. The elderly guest remained silent, but he nodded his head slightly and walked off without a word.
He was gruff, but it was not as though he had no manners.
Lawrence watched him leave and tilted his head. He was most likely not a bad person, but there was a brooding manner about him. The old man went off down the hill in front of the bathhouse. When Lawrence could no longer see his receding figure beyond the trees, he went inside and could smell something good coming from the dining hall.
On the long table was his breakfast, which seemed to have been served quite a while ago. Baked beans, thick-cut bacon, slices of cheese, and the last of the cured herring they had ordered last fall. It seemed to be the same as what Hanna had given that odd guest for his takeaway lunch. There was no mistaking that she had saved herself some trouble and decided to make Lawrence's portion, as well.
And there at the table, always present wherever it smelled good, sat Holo.
"You're late. Your poor breakfast has gone cold."
She glared at her husband, who had just come back from baking bread in the cold outside.
"I told you, they pull straws to see who bakes when. This is what it's like when I'm first."
On top of that, this was a job that Holo was supposed to do as the innkeeper's wife. As he argued against her unreasonable complaints, he gave the rest of the fresh bread to Hannah, who had just emerged from the kitchen. She took out three pieces from the cloth for Lawrence.
Not two, not four, but three? Lawrence looked at her quizzically, and she just smiled mischievously. Confused, he took the bread and sat down, and then he finally understood.
They ate breakfast not facing each other across the table, but side by side. In the middle of the two chairs sat a ceramic jug, filled with wine.
Before he could argue that it was too much for the morning, his eyes stopped at Holo's empty cup. Finally, he realized what Hanna was planning and noticed Holo.
"If you're going to blame me for doing poorly on a job you don't want to do..." He pulled out a chair and sat next to her. "...Then you should have done it yourself, no?"
He set two pieces of bread down on his plate and one on Holo's.
"They might compliment you out of jealousy since you always look so young."
Holo had the appearance of a teenage girl, and she stared at her husband, having taken offense. But Holo was not a girl, nor was she human. Since no one else was in the bathhouse, she was not hiding the ears on her head or the tail on her behind. They were a reminder that her true form was a giant wolf that could easily swallow a person whole, a spirit who resided in wheat.
| After Lawrence spoke, Holo reached out for the ceramic jug. Her small hands gripped the handle of the jug, which was much too big for her, and sloppily poured wine into Lawrence's cup. She always only poured for herself, so Lawrence could not help but laugh at her obvious behavior.
"If you'd gone, you definitely would have been hurt."
Holo once lived in an area called Yoitsu, but on a whim, she traveled south and stayed at a village there for hundreds of years, watching over the growing wheat. Why she did so in the first place had been lost in the flow of time, and she had even forgotten the road home. In her solitude, she had become like a stone.
That was when Lawrence met her, and this was where they ended up.
She called herself the wisewolf, cunning and sage, but she was also vain and easily became lonely.
Had she been the one at the bread oven, while she would have managed to smile at the maids' insensitivities, he could easily imagine her becoming quickly exhausted.
"Well, I used to be a merchant. I chatted a lot with them and gave a good account of myself."
Lawrence spoke pointedly, but Holo said nothing. She split the bacon and placed a piece in front of him.
When she usually split it, no matter how he looked at it, her own portions were always bigger. But this time, the sizes were the same.
"So I'm not mad. It's simply how we divide the labor."
He took the second piece of bread on his plate and split it in two, placing the larger piece on Holo's plate.
"And so you've watched our odd guest for me while I was out, haven't you?"
Holo finally looked up at Lawrence, her lips scrunching up in a sour expression, as though she were gnashing her teeth.
Lawrence softly kissed her cheek and turned to face his food.
"But for now, breakfast."
Holo carefully watched Lawrence for a while but finally began to eat.
Her big pointed ears and tail were flicking happily.
"I do not believe he is wicked. I can sense something like his core."
This was new for Holo, who usually had a rough time evaluating normal people.
The guest in question had arrived suddenly a little after noon the day before. "Do you have a room?" he had asked quietly, in a way that was difficult to hear. Lawrence had heard that there were those who would spend an entire winter moving from bathhouse to bathhouse.
But when Lawrence, overpowered by his presence, nodded, the guest had silently placed a gold lumione coin on the register book. This was enough for a family of four to live modestly for a month. It was far more than enough to stay for the two weeks he had requested.
However, to make a two week's stay worth a gold lumione required effort. Lawrence offered musicians and dancers, but the old guest shook his head and refused it all. He only asked for one thing—a packed lunch, early.
He was definitely odd, but he was too unhurried for someone who might be on the run after committing a crime in another town, and it did not feel as though he was sensitive enough to be discontent with every bathhouse he had stayed in so far. Really, he did not seem to have any interest in the baths or rooms at all.
The place this peculiar guest had stayed at before coming here was the most reliable bathhouse in the village.
There lived a boy who was the same age as his daughter, Myuri, and they had often played together as children. His name was Kalm, and just the other day he had come to Lawrence asking permission to marry Myuri. He was a good young man, and Lawrence did not mind having him as a son. His father, Cyrus, seemed grumpy, but he was not so bad once one got to know him. After that odd lodger showed up, Cyrus stopped by Lawrence's bathhouse and told him everything he knew about the man.
Whenever that old man changed houses, the previous host would relay information to the next, and this meant that all the accumulated intelligence had safely reached Lawrence in the end. Of course, he told Holo the Wisewolf this information.
"I suspect he may be a medicine man."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | After Lawrence spoke, Holo reached out for the ceramic jug. Her small hands gripped the handle of the jug, which was much too big for her, and sloppily poured wine into Lawrence's cup. She always only poured for herself, so Lawrence could not help but laugh at her obvious behavior.
"If you'd gone, you definitely would have been hurt."
Holo once lived in an area called Yoitsu, but on a whim, she traveled south and stayed at a village there for hundreds of years, watching over the growing wheat. Why she did so in the first place had been lost in the flow of time, and she had even forgotten the road home. In her solitude, she had become like a stone.
That was when Lawrence met her, and this was where they ended up.
She called herself the wisewolf, cunning and sage, but she was also vain and easily became lonely.
Had she been the one at the bread oven, while she would have managed to smile at the maids' insensitivities, he could easily imagine her becoming quickly exhausted.
"Well, I used to be a merchant. I chatted a lot with them and gave a good account of myself."
Lawrence spoke pointedly, but Holo said nothing. She split the bacon and placed a piece in front of him.
When she usually split it, no matter how he looked at it, her own portions were always bigger. But this time, the sizes were the same.
"So I'm not mad. It's simply how we divide the labor."
He took the second piece of bread on his plate and split it in two, placing the larger piece on Holo's plate.
"And so you've watched our odd guest for me while I was out, haven't you?"
Holo finally looked up at Lawrence, her lips scrunching up in a sour expression, as though she were gnashing her teeth.
Lawrence softly kissed her cheek and turned to face his food.
"But for now, breakfast."
Holo carefully watched Lawrence for a while but finally began to eat.
Her big pointed ears and tail were flicking happily.
"I do not believe he is wicked. I can sense something like his core."
This was new for Holo, who usually had a rough time evaluating normal people.
The guest in question had arrived suddenly a little after noon the day before. "Do you have a room?" he had asked quietly, in a way that was difficult to hear. Lawrence had heard that there were those who would spend an entire winter moving from bathhouse to bathhouse.
But when Lawrence, overpowered by his presence, nodded, the guest had silently placed a gold lumione coin on the register book. This was enough for a family of four to live modestly for a month. It was far more than enough to stay for the two weeks he had requested.
However, to make a two week's stay worth a gold lumione required effort. Lawrence offered musicians and dancers, but the old guest shook his head and refused it all. He only asked for one thing—a packed lunch, early.
He was definitely odd, but he was too unhurried for someone who might be on the run after committing a crime in another town, and it did not feel as though he was sensitive enough to be discontent with every bathhouse he had stayed in so far. Really, he did not seem to have any interest in the baths or rooms at all.
The place this peculiar guest had stayed at before coming here was the most reliable bathhouse in the village.
There lived a boy who was the same age as his daughter, Myuri, and they had often played together as children. His name was Kalm, and just the other day he had come to Lawrence asking permission to marry Myuri. He was a good young man, and Lawrence did not mind having him as a son. His father, Cyrus, seemed grumpy, but he was not so bad once one got to know him. After that odd lodger showed up, Cyrus stopped by Lawrence's bathhouse and told him everything he knew about the man.
Whenever that old man changed houses, the previous host would relay information to the next, and this meant that all the accumulated intelligence had safely reached Lawrence in the end. Of course, he told Holo the Wisewolf this information.
"I suspect he may be a medicine man."
| Today, their bread was a pure-white wheat bread, as it was the least they could provide to a guest that had paid them a whole gold lumione. The loaves were sweet and soft, and it was easy to eat plenty of them.
But Holo had put a gash in the bread and filled it with beans and bacon. It reminded him of a boneheaded cat when his greedy wife suggested putting one delicious thing with another would just make the result even tastier. With a big smile, she bit into the fluffy bread.
"Hmm, nom...gulp. Aye. Because—"
Lawrence cleaned off the skin of a bean that had gotten stuck to her cheek and urged her to continue.
"There is the smell of herbs about him, as well as a metallic scent coming from the items he carries on his person. There must be a sickle or the likes."
"If he's a traveler, then he would definitely have herbs and a short sword on him. Maybe that's not it?"
"'Tis easy to tell for those who are used to smelling herbs. No, since I know the smell, I have smelled it somewhere before..."
She closed her eyes, searching for something in her memory, and greedily bit into the bread with her tiny mouth. Some might consider the way she gobbled it down bad manners, but there was an innocence about it that Lawrence loved.
"And hmm. For whatever reason, he has wheat on him."
Holo was a spirit who lived in wheat. Long ago, when she had snuck into Lawrence's wagon, she was only able to do so by using wheat.
"It's probably rations. Something you would want to have when you travel to a cold place. Even if you had a snow shed, you probably wouldn't put food in there. It can keep for years if it's not ground into powder."
"Hmm? Well, you are more knowledgeable of the human world than I am. Also, the way he's dressed. You can tell what a man's trade is by the way he dresses in the human world, aye?"
An innkeeper was an innkeeper, a money changer was a money changer, a merchant was a merchant. A smith would proudly wear an apron of thick, burn-resistant hide; a baker would wear a special hat.
Like Holo said, regular people would wear special outfits that showed their profession rather than stating it outright.
"I've never seen such a big hat before."
It seemed as deep as a pot, and when the old man wore it, it almost covered his entire face. It was so unique that if he knew what job required such a thing, then he would be satisfied.
"There is metal inside that fur. If he wears that by design to roam out in the mountains, then it must be because he's always next to the mountain slopes so he needs to protect his head from falling rocks."
"...Metal? Now that I think of it, another owner told me that he might be a speculator looking for a mine."
However, mining would wreck the environment, and if the old man wanted to work here then he would need a special permit. Many of Nyohhira's guests had power and money, and the inhabitants had many connections they could call on to protect the land. If it was not something that would bring at least as much gold as the waters here did, then there was no way anyone would be able to get a permit. A speculator of that age would certainly know this.
"The word from those in the mountains is that somebody has been venturing into their territory but they don't know what to do. If he were a hunter, then they'd fight him fair and square, but he doesn't have anything resembling a weapon, and he does not chase any prey, so they, too, are confused."
Since Holo's true form was a wolf, it seemed as though she could communicate with normal animals.
This bathhouse was in a village in the mountains, and even further in than the others since the Spice and Wolf establishment was situated on the outskirts of the village. Regular bathhouses would normally be attacked all the time by mountain creatures, making it nearly impossible to conduct business, but Holo had given them strict orders, and they had been able to avoid any incidents.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Today, their bread was a pure-white wheat bread, as it was the least they could provide to a guest that had paid them a whole gold lumione. The loaves were sweet and soft, and it was easy to eat plenty of them.
But Holo had put a gash in the bread and filled it with beans and bacon. It reminded him of a boneheaded cat when his greedy wife suggested putting one delicious thing with another would just make the result even tastier. With a big smile, she bit into the fluffy bread.
"Hmm, nom...gulp. Aye. Because—"
Lawrence cleaned off the skin of a bean that had gotten stuck to her cheek and urged her to continue.
"There is the smell of herbs about him, as well as a metallic scent coming from the items he carries on his person. There must be a sickle or the likes."
"If he's a traveler, then he would definitely have herbs and a short sword on him. Maybe that's not it?"
"'Tis easy to tell for those who are used to smelling herbs. No, since I know the smell, I have smelled it somewhere before..."
She closed her eyes, searching for something in her memory, and greedily bit into the bread with her tiny mouth. Some might consider the way she gobbled it down bad manners, but there was an innocence about it that Lawrence loved.
"And hmm. For whatever reason, he has wheat on him."
Holo was a spirit who lived in wheat. Long ago, when she had snuck into Lawrence's wagon, she was only able to do so by using wheat.
"It's probably rations. Something you would want to have when you travel to a cold place. Even if you had a snow shed, you probably wouldn't put food in there. It can keep for years if it's not ground into powder."
"Hmm? Well, you are more knowledgeable of the human world than I am. Also, the way he's dressed. You can tell what a man's trade is by the way he dresses in the human world, aye?"
An innkeeper was an innkeeper, a money changer was a money changer, a merchant was a merchant. A smith would proudly wear an apron of thick, burn-resistant hide; a baker would wear a special hat.
Like Holo said, regular people would wear special outfits that showed their profession rather than stating it outright.
"I've never seen such a big hat before."
It seemed as deep as a pot, and when the old man wore it, it almost covered his entire face. It was so unique that if he knew what job required such a thing, then he would be satisfied.
"There is metal inside that fur. If he wears that by design to roam out in the mountains, then it must be because he's always next to the mountain slopes so he needs to protect his head from falling rocks."
"...Metal? Now that I think of it, another owner told me that he might be a speculator looking for a mine."
However, mining would wreck the environment, and if the old man wanted to work here then he would need a special permit. Many of Nyohhira's guests had power and money, and the inhabitants had many connections they could call on to protect the land. If it was not something that would bring at least as much gold as the waters here did, then there was no way anyone would be able to get a permit. A speculator of that age would certainly know this.
"The word from those in the mountains is that somebody has been venturing into their territory but they don't know what to do. If he were a hunter, then they'd fight him fair and square, but he doesn't have anything resembling a weapon, and he does not chase any prey, so they, too, are confused."
Since Holo's true form was a wolf, it seemed as though she could communicate with normal animals.
This bathhouse was in a village in the mountains, and even further in than the others since the Spice and Wolf establishment was situated on the outskirts of the village. Regular bathhouses would normally be attacked all the time by mountain creatures, making it nearly impossible to conduct business, but Holo had given them strict orders, and they had been able to avoid any incidents.
| "If you say that, then I can't imagine he's doing anything else but searching for something in the mountains."
"Hmm."
Holo finished her bread and licked her slim and delicate fingers. Ever since their daughter's birth, she had not acted like this, so for Lawrence to see it for the first time in a while made him feel as though time had turned backward.
Moreover, Myuri acted the same way.
"But we do not know if searching is all he's doing."
"What do you mean?"
Lawrence didn't understand and Holo gave him an irritated look.
She sighed a bit, reached out for the jug, then poured wine only for herself.
"He moves from inn to inn, aye? And he seems to hold no interest in the baths, the rooms, singing, or dancing. So...?"
"...Oh, that's right!"
The maids at the communal oven even spoke about how he was staying at the houses in order of oldest to newest. If he was searching for something in the village bathhouses, then that made sense.
"I feel like I've heard a story like that before...a rich merchant falls ill in a town during his travels. Then he secretly writes about where his hidden fortune is cloistered somewhere in the house."
Lawrence told it like a funny story, but his expression suddenly became serious.
"What if...that was real?"
"Huh?"
"It's how much he's paying—all that money. I haven't seen a gold lumione in a long time. If he were searching for something, you could understand how that would be payment for searching. Lots of our customers here have status, fame, or money, anyway."
"Hmm. Were that true, then you think he goes from house to house, searching for the hidden message, and then takes his lunch out to look for the fortune buried in the mountain?"
"It's possible it could be a light treasure, like a will or a charter."
Lawrence began to think seriously, but Holo suddenly sighed and snatched his piece of bacon.
"H-hey, that's mine!"
"'Tis too much for a fool in the morning," Holo said and inhaled the morsel.
She licked the grease off her fingers and then looked at Lawrence, irritated.
"Have you forgotten that he has no interest in the water or the rooms?"
"...Oh."
"Were there a clue in the walls or the ceiling, he'd be searching until his eyes ran with blood. And there could be something hidden under the rocks in the bath. If he was doing something like that, we'd know right away. He's been moving around the village all winter, aye?"
"That's right...Hmm...But searching for something as he goes around to each inn really makes sense."
"He may be searching for something we can't see."
"Huh?" Lawrence asked and, at the same time, was shocked.
Holo was looking at him, a sad and lonely smile on her face.
"Like memories."
***
Holo was embarrassed and suddenly stood from her chair.
Then, she wrapped her arm around an unmoving Lawrence's neck in an embrace. The reason she let go so quickly was likely just a show.
"Well then, I shall go tidy the mending," Holo said in a deliberately bright manner and hurried up the stairs. Lawrence followed her with his gaze, watching until he could no longer see the fur on her tail.
Bound by her memories, Holo had stayed in the same wheat field in the same village for hundreds of years. As she did so, she had forgotten the road home and many things disappeared in the flow of time. Even after she left the village, the places she visited on her journey were so different from how she remembered that there were times she shed tears. In the end, she was able to realize she had visited this or that place before by the smell of their traditional food.
The old guest, who wore the strange fur hat on his head, seemed much older than Lawrence. It was possible that in search of memories from days long past and long forgotten, money was no object for this man.
If he visited the bathhouse where he had stayed on a previous visit to Nyohhira so long ago that he had forgotten the establishment's name, maybe he could recall what it was that he had left behind in these mountains.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "If you say that, then I can't imagine he's doing anything else but searching for something in the mountains."
"Hmm."
Holo finished her bread and licked her slim and delicate fingers. Ever since their daughter's birth, she had not acted like this, so for Lawrence to see it for the first time in a while made him feel as though time had turned backward.
Moreover, Myuri acted the same way.
"But we do not know if searching is all he's doing."
"What do you mean?"
Lawrence didn't understand and Holo gave him an irritated look.
She sighed a bit, reached out for the jug, then poured wine only for herself.
"He moves from inn to inn, aye? And he seems to hold no interest in the baths, the rooms, singing, or dancing. So...?"
"...Oh, that's right!"
The maids at the communal oven even spoke about how he was staying at the houses in order of oldest to newest. If he was searching for something in the village bathhouses, then that made sense.
"I feel like I've heard a story like that before...a rich merchant falls ill in a town during his travels. Then he secretly writes about where his hidden fortune is cloistered somewhere in the house."
Lawrence told it like a funny story, but his expression suddenly became serious.
"What if...that was real?"
"Huh?"
"It's how much he's paying—all that money. I haven't seen a gold lumione in a long time. If he were searching for something, you could understand how that would be payment for searching. Lots of our customers here have status, fame, or money, anyway."
"Hmm. Were that true, then you think he goes from house to house, searching for the hidden message, and then takes his lunch out to look for the fortune buried in the mountain?"
"It's possible it could be a light treasure, like a will or a charter."
Lawrence began to think seriously, but Holo suddenly sighed and snatched his piece of bacon.
"H-hey, that's mine!"
"'Tis too much for a fool in the morning," Holo said and inhaled the morsel.
She licked the grease off her fingers and then looked at Lawrence, irritated.
"Have you forgotten that he has no interest in the water or the rooms?"
"...Oh."
"Were there a clue in the walls or the ceiling, he'd be searching until his eyes ran with blood. And there could be something hidden under the rocks in the bath. If he was doing something like that, we'd know right away. He's been moving around the village all winter, aye?"
"That's right...Hmm...But searching for something as he goes around to each inn really makes sense."
"He may be searching for something we can't see."
"Huh?" Lawrence asked and, at the same time, was shocked.
Holo was looking at him, a sad and lonely smile on her face.
"Like memories."
***
Holo was embarrassed and suddenly stood from her chair.
Then, she wrapped her arm around an unmoving Lawrence's neck in an embrace. The reason she let go so quickly was likely just a show.
"Well then, I shall go tidy the mending," Holo said in a deliberately bright manner and hurried up the stairs. Lawrence followed her with his gaze, watching until he could no longer see the fur on her tail.
Bound by her memories, Holo had stayed in the same wheat field in the same village for hundreds of years. As she did so, she had forgotten the road home and many things disappeared in the flow of time. Even after she left the village, the places she visited on her journey were so different from how she remembered that there were times she shed tears. In the end, she was able to realize she had visited this or that place before by the smell of their traditional food.
The old guest, who wore the strange fur hat on his head, seemed much older than Lawrence. It was possible that in search of memories from days long past and long forgotten, money was no object for this man.
If he visited the bathhouse where he had stayed on a previous visit to Nyohhira so long ago that he had forgotten the establishment's name, maybe he could recall what it was that he had left behind in these mountains.
| Lawrence brought more beans, which had already gone cold, to his mouth and chewed. Though they were cool, the flavors had blended together and it was delicious. One or two stories would embed themselves like this into a bathhouse after a long time.
Lawrence quickly finished his meal and rose from his chair.
It was not uncommon for travelers to perish during their journeys while staying at roadside inns. Though there existed hospitals on pilgrimage roads, with monasteries as the parent building, the operating costs for these facilities mainly came from the wills of those that died there. It was often said that one could profit handsomely from a well-placed hospital on a famous route.
Though there were occasionally guests that passed away while staying in Nyohhira, they often wrote their wills before coming, and there were no rumors of anyone inheriting large sums. Since many of their guests were of old age, and Nyohhira itself was located quite far to the north, customers came prepared.
Besides, it would be distasteful to leave one's fortune at a relaxing place such as a hot spring village.
But customer death itself was not unheard of, so everyone had to be ready for that possibility.
"By the time he moved to Ramaninov's place, most of the other owners should have questioned it already."
Cyrus, the owner of the bathhouse that the mysterious guest stayed in before moving on to Lawrence's, spoke with a grim look.
It was not that he disliked Lawrence, nor was he looking down on Lawrence's shallow thinking. Cyrus was a hard man to read, with his beard covering more than half of his square face, and his eyebrows were as thick as two fingers. Moreover, he was not very expressive, and when combined with a mild demeanor, Cyrus was often misunderstood.
Lawrence quickly found out that he was a good person, though, once he talked to him.
"But, Mr. Lawrence, the competition between bathhouses here is fierce. What do you do with the room once a guest has gone home?"
"Of course, clean every nook and cranny. They leave piles of trash, you know."
"That's right. Even under the roof and in the basement. Skimp on the cleaning, and suddenly there are mice and owl nests everywhere. If someone squirreled away their will somewhere, we'd have found it by now."
"We wouldn't know right away—it could have been left as a symbol," Lawrence retorted, and Cyrus suddenly coughed, pouring alcohol into the cup that sat on a record book. It was bittersweet liquor made from the lingonberries gathered in the summer.
Upon closer inspection, Lawrence could see that the face across from him was smiling.
"I don't hate notions like this. I'd enjoy some occasional drama and adventure around these parts, too."
Lawrence was not sure if it was a compliment, but he accepted the liquor. The alcohol Cyrus kept at his place was always good. The bathhouse masters often combined their hobbies with practicality and brewed their own, but Cyrus was particularly absorbed in it. The man simply treasured truly delicious drink, and he was thankful that he could blame it on the alcohol anytime he uttered something foolish.
"But...I don't think that guy's looking around the insides of the houses. I think every owner would say the same, since they know at all times where even all the mice families roam."
If that was true, then it was not as though the elderly guest would secretly be searching inside the ceiling in the middle of the night.
"Do you know where he goes during the day?" Lawrence asked, and Cyrus, unyielding, shrugged his rugged shoulders.
"It's only recently that most guests have left and gone home for any bathhouse. No one has time to keep track of his activities during the busy daytime hours."
Cyrus lapped his liquor and tilted his head as he closed his eyes.
"It's a bit too sweet," he murmured, much more aware of these things than Lawrence was.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence brought more beans, which had already gone cold, to his mouth and chewed. Though they were cool, the flavors had blended together and it was delicious. One or two stories would embed themselves like this into a bathhouse after a long time.
Lawrence quickly finished his meal and rose from his chair.
It was not uncommon for travelers to perish during their journeys while staying at roadside inns. Though there existed hospitals on pilgrimage roads, with monasteries as the parent building, the operating costs for these facilities mainly came from the wills of those that died there. It was often said that one could profit handsomely from a well-placed hospital on a famous route.
Though there were occasionally guests that passed away while staying in Nyohhira, they often wrote their wills before coming, and there were no rumors of anyone inheriting large sums. Since many of their guests were of old age, and Nyohhira itself was located quite far to the north, customers came prepared.
Besides, it would be distasteful to leave one's fortune at a relaxing place such as a hot spring village.
But customer death itself was not unheard of, so everyone had to be ready for that possibility.
"By the time he moved to Ramaninov's place, most of the other owners should have questioned it already."
Cyrus, the owner of the bathhouse that the mysterious guest stayed in before moving on to Lawrence's, spoke with a grim look.
It was not that he disliked Lawrence, nor was he looking down on Lawrence's shallow thinking. Cyrus was a hard man to read, with his beard covering more than half of his square face, and his eyebrows were as thick as two fingers. Moreover, he was not very expressive, and when combined with a mild demeanor, Cyrus was often misunderstood.
Lawrence quickly found out that he was a good person, though, once he talked to him.
"But, Mr. Lawrence, the competition between bathhouses here is fierce. What do you do with the room once a guest has gone home?"
"Of course, clean every nook and cranny. They leave piles of trash, you know."
"That's right. Even under the roof and in the basement. Skimp on the cleaning, and suddenly there are mice and owl nests everywhere. If someone squirreled away their will somewhere, we'd have found it by now."
"We wouldn't know right away—it could have been left as a symbol," Lawrence retorted, and Cyrus suddenly coughed, pouring alcohol into the cup that sat on a record book. It was bittersweet liquor made from the lingonberries gathered in the summer.
Upon closer inspection, Lawrence could see that the face across from him was smiling.
"I don't hate notions like this. I'd enjoy some occasional drama and adventure around these parts, too."
Lawrence was not sure if it was a compliment, but he accepted the liquor. The alcohol Cyrus kept at his place was always good. The bathhouse masters often combined their hobbies with practicality and brewed their own, but Cyrus was particularly absorbed in it. The man simply treasured truly delicious drink, and he was thankful that he could blame it on the alcohol anytime he uttered something foolish.
"But...I don't think that guy's looking around the insides of the houses. I think every owner would say the same, since they know at all times where even all the mice families roam."
If that was true, then it was not as though the elderly guest would secretly be searching inside the ceiling in the middle of the night.
"Do you know where he goes during the day?" Lawrence asked, and Cyrus, unyielding, shrugged his rugged shoulders.
"It's only recently that most guests have left and gone home for any bathhouse. No one has time to keep track of his activities during the busy daytime hours."
Cyrus lapped his liquor and tilted his head as he closed his eyes.
"It's a bit too sweet," he murmured, much more aware of these things than Lawrence was.
| This matched the stories that Holo heard from the animals in the mountains.
"But why now?"
Cyrus posed his question suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"Hmm...I don't want you to think bad of me, but he's staying at your place, Lawrence; that means he's probably going home soon."
Lawrence immediately understood what Cyrus was getting at.
"Right. I also thought that nothing would really come of looking into it now."
The more senior bathhouse owners had all racked their brains over this mystery already, so it seemed incredibly pointless for Lawrence to do anything. If he was still going to try, he would need a special reason to do so.
"It's mostly pure curiosity. I used to be a merchant, you know."
"Curiosity...?"
To those who spent all their time in an unchanging village where the same things happened over and over, it must have sounded foreign. The bear-like Cyrus repeated Lawrence's words, quite interested.
"And the rest?"
"Pride, actually."
Whatever he said was the alcohol's fault. Lawrence took another drink, as if trying to convince himself.
"This is Nyohhira. Any and all troubles melt away in our spring water, and everyone can spend their days happily. Don't you want them to go home happy?"
He recalled the old man's gloomy face.
"I think it's perfect for a newcomer like me to simply maintain that practice."
He added that the customer in question was an excellent patron who paid in gold coins.
Cyrus's eyes twinkled, and he scratched his head.
"That's true, though only a newcomer could say a naive line like that."
"Everyone else already smells like sulfur, anyway."
Cyrus agreed, shaking his shoulders in laughter, and stretched out his back. He faced the entrance of the house, almost as though he expected to see that old man walking in right at that moment.
"I didn't think he was a bad guest." Cyrus spoke again, quietly. "He paid well, and he didn't complain much."
"What about the early-morning lunch boxes?"
"The kitchen maid complained to me, of course."
Lawrence laughed, but Cyrus continued.
"And another thing. What I liked was that he was quite the drinker. He drank carefully, like he savored and tasted it. That's unusual for guests here."
"Everyone else drinks like a fish."
Cyrus narrowed his eyes, still gazing at the entrance, and emitted a small sigh.
"He moved on with a glum face, but I was the one left smiling. I think the steam from the baths clouded my eyes and soul as a bathhouse master."
He dropped his eyes to his hands and took a drink of his specialty liquor.
"It's the same with the strange festival you came up with before, Mr. Lawrence. We're worn down in our everyday lives, little by little. A stone in the river becomes nice and smooth, but the current can carry it away. It can't stop or endure the pull anymore. But then we're used to it, and even if we look for excitement, we end up missing everything. I was ignoring the guests who seemed grouchy, who couldn't say what they needed to say to the ones closest to them, even though they were right here in Nyohhira."
Cyrus spoke at length, then suddenly closed his mouth. He hung his head, his expression a bit sad, then murmured as though speaking to his reflection in the liquor.
"This is unlike me. I talked too much."
It seemed as though he was blushing behind his beard.
Lawrence took a drink and then spoke.
"I actually like how sweet this is."
Cyrus lifted his head and laughed in relief.
"That's probably because your own bathhouse is so sweet."
"My own bathhouse?"
"It's a thing among the guests. They say watching the couple that owns Spice and Wolf interact is much more interesting than the musicians and dancers there. It's a reflection of the bathhouses in Nyohhira."
***
Lawrence tried to show his personal opinion with a feigned expression, but it did not seem to fool the other man.
Cyrus seemed to be pleased from the bottom of his heart and took another sip.
"I can see how young Myuri was raised to be such an open, innocent girl."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | This matched the stories that Holo heard from the animals in the mountains.
"But why now?"
Cyrus posed his question suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"Hmm...I don't want you to think bad of me, but he's staying at your place, Lawrence; that means he's probably going home soon."
Lawrence immediately understood what Cyrus was getting at.
"Right. I also thought that nothing would really come of looking into it now."
The more senior bathhouse owners had all racked their brains over this mystery already, so it seemed incredibly pointless for Lawrence to do anything. If he was still going to try, he would need a special reason to do so.
"It's mostly pure curiosity. I used to be a merchant, you know."
"Curiosity...?"
To those who spent all their time in an unchanging village where the same things happened over and over, it must have sounded foreign. The bear-like Cyrus repeated Lawrence's words, quite interested.
"And the rest?"
"Pride, actually."
Whatever he said was the alcohol's fault. Lawrence took another drink, as if trying to convince himself.
"This is Nyohhira. Any and all troubles melt away in our spring water, and everyone can spend their days happily. Don't you want them to go home happy?"
He recalled the old man's gloomy face.
"I think it's perfect for a newcomer like me to simply maintain that practice."
He added that the customer in question was an excellent patron who paid in gold coins.
Cyrus's eyes twinkled, and he scratched his head.
"That's true, though only a newcomer could say a naive line like that."
"Everyone else already smells like sulfur, anyway."
Cyrus agreed, shaking his shoulders in laughter, and stretched out his back. He faced the entrance of the house, almost as though he expected to see that old man walking in right at that moment.
"I didn't think he was a bad guest." Cyrus spoke again, quietly. "He paid well, and he didn't complain much."
"What about the early-morning lunch boxes?"
"The kitchen maid complained to me, of course."
Lawrence laughed, but Cyrus continued.
"And another thing. What I liked was that he was quite the drinker. He drank carefully, like he savored and tasted it. That's unusual for guests here."
"Everyone else drinks like a fish."
Cyrus narrowed his eyes, still gazing at the entrance, and emitted a small sigh.
"He moved on with a glum face, but I was the one left smiling. I think the steam from the baths clouded my eyes and soul as a bathhouse master."
He dropped his eyes to his hands and took a drink of his specialty liquor.
"It's the same with the strange festival you came up with before, Mr. Lawrence. We're worn down in our everyday lives, little by little. A stone in the river becomes nice and smooth, but the current can carry it away. It can't stop or endure the pull anymore. But then we're used to it, and even if we look for excitement, we end up missing everything. I was ignoring the guests who seemed grouchy, who couldn't say what they needed to say to the ones closest to them, even though they were right here in Nyohhira."
Cyrus spoke at length, then suddenly closed his mouth. He hung his head, his expression a bit sad, then murmured as though speaking to his reflection in the liquor.
"This is unlike me. I talked too much."
It seemed as though he was blushing behind his beard.
Lawrence took a drink and then spoke.
"I actually like how sweet this is."
Cyrus lifted his head and laughed in relief.
"That's probably because your own bathhouse is so sweet."
"My own bathhouse?"
"It's a thing among the guests. They say watching the couple that owns Spice and Wolf interact is much more interesting than the musicians and dancers there. It's a reflection of the bathhouses in Nyohhira."
***
Lawrence tried to show his personal opinion with a feigned expression, but it did not seem to fool the other man.
Cyrus seemed to be pleased from the bottom of his heart and took another sip.
"I can see how young Myuri was raised to be such an open, innocent girl."
| His gentle speech softly echoed throughout the building.
Lawrence's face was hot due to the alcohol and nothing else. As he told himself this, Cyrus laughed.
"I'll do what I can to help you with that guest," Cyrus said as they parted, and he waved his hand. Lawrence ended up staying quite a while at his place. Cyrus treated him to all sorts of fruit liquor that had matured during the winter, and Lawrence departed for home a bit drunk. He had also offered some lunch before he left, but Lawrence could not bring himself to accept that on top of everything else.
They had talked about the mystery guest, and once Lawrence thanked him for the alcohol, he left.
He started feeling it as he walked back, and mastering his shaky legs, he finally reached home. There, Holo and Hanna were doing the mending together in the dining hall. The second they looked at his face, they furrowed their brows.
"You seem in good spirits, aye?"
He could not argue, since he had left the needlework to the women as he came home drunk.
Meekly, he dropped his head partly out of regret, as though she would bite off his head, but that just made him feel dizzier.
"The liquor at Cyrus's place...hic...is really...good..."
"Honestly, you fool."
Holo placed the hemp sheet on the long table and stood, pressing close to Lawrence.
When he thought she would give him a good punch, she lent him her shoulder.
"I cannot stand the smell of alcohol in the bedroom. Hanna, fetch water and a blanket."
"Yes, ma'am."
As though she already expected it, Hanna had also risen from her chair. As Lawrence watched her, Holo pulled him into the next room.
It was a carpeted room, where a hearth was carved into the floor. Hanging from the beams on the ceiling were meats and fish that they caught near the village, which were often smoked or roasted as a snack to accompany drinks for those who stayed awake at night. Occasionally, this was a place to rest for those who got drunk too early in the day and could not navigate the stairs.
She left him to lie there, and he stared absently up at the sooty ceiling.
This ceiling, which had been around for a little over ten years, looked as though it had been used for a long time, but a closer examination showed that it was still quite new.
It was said that a bathhouse would be considered seasoned when soot made the joinery in the wood invisible.
Not fighting his heavy eyelids, he murmured to himself, "From now on, from now on..."
"You shan't sleep yet."
Just as his consciousness was about to blink out, he could feel someone tugging his head up and something shoved into his mouth.
"You must drink some water."
Holo looked down at him, a serious expression on her face. She's worried about me, he thought and smiled in happiness.
"Don't laugh, you drunk. Drink!"
She scolded him, and he swallowed the cool water. It must have been snow melted in the hot baths. It was trouble to draw water from the river every day, so most bathhouses used snow this way.
When he first drank it, after tamping snow into a jug and boiling it into barely potable water, it tasted too much like sulfur, as though the steam had dissolved in it. But now, he thought of it as the unique taste of Nyohhira's water.
"Honestly, 'tis much too early for you to smell like such delicious liquor...Lingonberries, currants...Mm, oh, is that blackberry?"
Holo sniffed him, as though discerning which smell was which, and complained bitterly.
"It was...good. He's particular about...the water, right?" Lawrence said, laughing, and Holo smacked him on the forehead. Then Hanna soon covered him in a blanket and took the time to place burning charcoal in the hearth and added a bit of wood.
"You fool. You owe me, aye?"
Holo admonished him and secured her own future right to get brazenly drunk during the daytime.
Lawrence smiled and closed his eyes and heard a sigh.
Suddenly, she picked up his head and something was placed between that and the floor.
***
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | His gentle speech softly echoed throughout the building.
Lawrence's face was hot due to the alcohol and nothing else. As he told himself this, Cyrus laughed.
"I'll do what I can to help you with that guest," Cyrus said as they parted, and he waved his hand. Lawrence ended up staying quite a while at his place. Cyrus treated him to all sorts of fruit liquor that had matured during the winter, and Lawrence departed for home a bit drunk. He had also offered some lunch before he left, but Lawrence could not bring himself to accept that on top of everything else.
They had talked about the mystery guest, and once Lawrence thanked him for the alcohol, he left.
He started feeling it as he walked back, and mastering his shaky legs, he finally reached home. There, Holo and Hanna were doing the mending together in the dining hall. The second they looked at his face, they furrowed their brows.
"You seem in good spirits, aye?"
He could not argue, since he had left the needlework to the women as he came home drunk.
Meekly, he dropped his head partly out of regret, as though she would bite off his head, but that just made him feel dizzier.
"The liquor at Cyrus's place...hic...is really...good..."
"Honestly, you fool."
Holo placed the hemp sheet on the long table and stood, pressing close to Lawrence.
When he thought she would give him a good punch, she lent him her shoulder.
"I cannot stand the smell of alcohol in the bedroom. Hanna, fetch water and a blanket."
"Yes, ma'am."
As though she already expected it, Hanna had also risen from her chair. As Lawrence watched her, Holo pulled him into the next room.
It was a carpeted room, where a hearth was carved into the floor. Hanging from the beams on the ceiling were meats and fish that they caught near the village, which were often smoked or roasted as a snack to accompany drinks for those who stayed awake at night. Occasionally, this was a place to rest for those who got drunk too early in the day and could not navigate the stairs.
She left him to lie there, and he stared absently up at the sooty ceiling.
This ceiling, which had been around for a little over ten years, looked as though it had been used for a long time, but a closer examination showed that it was still quite new.
It was said that a bathhouse would be considered seasoned when soot made the joinery in the wood invisible.
Not fighting his heavy eyelids, he murmured to himself, "From now on, from now on..."
"You shan't sleep yet."
Just as his consciousness was about to blink out, he could feel someone tugging his head up and something shoved into his mouth.
"You must drink some water."
Holo looked down at him, a serious expression on her face. She's worried about me, he thought and smiled in happiness.
"Don't laugh, you drunk. Drink!"
She scolded him, and he swallowed the cool water. It must have been snow melted in the hot baths. It was trouble to draw water from the river every day, so most bathhouses used snow this way.
When he first drank it, after tamping snow into a jug and boiling it into barely potable water, it tasted too much like sulfur, as though the steam had dissolved in it. But now, he thought of it as the unique taste of Nyohhira's water.
"Honestly, 'tis much too early for you to smell like such delicious liquor...Lingonberries, currants...Mm, oh, is that blackberry?"
Holo sniffed him, as though discerning which smell was which, and complained bitterly.
"It was...good. He's particular about...the water, right?" Lawrence said, laughing, and Holo smacked him on the forehead. Then Hanna soon covered him in a blanket and took the time to place burning charcoal in the hearth and added a bit of wood.
"You fool. You owe me, aye?"
Holo admonished him and secured her own future right to get brazenly drunk during the daytime.
Lawrence smiled and closed his eyes and heard a sigh.
Suddenly, she picked up his head and something was placed between that and the floor.
***
| "Wha—? What is it?"
"Mm?"
Removing the cloth, he noticed Holo's face decorated with a bit of a mischievous smile.
It seemed she received the rest of the mending from Hanna.
"'Tis a bother that only I am working."
She laid her drunken husband's head in her lap.
This would be considered the act of a wonderful wife if that was all, but it was Holo's style to place the mending cloth atop her husband's face.
"If you find it unpleasant, I shan't mind if you move, you know."
If he did move, there was no doubt that she would not speak a word to him for at least three days.
Lawrence sighed, giving up, and closed his eyes.
Holo secretly smiled, but he could feel it through her legs.
She ran her fingers through his hair, and as she did that, he fell asleep.
When he suddenly came to, the view of a ceiling that was not his bedroom's greeted him. The guilt of taking such a long nap and irresistible comfort came together into a yawn. He must have felt incredibly tired because he had dreamed that Holo was throwing acorns at him. They hit his head with soft thunks.
When he thought that it was oddly warm in the blanket, he noticed Holo was with him. She breathed softly, going "fuu fuu" in her sleep, comfortably. Thinking she should at least take off her head covering while she slept, he reached out to remove it but stopped.
He could hear the unmistakable sound of water dripping.
He thought for a moment there was a leak, but that was not it. The sound told him to remember something more serious, more important. Right. What Holo was throwing at him in his dream were not acorns...
That was it.
He shot up and looked toward the entrance to the bathhouse.
***
There stood the strange guest, completely drenched from the snow.
"I—I didn't realize!"
His dream about acorns hitting his head had actually been footsteps sounding against the floor.
He could not believe he had shown the man such a disgraceful sight, the master of the bathhouse himself leisurely taking a nap. He hastened to right himself, but then he remembered Holo, who clung to him. He tried to hide her, pulling the blanket over her, as though it would somehow trick the man at this point.
The old man stared at him.
Lawrence could do nothing but show him a strained smile.
"...Mm...Hey...," came a muffled voice from inside the blanket.
Lawrence ignored his wife, pulling her off before lifting her and wrapping the blanket around her. "Huh? What?!" Holo wriggled inside, but he pretended not to hear.
"Please wait there a moment! I will bring you something to dry off with and prepare the fire shortly!" he said to the old man, who stood silently in the doorway, and rushed off, carrying Holo to the second floor. He was painfully aware of the old man's stare following them.
How embarrassing!
Though the old man likely had not seen Holo's ears and tail, it still cast a shadow on their service quality.
Dropping the Holo bundle onto the bed, Lawrence hurried back down to the first floor, ignoring his wife's censure.
Having fed both the hearth and the stove with plenty of wood, the guest's wet items were drying. There was no such thing as being too thorough with a single guest, and one that paid in gold at that.
However, no matter how many times Lawrence spoke to the old man—"Why don't you use the baths to warm up?" or "Would you like something to eat before dinner?" or "Where did you go today?"—he was met with silence. He sometimes shook his head or nodded, so it was not as though he was completely ignoring the questions, but the mysterious man was still difficult to deal with.
Lawrence felt indebted after showing his customer such a foolish scene and found himself on the defensive. But if the host paid the guest too much attention, it could backfire and make him even more uncomfortable. Lawrence told the old man to call him if he needed anything and let him be.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Wha—? What is it?"
"Mm?"
Removing the cloth, he noticed Holo's face decorated with a bit of a mischievous smile.
It seemed she received the rest of the mending from Hanna.
"'Tis a bother that only I am working."
She laid her drunken husband's head in her lap.
This would be considered the act of a wonderful wife if that was all, but it was Holo's style to place the mending cloth atop her husband's face.
"If you find it unpleasant, I shan't mind if you move, you know."
If he did move, there was no doubt that she would not speak a word to him for at least three days.
Lawrence sighed, giving up, and closed his eyes.
Holo secretly smiled, but he could feel it through her legs.
She ran her fingers through his hair, and as she did that, he fell asleep.
When he suddenly came to, the view of a ceiling that was not his bedroom's greeted him. The guilt of taking such a long nap and irresistible comfort came together into a yawn. He must have felt incredibly tired because he had dreamed that Holo was throwing acorns at him. They hit his head with soft thunks.
When he thought that it was oddly warm in the blanket, he noticed Holo was with him. She breathed softly, going "fuu fuu" in her sleep, comfortably. Thinking she should at least take off her head covering while she slept, he reached out to remove it but stopped.
He could hear the unmistakable sound of water dripping.
He thought for a moment there was a leak, but that was not it. The sound told him to remember something more serious, more important. Right. What Holo was throwing at him in his dream were not acorns...
That was it.
He shot up and looked toward the entrance to the bathhouse.
***
There stood the strange guest, completely drenched from the snow.
"I—I didn't realize!"
His dream about acorns hitting his head had actually been footsteps sounding against the floor.
He could not believe he had shown the man such a disgraceful sight, the master of the bathhouse himself leisurely taking a nap. He hastened to right himself, but then he remembered Holo, who clung to him. He tried to hide her, pulling the blanket over her, as though it would somehow trick the man at this point.
The old man stared at him.
Lawrence could do nothing but show him a strained smile.
"...Mm...Hey...," came a muffled voice from inside the blanket.
Lawrence ignored his wife, pulling her off before lifting her and wrapping the blanket around her. "Huh? What?!" Holo wriggled inside, but he pretended not to hear.
"Please wait there a moment! I will bring you something to dry off with and prepare the fire shortly!" he said to the old man, who stood silently in the doorway, and rushed off, carrying Holo to the second floor. He was painfully aware of the old man's stare following them.
How embarrassing!
Though the old man likely had not seen Holo's ears and tail, it still cast a shadow on their service quality.
Dropping the Holo bundle onto the bed, Lawrence hurried back down to the first floor, ignoring his wife's censure.
Having fed both the hearth and the stove with plenty of wood, the guest's wet items were drying. There was no such thing as being too thorough with a single guest, and one that paid in gold at that.
However, no matter how many times Lawrence spoke to the old man—"Why don't you use the baths to warm up?" or "Would you like something to eat before dinner?" or "Where did you go today?"—he was met with silence. He sometimes shook his head or nodded, so it was not as though he was completely ignoring the questions, but the mysterious man was still difficult to deal with.
Lawrence felt indebted after showing his customer such a foolish scene and found himself on the defensive. But if the host paid the guest too much attention, it could backfire and make him even more uncomfortable. Lawrence told the old man to call him if he needed anything and let him be.
| First, it was clear that since he had come back covered in snow, he had spent the entire time walking around the mountain. Lawrence could also tell that whatever the elder's intentions, it was likely not going so well if he was searching so hard.
What on earth is he looking for?
It seemed that the more Lawrence thought about it, the more questions he ended up with, and he complained as much to Hanna in the kitchen. Ever since he unceremoniously bundled Holo off and abandoned her on the bed upstairs, she had not deigned to leave the bedroom out of anger, and because the odd guest was warming up by the hearth, Hanna had nowhere else to be.
"But I agree with your wife. He is probably an herbalist."
Hanna spoke while she prepared dinner. She chopped and threw vegetables into the pot. She had been growing them throughout the winter, and they were an almost unnatural shade of dark green.
"Is there a reason?"
"I offered him some mulled wine earlier, but he was eating snow!"
"Snow? Did he want cold water?"
Lawrence might have been mistaken assuming their guest wanted something warm after being in the cold outside. He was probably thirsty after moving around a lot.
"That's not what it seemed like, I'm telling you."
She added jerky and pickled cabbage into the pot and then generously sprinkled salt onto it.
"He ate it slowly, as if he was checking it. It means that something is definitely wrong."
Lawrence did not understand what Hanna was saying. He stared at her blankly, and she gave him a surprised look.
"Oh, did you not know, sir?"
"What?"
"In the south, where they grow olives, you can sell snow as medicine. People say it works well for headaches, stomachaches, fevers, and toothaches. Well, I think it's only the nobles that buy it."
Lawrence shook his head. He never traveled that far south, not even when he was a merchant.
"Even in the south, they gather snow from the tall mountains in the winter, you know. They pack trunks with it, and they cram those into the holds on their boats, like they've bundled up the mountain itself. Then, they bury the snow in deep holes, and once the weather becomes hot, they dig everything back up and sell it. Since it's possible to get the goods without paying, people say you can earn quite the profit from it, but different places vary and all that, of course."
"Uh-huh." Lawrence sighed in admiration. It was definitely a trade where a large company used a widely cast distribution network to do business. With their skill and expertise, they could turn even things that fell from the sky into gold. "So you think...he's a southerner?"
A southerner from so far south that he thought of snow as medicine and the land itself had no connection to the cold. A place that even he had never been to, one that he had only heard of in stories...
Lawrence, coming to a conclusion, suddenly raised his voice.
Hanna, who was peering into the oven, turned to face him with a questioning look.
"Could it be...?"
Lawrence suddenly turned on his heel but ended up kicking a colander full of fava beans.
"Waah! Ahh!"
He stepped onto the bellows as he tried collecting the scattered beans. He could hear Hanna laughing behind him.
"You're quite scatterbrained, sir."
He could only show his embarrassment by gesturing with his shoulders as he gave a half smile.
"It's all right. I'll do the rest. I don't know what you've thought up anyhow."
What she must have wanted to say was that she could not have him making a mess in her territory anymore.
"Then, my apologies, I leave the rest to you..."
Hanna, still laughing, shrugged her shoulders.
Lawrence returned the colander to its place and left the kitchen. Then, he took out crude paper and a pot of ink from beneath the counter. He thought the contents might have frozen in the cold, but it seemed usable. He snatched a quill pen and headed to the hearth room.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | First, it was clear that since he had come back covered in snow, he had spent the entire time walking around the mountain. Lawrence could also tell that whatever the elder's intentions, it was likely not going so well if he was searching so hard.
What on earth is he looking for?
It seemed that the more Lawrence thought about it, the more questions he ended up with, and he complained as much to Hanna in the kitchen. Ever since he unceremoniously bundled Holo off and abandoned her on the bed upstairs, she had not deigned to leave the bedroom out of anger, and because the odd guest was warming up by the hearth, Hanna had nowhere else to be.
"But I agree with your wife. He is probably an herbalist."
Hanna spoke while she prepared dinner. She chopped and threw vegetables into the pot. She had been growing them throughout the winter, and they were an almost unnatural shade of dark green.
"Is there a reason?"
"I offered him some mulled wine earlier, but he was eating snow!"
"Snow? Did he want cold water?"
Lawrence might have been mistaken assuming their guest wanted something warm after being in the cold outside. He was probably thirsty after moving around a lot.
"That's not what it seemed like, I'm telling you."
She added jerky and pickled cabbage into the pot and then generously sprinkled salt onto it.
"He ate it slowly, as if he was checking it. It means that something is definitely wrong."
Lawrence did not understand what Hanna was saying. He stared at her blankly, and she gave him a surprised look.
"Oh, did you not know, sir?"
"What?"
"In the south, where they grow olives, you can sell snow as medicine. People say it works well for headaches, stomachaches, fevers, and toothaches. Well, I think it's only the nobles that buy it."
Lawrence shook his head. He never traveled that far south, not even when he was a merchant.
"Even in the south, they gather snow from the tall mountains in the winter, you know. They pack trunks with it, and they cram those into the holds on their boats, like they've bundled up the mountain itself. Then, they bury the snow in deep holes, and once the weather becomes hot, they dig everything back up and sell it. Since it's possible to get the goods without paying, people say you can earn quite the profit from it, but different places vary and all that, of course."
"Uh-huh." Lawrence sighed in admiration. It was definitely a trade where a large company used a widely cast distribution network to do business. With their skill and expertise, they could turn even things that fell from the sky into gold. "So you think...he's a southerner?"
A southerner from so far south that he thought of snow as medicine and the land itself had no connection to the cold. A place that even he had never been to, one that he had only heard of in stories...
Lawrence, coming to a conclusion, suddenly raised his voice.
Hanna, who was peering into the oven, turned to face him with a questioning look.
"Could it be...?"
Lawrence suddenly turned on his heel but ended up kicking a colander full of fava beans.
"Waah! Ahh!"
He stepped onto the bellows as he tried collecting the scattered beans. He could hear Hanna laughing behind him.
"You're quite scatterbrained, sir."
He could only show his embarrassment by gesturing with his shoulders as he gave a half smile.
"It's all right. I'll do the rest. I don't know what you've thought up anyhow."
What she must have wanted to say was that she could not have him making a mess in her territory anymore.
"Then, my apologies, I leave the rest to you..."
Hanna, still laughing, shrugged her shoulders.
Lawrence returned the colander to its place and left the kitchen. Then, he took out crude paper and a pot of ink from beneath the counter. He thought the contents might have frozen in the cold, but it seemed usable. He snatched a quill pen and headed to the hearth room.
| Lawrence entered with a simple "Excuse me" and sat at the other end of the hearth, pen in hand.
Then, he wrote "hello" in every language he knew and showed the paper to the old man, who opened his eyes in surprise and looked at Lawrence.
As Lawrence gestured to each greeting one at a time, the old man looked as though he had seen a dragon in broad daylight and pointed to one. What surprised Lawrence was that the writing the old man pointed to was a language used all throughout the world and probably even in heaven. It was liturgical script, the language of the Church—something that was unreadable without education.
"Who...are you?"
Lawrence asked, not thinking. The old man opened his mouth to respond but immediately closed it. Instead, he pointed to the pen and paper Lawrence held. He gave them to his guest, and the man nodded in thanks before beginning to write fluidly. He was not unfriendly, nor was he stubborn. He had simply been unable to speak.
In addition, having come from so far south, he likely had not thought that a bathhouse owner from such a remote town in what was considered, up until recently, pagan land could read and write in liturgical script.
However, anyone that stayed here a long time would know that there were many high-ranking clergy among the clientele. He should have been able to communicate with the bathhouse masters through them if there were any inconveniences.
As Lawrence thought this odd, the old man showed him what he wrote.
"This is...?" he asked with his eyes, and the old man nodded.
The following was written there:
"I have come here on a mission by the orders of a certain exalted personage. For this, I require special, good water that should be here in this village. However, both snow and pure water here do not seem special. I ask if you are familiar with this."
His writing was elegant and fluid.
He remembered the term medicine man. Then he remembered what Hanna said—snow as medicine.
The old man did not let the details of his goal slip easily since the one that likely required the medicine was this certain exalted personage. If someone who held an important position showed weakness, they would become a target. It was likely that this person was hiding the sickness from their peers. There were many guests from the south that stayed in Nyohhira for extended periods of time. If he had asked another guest who could understand liturgical script to mediate an exchange, it could very well be that the other guest in question was connected to someone influential that opposed his own master. He must have been hesitant to speak openly about searching for medicine.
Coupled with the old man's gloomy expression, this made sense to Lawrence.
***
He began to respond, but he remembered that the old man did not entirely understand the regional language.
He bowed lightly, taking back the pen and paper, and wrote:
"I don't know much about it, but I will ask someone who does."
After reading, the old man raised his head and again bowed deeply.
But Lawrence could not help but ask:
"Why did you decide to tell me of your objective?"
Lawrence thought that it was likely he had given up finding his objective on his own. The old man's expression was troubled, but he finally took the pen in hand. He wrote lightly:
"You seem to be someone I can place my trust in."
Lawrence racked his brain, attempting to recall what the guest might have seen to come to such a conclusion. He decided it was probably more that the old man thought Lawrence was easy to control, rather than trustworthy.
But of course, it was not a problem that this man had placed his confidence in Lawrence. Satisfied, he nodded, resisting the temptation to give the excuse that he was a slightly foolish bathhouse owner.
When looking for something in the mountains, there were plenty of dependable people who could be called on.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence entered with a simple "Excuse me" and sat at the other end of the hearth, pen in hand.
Then, he wrote "hello" in every language he knew and showed the paper to the old man, who opened his eyes in surprise and looked at Lawrence.
As Lawrence gestured to each greeting one at a time, the old man looked as though he had seen a dragon in broad daylight and pointed to one. What surprised Lawrence was that the writing the old man pointed to was a language used all throughout the world and probably even in heaven. It was liturgical script, the language of the Church—something that was unreadable without education.
"Who...are you?"
Lawrence asked, not thinking. The old man opened his mouth to respond but immediately closed it. Instead, he pointed to the pen and paper Lawrence held. He gave them to his guest, and the man nodded in thanks before beginning to write fluidly. He was not unfriendly, nor was he stubborn. He had simply been unable to speak.
In addition, having come from so far south, he likely had not thought that a bathhouse owner from such a remote town in what was considered, up until recently, pagan land could read and write in liturgical script.
However, anyone that stayed here a long time would know that there were many high-ranking clergy among the clientele. He should have been able to communicate with the bathhouse masters through them if there were any inconveniences.
As Lawrence thought this odd, the old man showed him what he wrote.
"This is...?" he asked with his eyes, and the old man nodded.
The following was written there:
"I have come here on a mission by the orders of a certain exalted personage. For this, I require special, good water that should be here in this village. However, both snow and pure water here do not seem special. I ask if you are familiar with this."
His writing was elegant and fluid.
He remembered the term medicine man. Then he remembered what Hanna said—snow as medicine.
The old man did not let the details of his goal slip easily since the one that likely required the medicine was this certain exalted personage. If someone who held an important position showed weakness, they would become a target. It was likely that this person was hiding the sickness from their peers. There were many guests from the south that stayed in Nyohhira for extended periods of time. If he had asked another guest who could understand liturgical script to mediate an exchange, it could very well be that the other guest in question was connected to someone influential that opposed his own master. He must have been hesitant to speak openly about searching for medicine.
Coupled with the old man's gloomy expression, this made sense to Lawrence.
***
He began to respond, but he remembered that the old man did not entirely understand the regional language.
He bowed lightly, taking back the pen and paper, and wrote:
"I don't know much about it, but I will ask someone who does."
After reading, the old man raised his head and again bowed deeply.
But Lawrence could not help but ask:
"Why did you decide to tell me of your objective?"
Lawrence thought that it was likely he had given up finding his objective on his own. The old man's expression was troubled, but he finally took the pen in hand. He wrote lightly:
"You seem to be someone I can place my trust in."
Lawrence racked his brain, attempting to recall what the guest might have seen to come to such a conclusion. He decided it was probably more that the old man thought Lawrence was easy to control, rather than trustworthy.
But of course, it was not a problem that this man had placed his confidence in Lawrence. Satisfied, he nodded, resisting the temptation to give the excuse that he was a slightly foolish bathhouse owner.
When looking for something in the mountains, there were plenty of dependable people who could be called on.
| The problem was, Lawrence rolled up that so-called godlike presence earlier and abandoned her on the bed.
If he went to her empty-handed, he would likely receive nothing but snide remarks. Putting on a fur coat, he first made his way to Cyrus's bathhouse. Tucked in his arm he carried salted lamb ribs, something even Holo adored. It was in thanks for earlier that day, as well as a way to secure liquor that could placate Holo. And since Cyrus's hobby was making alcohol, he might know the whereabouts of good water that could be used in medicine.
It was late in the afternoon, and once the sun dipped behind the mountains, darkness quickly fell over the village. This was when Nyohhira became like a flame that refused to go out when softly placed in water. Usually, the evening was the busiest time of day with preparations for dinner parties, but there were no guests during this season.
When Lawrence reached the bathhouse, Cyrus's sons sat opposite each other at the long table. They looked to be learning how to use an abacus made of wooden balls and sticks.
The moment Myuri's childhood friend, Kalm, noticed Lawrence's arrival, he instantly straightened his back and forced a tense smile. He probably had trouble deciding whether to smile amicably at the father of the girl he wanted to marry or to show a manly expression.
Lawrence smiled soothingly, and it seemed some of Kalm's tension dissipated.
"Is Cyrus around?"
"Y-yes, my father is in the back with the firewood."
"Thanks," Lawrence said and added, "Study hard."
"Yes!" Kalm responded in a strong voice and nudged his little brother, who just stared blankly at what was happening.
Like his son had said, Cyrus was in the back, taking a break with ax in hand. Exertion rose as steam from his shirtless body.
"Oh, how can I help you?"
"This is thanks for earlier."
He handed over the wrapped package he held in his arm. Cyrus took it, and his eyes widened when he checked inside.
"This is...I've gotten pretty good at business, too. Just a bit of liquor's brought some wonderful meat."
"A token of my gratitude, and an advance for a question I have, as well as for a favor I need."
Cyrus laughed, shaking his shoulders, at how nonchalant Lawrence sounded.
"Ask away. This is good meat; it'll go well with plenty of drink."
He rewrapped it before leaving to store the gift in the kitchen connected with the firewood yard, then returned and took hold of the ax.
"I hope you don't mind if we do this while I split wood."
"Of course."
Cyrus nodded. He brought the ax up and, without straining, let it drop. With a satisfying noise, the wood cleaved in two.
"I managed to get that old man to tell me what he was looking for."
Cyrus, placing the next piece of wood on the stump, directed only his eyes toward Lawrence.
"He's come far from the south, and the reason he was always so quiet was only because he didn't understand the language here."
"So how did you talk to him?"
"Liturgical script. I had to use it every once in a while when I worked as a merchant."
"...How much liquor would it take if I asked you to teach my sons?"
If he really wanted them to learn, he could ask any of their clientele. It was Cyrus's way of joking.
"Ask me any time. And our guest said that he's looking for good water."
"Good water?"
"In the south, they apparently use snow as medicine. So I wonder if it's for that."
Cyrus gazed off into the distance, but his body continued to cut wood without faltering.
"I see. A spring of miracles that gives long life and cures sickness is a common myth."
"Do you know anything about good water that could awaken even the dead?"
"Yes. You drank some today, Mr. Lawrence."
"Do you use it for your liquor?"
"I do. Water from the river is enough for most customers, and the melted snow that tastes like sulfur is fine for the drunks. But for guests who have refined tastes, there's a certain kind of water I use for their liquor. Or for the high-class guests that pay in gold."
"Could you tell me?"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The problem was, Lawrence rolled up that so-called godlike presence earlier and abandoned her on the bed.
If he went to her empty-handed, he would likely receive nothing but snide remarks. Putting on a fur coat, he first made his way to Cyrus's bathhouse. Tucked in his arm he carried salted lamb ribs, something even Holo adored. It was in thanks for earlier that day, as well as a way to secure liquor that could placate Holo. And since Cyrus's hobby was making alcohol, he might know the whereabouts of good water that could be used in medicine.
It was late in the afternoon, and once the sun dipped behind the mountains, darkness quickly fell over the village. This was when Nyohhira became like a flame that refused to go out when softly placed in water. Usually, the evening was the busiest time of day with preparations for dinner parties, but there were no guests during this season.
When Lawrence reached the bathhouse, Cyrus's sons sat opposite each other at the long table. They looked to be learning how to use an abacus made of wooden balls and sticks.
The moment Myuri's childhood friend, Kalm, noticed Lawrence's arrival, he instantly straightened his back and forced a tense smile. He probably had trouble deciding whether to smile amicably at the father of the girl he wanted to marry or to show a manly expression.
Lawrence smiled soothingly, and it seemed some of Kalm's tension dissipated.
"Is Cyrus around?"
"Y-yes, my father is in the back with the firewood."
"Thanks," Lawrence said and added, "Study hard."
"Yes!" Kalm responded in a strong voice and nudged his little brother, who just stared blankly at what was happening.
Like his son had said, Cyrus was in the back, taking a break with ax in hand. Exertion rose as steam from his shirtless body.
"Oh, how can I help you?"
"This is thanks for earlier."
He handed over the wrapped package he held in his arm. Cyrus took it, and his eyes widened when he checked inside.
"This is...I've gotten pretty good at business, too. Just a bit of liquor's brought some wonderful meat."
"A token of my gratitude, and an advance for a question I have, as well as for a favor I need."
Cyrus laughed, shaking his shoulders, at how nonchalant Lawrence sounded.
"Ask away. This is good meat; it'll go well with plenty of drink."
He rewrapped it before leaving to store the gift in the kitchen connected with the firewood yard, then returned and took hold of the ax.
"I hope you don't mind if we do this while I split wood."
"Of course."
Cyrus nodded. He brought the ax up and, without straining, let it drop. With a satisfying noise, the wood cleaved in two.
"I managed to get that old man to tell me what he was looking for."
Cyrus, placing the next piece of wood on the stump, directed only his eyes toward Lawrence.
"He's come far from the south, and the reason he was always so quiet was only because he didn't understand the language here."
"So how did you talk to him?"
"Liturgical script. I had to use it every once in a while when I worked as a merchant."
"...How much liquor would it take if I asked you to teach my sons?"
If he really wanted them to learn, he could ask any of their clientele. It was Cyrus's way of joking.
"Ask me any time. And our guest said that he's looking for good water."
"Good water?"
"In the south, they apparently use snow as medicine. So I wonder if it's for that."
Cyrus gazed off into the distance, but his body continued to cut wood without faltering.
"I see. A spring of miracles that gives long life and cures sickness is a common myth."
"Do you know anything about good water that could awaken even the dead?"
"Yes. You drank some today, Mr. Lawrence."
"Do you use it for your liquor?"
"I do. Water from the river is enough for most customers, and the melted snow that tastes like sulfur is fine for the drunks. But for guests who have refined tastes, there's a certain kind of water I use for their liquor. Or for the high-class guests that pay in gold."
"Could you tell me?"
| But if the secret to his signature liquor's taste was in the water, it was likely he had no inclination to tell others.
"I know that's what you're thinking."
Cyrus said the exact words that Lawrence was thinking and smiled.
"It's not a secret. If you go north on a path the hunters call the Gray Wolf Road, you'll run into a deep valley. If you go in until your body barely fits, you'll find a spring that doesn't freeze no matter how cold it is. The water there is exquisite."
"Oh...Th-thank you."
He had told him so easily that Lawrence suddenly felt deflated. When he thanked him, Cyrus shrugged his rough shoulders.
"Everyone in the village knows about it."
For a moment, Lawrence felt as though a line had been drawn between them.
But he trusted the man in front of him, and it could be interpreted as though Cyrus was telling him, It's about time you knew, too, Lawrence.
"I will pay you back for this."
"You already have."
Cyrus smiled and returned to his firewood. Lawrence wanted to thank him again, out of habit as a businessperson, but he resisted. If they were friends, then it would be rude instead.
"On your way out, tell Kalm which liquor you like and take it. You went home drunk, so I bet your cute wife was pretty mad at you."
"...That's rather accurate."
"Everyone's the same."
Cyrus smiled, and Lawrence sighed in defeat.
"See you later."
"Bye."
Cyrus did not watch him go. Lawrence turned on his heel, returned to the front, and collected the liquor.
He looked back when Cyrus's place had grown distant, and lingering there in the growing darkness was a beautiful bathhouse.
Lawrence gave Holo the liquor he received from Cyrus, and once she finally regained her good mood, he asked about the water again. He also asked Hanna, who often ventured out on the mountain to gather vegetables, and she also indicated the place Cyrus mentioned was the best.
Holo nipped at him, hinting that there was no need to get liquor from Cyrus if that was the case. But if she was in a better mood, then that was good enough reason for Lawrence.
The old man, with whom Lawrence could finally communicate through liturgical script, introduced himself as Ceres. Though, it was likely not his real name, because he had been entrusted with a secret mission from his master, but it mattered not.
Since there were no other guests besides Ceres, and it was rather quiet in the bathhouse, Lawrence invited him to eat dinner with them, and he gladly accepted. His usually grumpy expression seemed to be his natural one. He complimented the food precisely and only slightly, and he seemed to narrow his eyes in enjoyment when he saw Lawrence cautioning Holo about showing her large appetite to a guest. It was embarrassing, being watched as though they were his bantering grandchildren, but if Ceres was having fun, then Lawrence should, as a bathhouse master, give over and let him smile.
The next day, Lawrence offered to help with collecting the water, but Ceres slowly shook his head. All he asked for was an earthen jug to draw the water with. He said it was his job. The pride he held in carrying out his work seemed to be like that of a knight.
Lawrence told him where the Gray Wolf Road and the marker for its entrance were and saw him off with Hanna before daybreak. Holo was fast asleep in bed, unwilling to go out in the cold.
As he departed, Ceres seemed glum as always; looking at him from behind, it seemed that his steps had a new lightness to them, though.
Lawrence sighed in content, relieved that all was finally settled.
Then, after a quick nap and working hard on his daily duties, morning became afternoon.
Ceres returned, his expression dejected.
"You didn't get the water?"
According to Cyrus, it would not freeze no matter how cold it became, but it was impossible to tell what would happen in the mountains. Thinking this, Lawrence had posed his question, but Ceres slowly shook his head. He was likely expressing his disappointment rather than a lack of understanding.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But if the secret to his signature liquor's taste was in the water, it was likely he had no inclination to tell others.
"I know that's what you're thinking."
Cyrus said the exact words that Lawrence was thinking and smiled.
"It's not a secret. If you go north on a path the hunters call the Gray Wolf Road, you'll run into a deep valley. If you go in until your body barely fits, you'll find a spring that doesn't freeze no matter how cold it is. The water there is exquisite."
"Oh...Th-thank you."
He had told him so easily that Lawrence suddenly felt deflated. When he thanked him, Cyrus shrugged his rough shoulders.
"Everyone in the village knows about it."
For a moment, Lawrence felt as though a line had been drawn between them.
But he trusted the man in front of him, and it could be interpreted as though Cyrus was telling him, It's about time you knew, too, Lawrence.
"I will pay you back for this."
"You already have."
Cyrus smiled and returned to his firewood. Lawrence wanted to thank him again, out of habit as a businessperson, but he resisted. If they were friends, then it would be rude instead.
"On your way out, tell Kalm which liquor you like and take it. You went home drunk, so I bet your cute wife was pretty mad at you."
"...That's rather accurate."
"Everyone's the same."
Cyrus smiled, and Lawrence sighed in defeat.
"See you later."
"Bye."
Cyrus did not watch him go. Lawrence turned on his heel, returned to the front, and collected the liquor.
He looked back when Cyrus's place had grown distant, and lingering there in the growing darkness was a beautiful bathhouse.
Lawrence gave Holo the liquor he received from Cyrus, and once she finally regained her good mood, he asked about the water again. He also asked Hanna, who often ventured out on the mountain to gather vegetables, and she also indicated the place Cyrus mentioned was the best.
Holo nipped at him, hinting that there was no need to get liquor from Cyrus if that was the case. But if she was in a better mood, then that was good enough reason for Lawrence.
The old man, with whom Lawrence could finally communicate through liturgical script, introduced himself as Ceres. Though, it was likely not his real name, because he had been entrusted with a secret mission from his master, but it mattered not.
Since there were no other guests besides Ceres, and it was rather quiet in the bathhouse, Lawrence invited him to eat dinner with them, and he gladly accepted. His usually grumpy expression seemed to be his natural one. He complimented the food precisely and only slightly, and he seemed to narrow his eyes in enjoyment when he saw Lawrence cautioning Holo about showing her large appetite to a guest. It was embarrassing, being watched as though they were his bantering grandchildren, but if Ceres was having fun, then Lawrence should, as a bathhouse master, give over and let him smile.
The next day, Lawrence offered to help with collecting the water, but Ceres slowly shook his head. All he asked for was an earthen jug to draw the water with. He said it was his job. The pride he held in carrying out his work seemed to be like that of a knight.
Lawrence told him where the Gray Wolf Road and the marker for its entrance were and saw him off with Hanna before daybreak. Holo was fast asleep in bed, unwilling to go out in the cold.
As he departed, Ceres seemed glum as always; looking at him from behind, it seemed that his steps had a new lightness to them, though.
Lawrence sighed in content, relieved that all was finally settled.
Then, after a quick nap and working hard on his daily duties, morning became afternoon.
Ceres returned, his expression dejected.
"You didn't get the water?"
According to Cyrus, it would not freeze no matter how cold it became, but it was impossible to tell what would happen in the mountains. Thinking this, Lawrence had posed his question, but Ceres slowly shook his head. He was likely expressing his disappointment rather than a lack of understanding.
| As Lawrence fed firewood to the hearth and stove, Ceres stood nearby, staring into the ceramic jug he cradled. It was a brooding, sad look.
"Here."
Lawrence gestured to the fire, and Ceres reluctantly complied. He respectfully received the jug and handed it to Holo, who was watching quietly. Then Lawrence helped with drying Ceres's wet clothes.
When that was mostly finished, he handed Ceres some mulled wine. In the dining hall next door, he whispered to Holo.
"This isn't it?"
Holo sniffed the inside of the jug and tilted her head in puzzlement.
"'Tis it."
With a wolf's sense of smell, she could discern the smell of that superior water.
But if that were so, why did Ceres seem as crestfallen as he did? Lawrence thought about it, and it suddenly bothered him. Why was this water not what he wanted? Conversely, what qualities did the water need to satisfy his search?
"Hey, does a spring of miracles really exist?" Lawrence asked suddenly, and Holo looked at him blankly. "You know, like water of youth, or water of healing, something like that," he explained, and she finally nodded.
"I, too, know of such myths. You have eaten the bread of the wheat from Pasloe, where I slept, aye?"
That was where Holo, in a strong sense of obligation, watched over the growing wheat for hundreds of years. Years before, Lawrence passed by the village occasionally on his trade route.
He looked at her, puzzled, and she smiled mischievously.
"Then you have eaten bread blessed by my miracles, though your foolishness was not cured."
***
Lawrence sighed, and Holo cackled. But he understood easily.
"If so..."
What was Ceres really looking for in the water? Or did he really believe the myths and think he would know immediately if he should drink it? Here he stood in front of what everyone in town lauded as the best water in Nyohhira, and he was perturbed.
Then, Ceres suddenly appeared, his mouth drawn taut.
"Oh, hello...This?"
It seemed he wanted the ceramic jug. Lawrence of course handed it over without a qualm.
Then Ceres put his lips to the container's mouth and heavily gulped down some of the contents. He closed his eyes, swallowing it.
He opened them after a few moments, and his expression was still that of disappointment.
"Good..."
With strange pronunciation, he spoke.
"Good..."
He said it again and shook his head. Lawrence and Holo looked at each other, and then he looked at Ceres. He gave a big sigh and placed the jug on the long table.
"No."
They were clear words of denial. Before Lawrence could say anything, Ceres turned on his heels. Lawrence thought if he could ask what was wrong with it, then they might find a way to a solution.
Or perhaps he had to tell Ceres that what he was looking for in the water was nothing but a myth.
As Lawrence was thinking this, Ceres reached out to the thing that sat next to the hearth.
"...His hat?"
What Holo was talking about was his conical hat, covered in fur and lined with metal. But Ceres flipped it over and pulled on a string inside it, removing the wet fur on the outside.
"It's a pot," Lawrence suddenly realized.
With it, Ceres took out a few small packages from his rucksack. There came a grainy sound, and when Lawrence looked at Holo standing next to him, she shrugged.
"Alcohol."
Ceres spoke up, and Lawrence, suddenly snapping back to reality, hurriedly tried to make his way over to the kitchen. Ceres stopped him.
"No. Alcohol."
Ceres shook his head and repeated his words again. There were hemp bags in the pot he was holding.
Lawrence recalled what Holo had said yesterday. These were things he carried on his person.
What was inside the bags was wheat. If so, then the pot he brought...
"You're...a brewer."
Ceres, not understanding Lawrence's words, furrowed his brow and once more said, "Alcohol."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | As Lawrence fed firewood to the hearth and stove, Ceres stood nearby, staring into the ceramic jug he cradled. It was a brooding, sad look.
"Here."
Lawrence gestured to the fire, and Ceres reluctantly complied. He respectfully received the jug and handed it to Holo, who was watching quietly. Then Lawrence helped with drying Ceres's wet clothes.
When that was mostly finished, he handed Ceres some mulled wine. In the dining hall next door, he whispered to Holo.
"This isn't it?"
Holo sniffed the inside of the jug and tilted her head in puzzlement.
"'Tis it."
With a wolf's sense of smell, she could discern the smell of that superior water.
But if that were so, why did Ceres seem as crestfallen as he did? Lawrence thought about it, and it suddenly bothered him. Why was this water not what he wanted? Conversely, what qualities did the water need to satisfy his search?
"Hey, does a spring of miracles really exist?" Lawrence asked suddenly, and Holo looked at him blankly. "You know, like water of youth, or water of healing, something like that," he explained, and she finally nodded.
"I, too, know of such myths. You have eaten the bread of the wheat from Pasloe, where I slept, aye?"
That was where Holo, in a strong sense of obligation, watched over the growing wheat for hundreds of years. Years before, Lawrence passed by the village occasionally on his trade route.
He looked at her, puzzled, and she smiled mischievously.
"Then you have eaten bread blessed by my miracles, though your foolishness was not cured."
***
Lawrence sighed, and Holo cackled. But he understood easily.
"If so..."
What was Ceres really looking for in the water? Or did he really believe the myths and think he would know immediately if he should drink it? Here he stood in front of what everyone in town lauded as the best water in Nyohhira, and he was perturbed.
Then, Ceres suddenly appeared, his mouth drawn taut.
"Oh, hello...This?"
It seemed he wanted the ceramic jug. Lawrence of course handed it over without a qualm.
Then Ceres put his lips to the container's mouth and heavily gulped down some of the contents. He closed his eyes, swallowing it.
He opened them after a few moments, and his expression was still that of disappointment.
"Good..."
With strange pronunciation, he spoke.
"Good..."
He said it again and shook his head. Lawrence and Holo looked at each other, and then he looked at Ceres. He gave a big sigh and placed the jug on the long table.
"No."
They were clear words of denial. Before Lawrence could say anything, Ceres turned on his heels. Lawrence thought if he could ask what was wrong with it, then they might find a way to a solution.
Or perhaps he had to tell Ceres that what he was looking for in the water was nothing but a myth.
As Lawrence was thinking this, Ceres reached out to the thing that sat next to the hearth.
"...His hat?"
What Holo was talking about was his conical hat, covered in fur and lined with metal. But Ceres flipped it over and pulled on a string inside it, removing the wet fur on the outside.
"It's a pot," Lawrence suddenly realized.
With it, Ceres took out a few small packages from his rucksack. There came a grainy sound, and when Lawrence looked at Holo standing next to him, she shrugged.
"Alcohol."
Ceres spoke up, and Lawrence, suddenly snapping back to reality, hurriedly tried to make his way over to the kitchen. Ceres stopped him.
"No. Alcohol."
Ceres shook his head and repeated his words again. There were hemp bags in the pot he was holding.
Lawrence recalled what Holo had said yesterday. These were things he carried on his person.
What was inside the bags was wheat. If so, then the pot he brought...
"You're...a brewer."
Ceres, not understanding Lawrence's words, furrowed his brow and once more said, "Alcohol."
| "Oh, 'tis local wheat."
Holo identified it just by looking.
Ceres boiled the water in the first vessel, occasionally stirring it. Steam billowed, but just as it seemed to start bubbling, he removed that pot from the flame. Retrieving a wooden ladle from his rucksack, he mixed the water into the wheat. This continued until all of the water in the pot had been shifted over. In the end, he checked the temperature with his finger, adjusted the pot's position on the fire pit, and flipped over the now-empty water pot for use as a lid.
It seemed the first step was finished.
Ceres faced Lawrence and indicated he needed a pen and paper.
"I am a chef employed by a certain country's royal family."
Ceres first wrote this and paused. Lawrence was not surprised to read "royal family" since he had paid so well and how freely he used liturgical script, which indicated a well-to-do upbringing. A regular brewer would not be the same.
"However, I originally worked for the princess's family, and I was placed where I presently am as a part of her dowry."
He wrote and suddenly took the pot in hand and closed his eyes, as if checking for something.
Then, he stuck his fingers directly into the hearth's coals and adjusted the flame. He did not seem at all bothered by the heat, and it appeared he was not burnt. The hands of a master craftsman are thick, or so the saying went. That seemed to be exactly the case here.
"When the princess learned she would marry, she indulged her selfishness only once. She said she wished to soak in the famous waters of Nyohhira. If she did, she said, she would be able to overcome anything."
Those events had happened during a time more unstable than now. Lawrence nodded, and Ceres slowly closed his eyes. When he did, it seemed as though he could still hear the turmoil.
"She hid her origins and put up at an inn, while I accompanied her as her servant. She had a wonderful time and spent her days in what might have been her last moments of freedom, as well as preparing herself for the future."
For those who held high social status, bloodlines were nothing but a tool. Lawrence translated every detail for Holo, who made a sympathetic, glum face.
"However, the princess happened upon a young man there. He, too, was of noble lineage and they recognized one another's identities immediately, so we could not outright ignore him. While I looked on in amazement, the two became close."
As Lawrence conveyed this to Holo, her face darkened even more. With a saddened expression, she drew close to him and clung to his arm. It seemed as though she was praying, I hope this will have a happy ending.
"The princess was a noblewoman that quite gracefully maintained court etiquette, but in Nyohhira, she was simply herself. She held her liquor well so she did nothing but drink and dance, so much that the young man finally admitted defeat."
Holo was happy, moved by a woman who loved to drink and dance.
"But the fun days soon passed, and the princess was not so weak as to make a mistake and give into a passing temptation. When the time came, she quietly gathered her things, and said good-bye to the man she had danced with, with a single handshake."
He straightened his back but did not smile, as though imagining a strong princess who put on a brave front. Still clinging to Lawrence's arm, Holo stared intensely at Ceres's writing, even though there was no way she could have understood it.
"On the way home, the princess spoke not even once. When she finally did, it was the day of the wedding, when her life in a strange land, in a strange castle, with strange people began. I had not known how anxious she was. She was strong. She did, however, say one thing to me, who had accompanied her from her homeland. 'Do you remember the taste of the liquor there?' she asked. I, of course, could not dishonor the princess. I told her, 'I am a chef that has mastered the food of the court, and on my pride, I do remember.'"
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Oh, 'tis local wheat."
Holo identified it just by looking.
Ceres boiled the water in the first vessel, occasionally stirring it. Steam billowed, but just as it seemed to start bubbling, he removed that pot from the flame. Retrieving a wooden ladle from his rucksack, he mixed the water into the wheat. This continued until all of the water in the pot had been shifted over. In the end, he checked the temperature with his finger, adjusted the pot's position on the fire pit, and flipped over the now-empty water pot for use as a lid.
It seemed the first step was finished.
Ceres faced Lawrence and indicated he needed a pen and paper.
"I am a chef employed by a certain country's royal family."
Ceres first wrote this and paused. Lawrence was not surprised to read "royal family" since he had paid so well and how freely he used liturgical script, which indicated a well-to-do upbringing. A regular brewer would not be the same.
"However, I originally worked for the princess's family, and I was placed where I presently am as a part of her dowry."
He wrote and suddenly took the pot in hand and closed his eyes, as if checking for something.
Then, he stuck his fingers directly into the hearth's coals and adjusted the flame. He did not seem at all bothered by the heat, and it appeared he was not burnt. The hands of a master craftsman are thick, or so the saying went. That seemed to be exactly the case here.
"When the princess learned she would marry, she indulged her selfishness only once. She said she wished to soak in the famous waters of Nyohhira. If she did, she said, she would be able to overcome anything."
Those events had happened during a time more unstable than now. Lawrence nodded, and Ceres slowly closed his eyes. When he did, it seemed as though he could still hear the turmoil.
"She hid her origins and put up at an inn, while I accompanied her as her servant. She had a wonderful time and spent her days in what might have been her last moments of freedom, as well as preparing herself for the future."
For those who held high social status, bloodlines were nothing but a tool. Lawrence translated every detail for Holo, who made a sympathetic, glum face.
"However, the princess happened upon a young man there. He, too, was of noble lineage and they recognized one another's identities immediately, so we could not outright ignore him. While I looked on in amazement, the two became close."
As Lawrence conveyed this to Holo, her face darkened even more. With a saddened expression, she drew close to him and clung to his arm. It seemed as though she was praying, I hope this will have a happy ending.
"The princess was a noblewoman that quite gracefully maintained court etiquette, but in Nyohhira, she was simply herself. She held her liquor well so she did nothing but drink and dance, so much that the young man finally admitted defeat."
Holo was happy, moved by a woman who loved to drink and dance.
"But the fun days soon passed, and the princess was not so weak as to make a mistake and give into a passing temptation. When the time came, she quietly gathered her things, and said good-bye to the man she had danced with, with a single handshake."
He straightened his back but did not smile, as though imagining a strong princess who put on a brave front. Still clinging to Lawrence's arm, Holo stared intensely at Ceres's writing, even though there was no way she could have understood it.
"On the way home, the princess spoke not even once. When she finally did, it was the day of the wedding, when her life in a strange land, in a strange castle, with strange people began. I had not known how anxious she was. She was strong. She did, however, say one thing to me, who had accompanied her from her homeland. 'Do you remember the taste of the liquor there?' she asked. I, of course, could not dishonor the princess. I told her, 'I am a chef that has mastered the food of the court, and on my pride, I do remember.'"
| "Then she said, 'It's all right, then. If I can drink that anytime, it'll be all right.'"
The old man's hand stopped, but he did not look up from the paper. The only sound in the room was the crack, crack of the burning coal in the sunken hearth.
The rustling sound of clothes was Holo, leaning forward.
"So...Was there a familiar face where she was sent to marry? No?"
It was common for nobility to not know the face of the person they were promised to in political marriages. Since that was expected, it was easy to imagine stories. Though it was to be a calculated marriage, they both already knew and grew attracted to each other in a place where they did not know their identities. It was a popular fantasy among the village girls.
And of course, Ceres was already well aware. Though he did not entirely understand Holo's words, he slowly shook his head.
Holo inhaled sharply. Lawrence wrapped his arm around Holo's small back.
"The king was a wonderful man, twelve years her senior. He took good care of her. They were blessed with children, and I'd never seen such a happy court before."
Ceres looked at Holo and gave her a little smile.
Holo, knowing she had been fooled, for some reason hit Lawrence's arm. He could tell that she seemed genuinely relieved. Ceres was excellent at telling stories. He likely told this one to his own grandchildren as well.
But there, he stopped writing.
There was one difference between stories and reality—reality did not stop there.
"The princess did not ask for that liquor once. There was no need. However, the king has taken ill, becoming bedridden for a long while, and she suddenly called upon me. She told me to fetch that liquor."
It was likely not for her own sake, but for the king that was pained in sickness and did not have much time left.
The kings of old colored their lives with battle and politics. The luxury of leisurely soaking in a hot spring was for nothing higher than the caged daughters of nobility.
He recalled Ceres's gloomy expression.
A chef's trade had the sole purpose of making people happy. In Ceres's professional life, this was likely his last and most important job.
"But you can't re-create the taste?" Lawrence asked as he wrote the same. Ceres dropped his shoulders and nodded.
"I have tried several different methods of brewing with local wheat already. I remember the taste, the ingredients, everything. But I cannot re-create it. The ale I was treated to here was so pure. I can tell the result of the brew if I know the taste of the water. Otherwise, I thought, as I went from house to house."
"Otherwise?"
Lawrence's question appeared on his face, and Ceres looked back at him before looking at Holo, for some reason.
His eyes squinted slowly, as though he was calmly smiling.
"They say the air of the land seeps into the drink at the time of the brewing. A dreary air produces a dreary brew. A cheerful air produces a cheerful brew. That is why I thought this could be the place."
After writing the last letter, he gave a meaningful smile. Holo cocked her head in confusion, but Lawrence cleared his throat in embarrassment. Earlier, he had seen them napping together by the hearth, and even now, Holo stuck to his side like a little girl.
Lawrence, by any means, had no courage to say that his own bathhouse was the best in Nyohhira, but he could say that it was different. Cyrus, too, had said such a thing to him earlier that day.
Lawrence and Holo, as husband and wife, definitely got along best in the whole village.
Lawrence, too, had heard of such a brewer's superstition, but he did not believe it. Ceres was likely the same. He was just searching desperately for some sort of clue.
"The water here is good. That is true for every house here. Since it is the same water they use to brew, the drink is also good. But it is an average good. That special flavor I tasted thirty years ago has not shown itself."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Then she said, 'It's all right, then. If I can drink that anytime, it'll be all right.'"
The old man's hand stopped, but he did not look up from the paper. The only sound in the room was the crack, crack of the burning coal in the sunken hearth.
The rustling sound of clothes was Holo, leaning forward.
"So...Was there a familiar face where she was sent to marry? No?"
It was common for nobility to not know the face of the person they were promised to in political marriages. Since that was expected, it was easy to imagine stories. Though it was to be a calculated marriage, they both already knew and grew attracted to each other in a place where they did not know their identities. It was a popular fantasy among the village girls.
And of course, Ceres was already well aware. Though he did not entirely understand Holo's words, he slowly shook his head.
Holo inhaled sharply. Lawrence wrapped his arm around Holo's small back.
"The king was a wonderful man, twelve years her senior. He took good care of her. They were blessed with children, and I'd never seen such a happy court before."
Ceres looked at Holo and gave her a little smile.
Holo, knowing she had been fooled, for some reason hit Lawrence's arm. He could tell that she seemed genuinely relieved. Ceres was excellent at telling stories. He likely told this one to his own grandchildren as well.
But there, he stopped writing.
There was one difference between stories and reality—reality did not stop there.
"The princess did not ask for that liquor once. There was no need. However, the king has taken ill, becoming bedridden for a long while, and she suddenly called upon me. She told me to fetch that liquor."
It was likely not for her own sake, but for the king that was pained in sickness and did not have much time left.
The kings of old colored their lives with battle and politics. The luxury of leisurely soaking in a hot spring was for nothing higher than the caged daughters of nobility.
He recalled Ceres's gloomy expression.
A chef's trade had the sole purpose of making people happy. In Ceres's professional life, this was likely his last and most important job.
"But you can't re-create the taste?" Lawrence asked as he wrote the same. Ceres dropped his shoulders and nodded.
"I have tried several different methods of brewing with local wheat already. I remember the taste, the ingredients, everything. But I cannot re-create it. The ale I was treated to here was so pure. I can tell the result of the brew if I know the taste of the water. Otherwise, I thought, as I went from house to house."
"Otherwise?"
Lawrence's question appeared on his face, and Ceres looked back at him before looking at Holo, for some reason.
His eyes squinted slowly, as though he was calmly smiling.
"They say the air of the land seeps into the drink at the time of the brewing. A dreary air produces a dreary brew. A cheerful air produces a cheerful brew. That is why I thought this could be the place."
After writing the last letter, he gave a meaningful smile. Holo cocked her head in confusion, but Lawrence cleared his throat in embarrassment. Earlier, he had seen them napping together by the hearth, and even now, Holo stuck to his side like a little girl.
Lawrence, by any means, had no courage to say that his own bathhouse was the best in Nyohhira, but he could say that it was different. Cyrus, too, had said such a thing to him earlier that day.
Lawrence and Holo, as husband and wife, definitely got along best in the whole village.
Lawrence, too, had heard of such a brewer's superstition, but he did not believe it. Ceres was likely the same. He was just searching desperately for some sort of clue.
"The water here is good. That is true for every house here. Since it is the same water they use to brew, the drink is also good. But it is an average good. That special flavor I tasted thirty years ago has not shown itself."
| "Flavor..."
Or perhaps the air of that time itself had melted into the taste.
Ceres, glum face unchanging, glared at the metal pot.
It sat there silently.
Holo had a good nose and was thus picky with taste, but she could not produce it. Hanna did not know much about making alcohol, either, so in the end, Lawrence went to Cyrus.
"The taste of the ale from thirty years ago?"
When he told him the story, Cyrus became clearly flustered.
"That's when I first came here...," he said, then closed his mouth and directed his gaze to the spot beside Lawrence.
Standing there was a visitor that came before he did.
"I was about your age then, boy."
The speaker was an elderly man who had a perfectly round head and a long, white beard that gave the impression of steam rising from the baths. He was not tall, but in old age, one could see the reminders that he had been quite stout in his younger days. His name was Jeck, and he was the now-retired, former master of the bathhouse that served the best food in all of Nyohhira.
"But ale, right? That's difficult stuff. With local wheat, if the malt roast is about the same, you won't get a difference. If he says he's mastered the food of the court, I don't think he'd get that wrong."
Without mentioning his true intentions, Ceres shared his information with Cyrus and the others.
"Does it depend on the year of the wheat?"
Cyrus asked this, and Jeck shook his head. The pair, separated in age almost as much as a father and son, were brought together by their love for making alcohol and seemed to be rather close as master and pupil.
"I don't know if the harvest is really bad, but if you add wheat grinding to the wort before it becomes alcohol, something will come of it. That's for someone with much greater skill than us."
Jeck was also mindful of Ceres; it seemed the old bathhouse owner's pride had been a bit hurt when Ceres looked unhappy about his food and drink. But when Lawrence told him that Ceres was a court chef, Jeck was shocked for another reason. For anyone who stood in the world of cooking, this man was an existence normally far beyond reach.
"He said 'special flavor.'"
"Hmm...It might be the taste of the time..."
"Isn't that a brewer's superstition?" Cyrus asked.
"Hmm? Ah, you mean how the taste changes depending on the air of the place. That is true, but—"
"Huh?!"
Lawrence and Cyrus both raised their voices at the same time, and Jeck snorted.
"But it's not about the mood of the place, which you hear often. As the weather changes, the earth does, too, and the taste of the drink can actually change, even when made from the same ingredients. I'm sure, even the spirits of drink in the heavens alter like we do when the earth changes. And that's why our guest here came back. You can get the ingredients as long as you have gold, and something will come of it. Isn't that right?"
His question was directed at Lawrence. As a former merchant, his face was known throughout this northern land in a way. Jeck smiled like a mischievous child, and Lawrence could only feel obligated.
"That's, well, yes...It will take some time, but I can get them."
"He has the skill, he has the ingredients, and he's come all the way here. If he doesn't get the flavor after brewing with all that, then what tints it is the air of time...In a word, his memories."
However, would a chef who decorated the plates of royalty forget such a taste, even if it was thirty years ago?
Neither Lawrence nor Cyrus said anything, but shared this question between them with a glance. Jeck gave an exaggerated sigh.
"You two are still kids."
He spoke frankly.
"The food you eat when you're having fun is good because of that. It's even better when you're with pleasant friends. But if you sit and eat with your wife when you're in the middle of a fight, it won't taste like anything! That's how it is."
***
The two looked down, as though apologizing for their inattentiveness, and Jeck nodded dramatically. Lawrence liked him—he reminded him of Holo.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Flavor..."
Or perhaps the air of that time itself had melted into the taste.
Ceres, glum face unchanging, glared at the metal pot.
It sat there silently.
Holo had a good nose and was thus picky with taste, but she could not produce it. Hanna did not know much about making alcohol, either, so in the end, Lawrence went to Cyrus.
"The taste of the ale from thirty years ago?"
When he told him the story, Cyrus became clearly flustered.
"That's when I first came here...," he said, then closed his mouth and directed his gaze to the spot beside Lawrence.
Standing there was a visitor that came before he did.
"I was about your age then, boy."
The speaker was an elderly man who had a perfectly round head and a long, white beard that gave the impression of steam rising from the baths. He was not tall, but in old age, one could see the reminders that he had been quite stout in his younger days. His name was Jeck, and he was the now-retired, former master of the bathhouse that served the best food in all of Nyohhira.
"But ale, right? That's difficult stuff. With local wheat, if the malt roast is about the same, you won't get a difference. If he says he's mastered the food of the court, I don't think he'd get that wrong."
Without mentioning his true intentions, Ceres shared his information with Cyrus and the others.
"Does it depend on the year of the wheat?"
Cyrus asked this, and Jeck shook his head. The pair, separated in age almost as much as a father and son, were brought together by their love for making alcohol and seemed to be rather close as master and pupil.
"I don't know if the harvest is really bad, but if you add wheat grinding to the wort before it becomes alcohol, something will come of it. That's for someone with much greater skill than us."
Jeck was also mindful of Ceres; it seemed the old bathhouse owner's pride had been a bit hurt when Ceres looked unhappy about his food and drink. But when Lawrence told him that Ceres was a court chef, Jeck was shocked for another reason. For anyone who stood in the world of cooking, this man was an existence normally far beyond reach.
"He said 'special flavor.'"
"Hmm...It might be the taste of the time..."
"Isn't that a brewer's superstition?" Cyrus asked.
"Hmm? Ah, you mean how the taste changes depending on the air of the place. That is true, but—"
"Huh?!"
Lawrence and Cyrus both raised their voices at the same time, and Jeck snorted.
"But it's not about the mood of the place, which you hear often. As the weather changes, the earth does, too, and the taste of the drink can actually change, even when made from the same ingredients. I'm sure, even the spirits of drink in the heavens alter like we do when the earth changes. And that's why our guest here came back. You can get the ingredients as long as you have gold, and something will come of it. Isn't that right?"
His question was directed at Lawrence. As a former merchant, his face was known throughout this northern land in a way. Jeck smiled like a mischievous child, and Lawrence could only feel obligated.
"That's, well, yes...It will take some time, but I can get them."
"He has the skill, he has the ingredients, and he's come all the way here. If he doesn't get the flavor after brewing with all that, then what tints it is the air of time...In a word, his memories."
However, would a chef who decorated the plates of royalty forget such a taste, even if it was thirty years ago?
Neither Lawrence nor Cyrus said anything, but shared this question between them with a glance. Jeck gave an exaggerated sigh.
"You two are still kids."
He spoke frankly.
"The food you eat when you're having fun is good because of that. It's even better when you're with pleasant friends. But if you sit and eat with your wife when you're in the middle of a fight, it won't taste like anything! That's how it is."
***
The two looked down, as though apologizing for their inattentiveness, and Jeck nodded dramatically. Lawrence liked him—he reminded him of Holo.
| "When Cyrus told me earlier about our guest, he told me what you said, Lawrence. I agree with you. I was angry—'what a stubborn customer! It's his fault!'...and such. I didn't realize steam was clouding my soul. How regrettable that is."
Jeck spoke as he took Lawrence's hand.
"You've reminded me what's important at this old age. Thank you, Lawrence."
Hearing those words was too much for Lawrence, and he was at a loss. But Jeck was not teasing him nor making a joke, it seemed. Lawrence looked back at the old man in awe, like a child.
He gripped Jeck's hand in return with natural strength.
"Heh-heh. When you first came and built your bathhouse here, I thought, look at this timid man with no spine."
Jeck smiled and spoke freely, and though Cyrus did not laugh outright in front of Lawrence, he played it off with a cough.
"Sometimes, a person never fits into the place they live. But you were meant to come here, Mr. Lawrence."
Jeck clasped his shoulder, and he felt as though something was peeling off from his stiffened face.
Lawrence's expression, now soft, showed a smile of pure happiness.
"But when I first drank the water here, I was sick all the time."
"Ha-ha-ha. That's the sulfur in the water. I had my first bath in these waters, so it's nothing to me, but Cyrus here kept his mouth closed at first, too."
"Even the water I used for bread was from the river or pure mountain water."
When he said that, Lawrence recalled the cool taste of the water that Holo gave him after he came home drunk. Water made from snow melted in the heat of the baths had that taste. That was the aroma of Nyohhira.
That is why Cyrus continued, not thinking about it.
"You can taste the hot springs in everything."
What?
They all spoke at once. Even Cyrus was surprised at his own words. The bathhouse masters, from the oldest to the newest, all looked at one another. "Impossible," was written on all of their faces.
Lawrence went back through his memories. He immediately recalled his conversations with Cyrus and Ceres.
Good liquor came from good water. But the best water that Ceres had collected from the mountain was, according to him, just good. Following that, if they only thought based on what Cyrus said, then the reason Ceres could never reach his answer was clear.
This was Nyohhira. The guests were treated with the utmost care. Grumpy but well-paying guests were given even more special attention. Lawrence offered to call in musicians and dancers just for Ceres, who paid in gold pieces. Even the bread they gave him in his lunch was of the best quality. They did all they could in their bathhouse. That was why there was something he never tasted while he was here.
It was what Cyrus said—liquor made from the least troublesome way to obtain water, the one they gave to drunks who could not tell the difference in flavors.
A simple ale made from snow that melted in the heat of the baths.
"...They do say that it is darkest underneath the candle stand."
Jeck groaned. Though there was no solid conclusion that was the answer, they felt close to touching something.
"I'm sure we can maintain Nyohhira's reputation with this," Cyrus said.
Lawrence watched the two of them, and they suddenly looked back.
"Well, what are we waiting for?! We have an unhappy guest at Lawrence's place!"
As though he was being scolded by his trade master, Lawrence jumped and hurriedly turned on his heel, soon placing his hand on the doorway. But then he realized this was not just his own accomplishment. When he thought this, he turned around to find Jeck and Cyrus smiling quietly.
"We'll be holding a commiseration party for those who could not make a guest smile. Go."
Jeck waved him off with a big smile of his own.
"We'll hear about it later."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "When Cyrus told me earlier about our guest, he told me what you said, Lawrence. I agree with you. I was angry—'what a stubborn customer! It's his fault!'...and such. I didn't realize steam was clouding my soul. How regrettable that is."
Jeck spoke as he took Lawrence's hand.
"You've reminded me what's important at this old age. Thank you, Lawrence."
Hearing those words was too much for Lawrence, and he was at a loss. But Jeck was not teasing him nor making a joke, it seemed. Lawrence looked back at the old man in awe, like a child.
He gripped Jeck's hand in return with natural strength.
"Heh-heh. When you first came and built your bathhouse here, I thought, look at this timid man with no spine."
Jeck smiled and spoke freely, and though Cyrus did not laugh outright in front of Lawrence, he played it off with a cough.
"Sometimes, a person never fits into the place they live. But you were meant to come here, Mr. Lawrence."
Jeck clasped his shoulder, and he felt as though something was peeling off from his stiffened face.
Lawrence's expression, now soft, showed a smile of pure happiness.
"But when I first drank the water here, I was sick all the time."
"Ha-ha-ha. That's the sulfur in the water. I had my first bath in these waters, so it's nothing to me, but Cyrus here kept his mouth closed at first, too."
"Even the water I used for bread was from the river or pure mountain water."
When he said that, Lawrence recalled the cool taste of the water that Holo gave him after he came home drunk. Water made from snow melted in the heat of the baths had that taste. That was the aroma of Nyohhira.
That is why Cyrus continued, not thinking about it.
"You can taste the hot springs in everything."
What?
They all spoke at once. Even Cyrus was surprised at his own words. The bathhouse masters, from the oldest to the newest, all looked at one another. "Impossible," was written on all of their faces.
Lawrence went back through his memories. He immediately recalled his conversations with Cyrus and Ceres.
Good liquor came from good water. But the best water that Ceres had collected from the mountain was, according to him, just good. Following that, if they only thought based on what Cyrus said, then the reason Ceres could never reach his answer was clear.
This was Nyohhira. The guests were treated with the utmost care. Grumpy but well-paying guests were given even more special attention. Lawrence offered to call in musicians and dancers just for Ceres, who paid in gold pieces. Even the bread they gave him in his lunch was of the best quality. They did all they could in their bathhouse. That was why there was something he never tasted while he was here.
It was what Cyrus said—liquor made from the least troublesome way to obtain water, the one they gave to drunks who could not tell the difference in flavors.
A simple ale made from snow that melted in the heat of the baths.
"...They do say that it is darkest underneath the candle stand."
Jeck groaned. Though there was no solid conclusion that was the answer, they felt close to touching something.
"I'm sure we can maintain Nyohhira's reputation with this," Cyrus said.
Lawrence watched the two of them, and they suddenly looked back.
"Well, what are we waiting for?! We have an unhappy guest at Lawrence's place!"
As though he was being scolded by his trade master, Lawrence jumped and hurriedly turned on his heel, soon placing his hand on the doorway. But then he realized this was not just his own accomplishment. When he thought this, he turned around to find Jeck and Cyrus smiling quietly.
"We'll be holding a commiseration party for those who could not make a guest smile. Go."
Jeck waved him off with a big smile of his own.
"We'll hear about it later."
| Lawrence, his chest bursting with happiness, left Cyrus's bathhouse and quickly returned to his own. Holo and Hanna, who were watching the next part of the brewing process with great interest, saw him return with curious faces.
Lawrence explained the circumstances, and Hanna, half in disbelief, brought water from snow that had been melted in the heat of the baths.
Ceres took a sip and closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh.
And when he opened his eyes, he smiled, as though the sun had finally shown its face through the clouds.
They ended up using two kinds of water in the brewing process, but the rest of the ingredients were the same. Indeed, even the brewer was the same, so the difference in taste simply depended on the water.
After a few days, the difference in the results was clear.
"I didn't know it would be so different."
Lawrence contemplated the taste of the frothy ale. He would not know the difference if it was just given to him, but side by side, he could tell. Ceres knew the difference, as he was always comparing with his memory from thirty years ago, though that was to be expected.
"With this, my final mission is complete."
After finishing the two brews, Ceres wrote this on a paper. He was getting quite old, and though they were orders from his master, this court chef was likely already no longer in charge of the kitchen if he was able to be away from the manor for so long.
"Truly, I thank you."
Ceres, the weight lifted from his shoulders, was a kind and gentle old man. Since he had found what he was looking for, there was no point in staying longer. He began to collect his luggage. Lawrence tried to offer change for the gold piece that Ceres gave him with a silver piece, but he refused.
He said it was a sign of thanks, and his expression became stubborn again.
And with the same look on his face, he wrote:
"It is payment for when I come here again, when I am retired and bored."
Ceres faced him with a smile, and there was nothing more he could say. Even if it was just his word, Lawrence wrote in large letters, "We will be waiting for you!"
Ceres nodded happily.
When they saw their guest off, carrying the liquor he made on his back, he walked with a more vigorous step than when he came, which had been only a few days prior. Like liquor, it seemed waiting a bit helped bring back the memory better.
"'Tis your age," Holo said flatly, pouring the rest of the ale that Ceres made into a cup.
"Hey, leave a little for me."
Holo pretended not to hear, deliberately drinking it down and savoring the taste.
"Honestly..." He sighed, and with a big white frothy mustache under her nose on her silly face, Holo looked happy.
As he wondered why, she rested her head on his shoulder and said, "I must remember this taste."
A taste to recall this land, this moment.
"Only in moderation."
There was a hint of bitterness in Lawrence's words. He would not live the same length of time as Holo. After he died, he did not want her to suffer from it.
But that, too, was the same as ale. A drink's quality did not come from its sweetness.
"You fool."
Holo wore a troubled smile and took Lawrence's hand. When he died, instead of olive oil, he would rather this ale be used to anoint him. As he thought this, he took a drink from the cup Holo shared with him.
It was a drink from the bathhouse that conjured smiles and happiness. Indeed, perhaps it was a bit too sweet.
***
He could hear the distant sounds of woodcutting, mixed with clattering cart wheels, a mule's whinny, and voices busily calling out to one another. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt like he was in a town that was being built.
The hustle and bustle signaled that winter was finally ending.
The weather was good, and there was no wind in the calm sky. The people in this remote mountain village called Nyohhira were working hard to wash off the dirt of winter.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Lawrence, his chest bursting with happiness, left Cyrus's bathhouse and quickly returned to his own. Holo and Hanna, who were watching the next part of the brewing process with great interest, saw him return with curious faces.
Lawrence explained the circumstances, and Hanna, half in disbelief, brought water from snow that had been melted in the heat of the baths.
Ceres took a sip and closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh.
And when he opened his eyes, he smiled, as though the sun had finally shown its face through the clouds.
They ended up using two kinds of water in the brewing process, but the rest of the ingredients were the same. Indeed, even the brewer was the same, so the difference in taste simply depended on the water.
After a few days, the difference in the results was clear.
"I didn't know it would be so different."
Lawrence contemplated the taste of the frothy ale. He would not know the difference if it was just given to him, but side by side, he could tell. Ceres knew the difference, as he was always comparing with his memory from thirty years ago, though that was to be expected.
"With this, my final mission is complete."
After finishing the two brews, Ceres wrote this on a paper. He was getting quite old, and though they were orders from his master, this court chef was likely already no longer in charge of the kitchen if he was able to be away from the manor for so long.
"Truly, I thank you."
Ceres, the weight lifted from his shoulders, was a kind and gentle old man. Since he had found what he was looking for, there was no point in staying longer. He began to collect his luggage. Lawrence tried to offer change for the gold piece that Ceres gave him with a silver piece, but he refused.
He said it was a sign of thanks, and his expression became stubborn again.
And with the same look on his face, he wrote:
"It is payment for when I come here again, when I am retired and bored."
Ceres faced him with a smile, and there was nothing more he could say. Even if it was just his word, Lawrence wrote in large letters, "We will be waiting for you!"
Ceres nodded happily.
When they saw their guest off, carrying the liquor he made on his back, he walked with a more vigorous step than when he came, which had been only a few days prior. Like liquor, it seemed waiting a bit helped bring back the memory better.
"'Tis your age," Holo said flatly, pouring the rest of the ale that Ceres made into a cup.
"Hey, leave a little for me."
Holo pretended not to hear, deliberately drinking it down and savoring the taste.
"Honestly..." He sighed, and with a big white frothy mustache under her nose on her silly face, Holo looked happy.
As he wondered why, she rested her head on his shoulder and said, "I must remember this taste."
A taste to recall this land, this moment.
"Only in moderation."
There was a hint of bitterness in Lawrence's words. He would not live the same length of time as Holo. After he died, he did not want her to suffer from it.
But that, too, was the same as ale. A drink's quality did not come from its sweetness.
"You fool."
Holo wore a troubled smile and took Lawrence's hand. When he died, instead of olive oil, he would rather this ale be used to anoint him. As he thought this, he took a drink from the cup Holo shared with him.
It was a drink from the bathhouse that conjured smiles and happiness. Indeed, perhaps it was a bit too sweet.
***
He could hear the distant sounds of woodcutting, mixed with clattering cart wheels, a mule's whinny, and voices busily calling out to one another. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt like he was in a town that was being built.
The hustle and bustle signaled that winter was finally ending.
The weather was good, and there was no wind in the calm sky. The people in this remote mountain village called Nyohhira were working hard to wash off the dirt of winter.
| There was a continuous flow of people in and out of the town meeting hall, and the smell of rusted metal hung over the place. Everyone had a bag in hand and dropped them onto the long table in the room's center. After loosening the drawstrings and emptying the contents, out came a whole variety of different coins.
"All right then, Mr. Alaise, we'll take it from here."
"Thanks, Lawrence."
The bathhouse master, who had more hair in his beard than above his hairline, thanked Lawrence as he rubbed his head.
Sitting at the seat of honor, Lawrence nodded with a smile as his hands blackened with work. Or more accurately, he was so busy that the smile was plastered to his face and he could not take it off. That was because one after the other, the masters from the different bathhouses arrived with the coins that guests had paid them over the winter.
He sorted the coins—typically there were five to seven kinds, and at most between ten to twenty or more—then had to count each, and then weigh them if the situation called for it. That was because a guest with too much time on his or her hands might have carefully whittled away at the coins to pilfer the silver and bronze shavings. The money changer would buy the same amount of coins for less if the weight did not add up properly. Lawrence had been at it since morning.
The hot spring village, Nyohhira, was located on the frontiers of frontiers in the middle of nowhere. The various currencies that passed between various peoples often ended their long journeys here. So twice a year, the inhabitants brought the coins they collected from guest payments to a bigger town that needed them. There they bought the materials they needed for the new season, hired craftsmen to repair the bathhouses, and left the rest of the money with the money changer. They would not gain anything from hoarding coins in boxes that had gone moldy from the steam, and they did not know what sort of thieves they would attract if news spread about treasure holed up in the mountains.
The bathhouse masters did this work every year in rotation, and this year it was the master of Spice and Wolf—Lawrence's turn. It had been ten-odd years since they opened in Nyohhira and he had spent many years on the other side of the table asking for assistance, but he never thought this job would be so hectic.
"Mr. Lawrence, the goods from Alvo are here!"
Though counting coins already took considerable concentration, that was not his only job.
"Tell Mr. Dabon, and put it in the shed!"
Nyohhira was a small village deep in the mountains, but there were people that lived even deeper in the wilderness, scattered about in even smaller communities. It was around this time of year that they came to call on Nyohhira, when they could finally take the thawed mountain paths. These people brought the hemp and twine they had made during the winter or carried a heap of furs on their backs and traded them with the things they could only get in a village, like alcohol, food, and metal goods. The people of Nyohhira took more than half of these products for themselves, and the rest they took down to the towns with the money to sell.
It was around this time that Nyohhira transformed from a village of healing waters to a remote marketplace.
"Mr. Lawrence! The owner of Adino said he wants to change his order."
"Mr. Lawrence! Where should I store the hemp?"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
When he finally came to a good stopping point, he was left without the energy to even stand. His ears rang, and he felt as though he could still hear his name being called. Once he had been a merchant, and he should have been used to such busy exchanges. He had done business in a market so clamorous there was barely any room to stand, where he could hardly hear his own yelling voice. All that now belonged to a distant past. He certainly felt a faint nostalgia for the tumult of those times. But now, he was much too happy simply working for the village he lived in.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | There was a continuous flow of people in and out of the town meeting hall, and the smell of rusted metal hung over the place. Everyone had a bag in hand and dropped them onto the long table in the room's center. After loosening the drawstrings and emptying the contents, out came a whole variety of different coins.
"All right then, Mr. Alaise, we'll take it from here."
"Thanks, Lawrence."
The bathhouse master, who had more hair in his beard than above his hairline, thanked Lawrence as he rubbed his head.
Sitting at the seat of honor, Lawrence nodded with a smile as his hands blackened with work. Or more accurately, he was so busy that the smile was plastered to his face and he could not take it off. That was because one after the other, the masters from the different bathhouses arrived with the coins that guests had paid them over the winter.
He sorted the coins—typically there were five to seven kinds, and at most between ten to twenty or more—then had to count each, and then weigh them if the situation called for it. That was because a guest with too much time on his or her hands might have carefully whittled away at the coins to pilfer the silver and bronze shavings. The money changer would buy the same amount of coins for less if the weight did not add up properly. Lawrence had been at it since morning.
The hot spring village, Nyohhira, was located on the frontiers of frontiers in the middle of nowhere. The various currencies that passed between various peoples often ended their long journeys here. So twice a year, the inhabitants brought the coins they collected from guest payments to a bigger town that needed them. There they bought the materials they needed for the new season, hired craftsmen to repair the bathhouses, and left the rest of the money with the money changer. They would not gain anything from hoarding coins in boxes that had gone moldy from the steam, and they did not know what sort of thieves they would attract if news spread about treasure holed up in the mountains.
The bathhouse masters did this work every year in rotation, and this year it was the master of Spice and Wolf—Lawrence's turn. It had been ten-odd years since they opened in Nyohhira and he had spent many years on the other side of the table asking for assistance, but he never thought this job would be so hectic.
"Mr. Lawrence, the goods from Alvo are here!"
Though counting coins already took considerable concentration, that was not his only job.
"Tell Mr. Dabon, and put it in the shed!"
Nyohhira was a small village deep in the mountains, but there were people that lived even deeper in the wilderness, scattered about in even smaller communities. It was around this time of year that they came to call on Nyohhira, when they could finally take the thawed mountain paths. These people brought the hemp and twine they had made during the winter or carried a heap of furs on their backs and traded them with the things they could only get in a village, like alcohol, food, and metal goods. The people of Nyohhira took more than half of these products for themselves, and the rest they took down to the towns with the money to sell.
It was around this time that Nyohhira transformed from a village of healing waters to a remote marketplace.
"Mr. Lawrence! The owner of Adino said he wants to change his order."
"Mr. Lawrence! Where should I store the hemp?"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
When he finally came to a good stopping point, he was left without the energy to even stand. His ears rang, and he felt as though he could still hear his name being called. Once he had been a merchant, and he should have been used to such busy exchanges. He had done business in a market so clamorous there was barely any room to stand, where he could hardly hear his own yelling voice. All that now belonged to a distant past. He certainly felt a faint nostalgia for the tumult of those times. But now, he was much too happy simply working for the village he lived in.
| When he stood up to do just that, he could hear masters loitering outside the meeting hall entrance and their chattering voices.
"Oh, this is new."
"Mr. Lawrence? Yeah, he's inside."
"But really, you always look so young. I thought you were your daughter!"
He could hear the conversation from the partly open door, and before long, in came a familiar silhouette.
As he stood from his chair, he wore a small smile.
"Hello."
He felt all his fatigue slip away when he heard that voice. The one that peeked in through the doorway was a small girl, wearing a heavy overcoat that reached down to her ankles and a hood over her head. She held a small wine cask to her chest, and if someone who was not familiar with her saw, they would think she was a maidservant. There still was a hint of youth in the face under the hood.
But once this young girl stood in front of Lawrence, she grinned audaciously.
"You look like a sheared sheep."
Her usual barb pricked his ears. The girl standing before him was not what she appeared to be. Though she looked like a teenager on the outside, she was hiding animal ears underneath her hood, and she even had a tail growing from her back. Her true form was a centuries-old giant wolf that could devour a person whole, who lived in wheat, and—
Lawrence's vaunted wife, Holo.
"You didn't have to come get me."
Typically, it was their daughter Myuri, who looked exactly like Holo, who came for him. But Myuri had left on a journey, and they wondered which parent she took after.
"I thought you might cry had I let you return home alone," she said and pushed the cask onto him. Lawrence removed the cork, and his stomach tightened at the smell of mead that wafted from it. That was when he recalled that he had nothing to eat since morning. He filled his mouth with drink, and the unbearable sweetness soothed his tired body. Holo often talked about this and that, but she always looked out for him.
And it was likely that the lonely one was Holo. Winter was over and the guests had gone home. Col, who had supported the bathhouse for a long time, was away traveling, and to top it off, their only daughter, Myuri, had followed him. They had one strange guest after all that, but he, too, left a short while ago. It was especially cute that Holo came to see him because she could not stand being left alone in the empty bathhouse. He tightly embraced her slender body, which seemed to draw closer to him than usual.
"But 'tis quite the amount of goods in the shed next door. The coins, too, seem like a mountain of treasure."
"Oh right, you've never seen it before, huh?"
Holo almost never left the bathhouse if she did not have anything particular to do outside. For one, she did not age with time and was not human, so she tried not to be seen. There was also the simple fact that she just preferred staying at home.
"I think there's more than usual this year...Every year, I watch how the others work, but I was surprised to find out how tough this is. I was so busy working all day today. Thinking about how this will continue for a few days is a bit scary."
He gave a wry smile and had another drink, and Holo smiled again.
"What is it?"
"Heh-heh. I'm happy."
"Why?"
Holo was wagging her tail under her overcoat. Lawrence thought she was tricking him somehow, and he unwittingly checked himself.
"You are slowly being accepted as a member of this village."
Holo had lived for hundreds of years in a wheat field, watching over a town called Pasloe. She understood how much work it took for a new resident to finally fit in with the town.
Knowing that, she was happy.
"I've been working quite hard, too, you know."
With a tired look, he put on a front, though seemingly on purpose. Holo giggled and held out her hand to help him up.
"Only since you have had my help."
"I suppose so."
He took her small hand and stood up.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | When he stood up to do just that, he could hear masters loitering outside the meeting hall entrance and their chattering voices.
"Oh, this is new."
"Mr. Lawrence? Yeah, he's inside."
"But really, you always look so young. I thought you were your daughter!"
He could hear the conversation from the partly open door, and before long, in came a familiar silhouette.
As he stood from his chair, he wore a small smile.
"Hello."
He felt all his fatigue slip away when he heard that voice. The one that peeked in through the doorway was a small girl, wearing a heavy overcoat that reached down to her ankles and a hood over her head. She held a small wine cask to her chest, and if someone who was not familiar with her saw, they would think she was a maidservant. There still was a hint of youth in the face under the hood.
But once this young girl stood in front of Lawrence, she grinned audaciously.
"You look like a sheared sheep."
Her usual barb pricked his ears. The girl standing before him was not what she appeared to be. Though she looked like a teenager on the outside, she was hiding animal ears underneath her hood, and she even had a tail growing from her back. Her true form was a centuries-old giant wolf that could devour a person whole, who lived in wheat, and—
Lawrence's vaunted wife, Holo.
"You didn't have to come get me."
Typically, it was their daughter Myuri, who looked exactly like Holo, who came for him. But Myuri had left on a journey, and they wondered which parent she took after.
"I thought you might cry had I let you return home alone," she said and pushed the cask onto him. Lawrence removed the cork, and his stomach tightened at the smell of mead that wafted from it. That was when he recalled that he had nothing to eat since morning. He filled his mouth with drink, and the unbearable sweetness soothed his tired body. Holo often talked about this and that, but she always looked out for him.
And it was likely that the lonely one was Holo. Winter was over and the guests had gone home. Col, who had supported the bathhouse for a long time, was away traveling, and to top it off, their only daughter, Myuri, had followed him. They had one strange guest after all that, but he, too, left a short while ago. It was especially cute that Holo came to see him because she could not stand being left alone in the empty bathhouse. He tightly embraced her slender body, which seemed to draw closer to him than usual.
"But 'tis quite the amount of goods in the shed next door. The coins, too, seem like a mountain of treasure."
"Oh right, you've never seen it before, huh?"
Holo almost never left the bathhouse if she did not have anything particular to do outside. For one, she did not age with time and was not human, so she tried not to be seen. There was also the simple fact that she just preferred staying at home.
"I think there's more than usual this year...Every year, I watch how the others work, but I was surprised to find out how tough this is. I was so busy working all day today. Thinking about how this will continue for a few days is a bit scary."
He gave a wry smile and had another drink, and Holo smiled again.
"What is it?"
"Heh-heh. I'm happy."
"Why?"
Holo was wagging her tail under her overcoat. Lawrence thought she was tricking him somehow, and he unwittingly checked himself.
"You are slowly being accepted as a member of this village."
Holo had lived for hundreds of years in a wheat field, watching over a town called Pasloe. She understood how much work it took for a new resident to finally fit in with the town.
Knowing that, she was happy.
"I've been working quite hard, too, you know."
With a tired look, he put on a front, though seemingly on purpose. Holo giggled and held out her hand to help him up.
"Only since you have had my help."
"I suppose so."
He took her small hand and stood up.
| "But...," Lawrence murmured. "Even with what you've already done, I feel like I need more."
"Hmm?"
A reason that work was so busy today was that there were few young folk to take over the chores.
Kalm, whose father Cyrus was also a bathhouse master and rather close with Lawrence, came over to help, but even then it was hectic.
As he counted and weighed the masses of coins, he could not count how many times he wished that Col was still around, since he had set out to travel a bit earlier. He also thought about how his daughter Myuri could have taken care of collecting and sorting goods from the surrounding communities.
But the two had left on a journey together. Originally, it was just supposed to be Col, but wild-hearted Myuri apparently secreted herself into his luggage. Holo would tease Lawrence for being overly protective, but he thought it was normal to worry. And what's more, though her partner was Col, she was still traveling alone with a boy!
"If only our two younglings were still around..."
There were many meanings in the words he uttered, but she chose to interpret a good one.
"Well, you have been sagging lately. Perhaps some labor will do you good, as well."
She said this while poking his side.
He thought that the dignified look of a fat chin and a big belly suited the master of a bathhouse, but Holo was not fond of that, so he always ate and drank in moderation. The most he did to cultivate his poise as a master was grow his beard out a bit.
"That's true, but if they don't come back for the time being, today I realized it really is a problem if we don't hire more people. When the customers start coming again, there's no way I'd be able to run the bathhouse by myself." Lawrence also added, "That includes your mending and Hanna, our resident cook's work."
He had not forgotten that gratitude was the key to a happy marriage. Holo snorted, as though saying, Very well.
"Shall I suggest going down to town soon, then? You may hire anyone you need there, since 'tis full of people."
"That's true, but can I find someone that's as excellent a worker as Col?"
He sighed, and Holo gave him an exasperated look.
"Wheat does not bear its fruits immediately."
"Hmm?" He looked back at her and finally understood what she was trying to say. "Bring them up with your own hands, you mean."
"Mm. You don't know how hard I've worked."
She looked at him intently, and all he could do was smile wryly. There were definitely many parts of him that were the result of Holo's help.
"Well, you too, have become a proper male."
She looked up at him and smiled proudly.
She could say anything to him with that smile.
"But we still have you, so I can't just hire anyone."
He could feel Holo's body shrink a bit when he sighed.
It was a bit rough for Holo to live in a human village, since she was not human and did not age.
Now, the woman named Hanna, who helped out at Lawrence's bathhouse, was unaware of the full details, but they had convinced her that Holo was the incarnation of a bird or something similar. Col was genuinely a normal human, but they had traveled together in the past and knew Holo's true form. As for their daughter Myuri, it went without saying.
They needed to hire someone that would not be shaken by this fact and willing to keep the secret, or maybe someone who was not human at all.
"I can ask Millike."
That was an influential name in Svernel and, at the same time, one of the few who knew Holo's identity.
He was also not human and was a reliable person they could consult with on these problems.
"If we can't find anyone even then...it might be good if we stretch out a bit further."
"Stretch, you say?"
"Yeah. We've been holed up in the mountains for quite a while now. Even I'm surprised."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "But...," Lawrence murmured. "Even with what you've already done, I feel like I need more."
"Hmm?"
A reason that work was so busy today was that there were few young folk to take over the chores.
Kalm, whose father Cyrus was also a bathhouse master and rather close with Lawrence, came over to help, but even then it was hectic.
As he counted and weighed the masses of coins, he could not count how many times he wished that Col was still around, since he had set out to travel a bit earlier. He also thought about how his daughter Myuri could have taken care of collecting and sorting goods from the surrounding communities.
But the two had left on a journey together. Originally, it was just supposed to be Col, but wild-hearted Myuri apparently secreted herself into his luggage. Holo would tease Lawrence for being overly protective, but he thought it was normal to worry. And what's more, though her partner was Col, she was still traveling alone with a boy!
"If only our two younglings were still around..."
There were many meanings in the words he uttered, but she chose to interpret a good one.
"Well, you have been sagging lately. Perhaps some labor will do you good, as well."
She said this while poking his side.
He thought that the dignified look of a fat chin and a big belly suited the master of a bathhouse, but Holo was not fond of that, so he always ate and drank in moderation. The most he did to cultivate his poise as a master was grow his beard out a bit.
"That's true, but if they don't come back for the time being, today I realized it really is a problem if we don't hire more people. When the customers start coming again, there's no way I'd be able to run the bathhouse by myself." Lawrence also added, "That includes your mending and Hanna, our resident cook's work."
He had not forgotten that gratitude was the key to a happy marriage. Holo snorted, as though saying, Very well.
"Shall I suggest going down to town soon, then? You may hire anyone you need there, since 'tis full of people."
"That's true, but can I find someone that's as excellent a worker as Col?"
He sighed, and Holo gave him an exasperated look.
"Wheat does not bear its fruits immediately."
"Hmm?" He looked back at her and finally understood what she was trying to say. "Bring them up with your own hands, you mean."
"Mm. You don't know how hard I've worked."
She looked at him intently, and all he could do was smile wryly. There were definitely many parts of him that were the result of Holo's help.
"Well, you too, have become a proper male."
She looked up at him and smiled proudly.
She could say anything to him with that smile.
"But we still have you, so I can't just hire anyone."
He could feel Holo's body shrink a bit when he sighed.
It was a bit rough for Holo to live in a human village, since she was not human and did not age.
Now, the woman named Hanna, who helped out at Lawrence's bathhouse, was unaware of the full details, but they had convinced her that Holo was the incarnation of a bird or something similar. Col was genuinely a normal human, but they had traveled together in the past and knew Holo's true form. As for their daughter Myuri, it went without saying.
They needed to hire someone that would not be shaken by this fact and willing to keep the secret, or maybe someone who was not human at all.
"I can ask Millike."
That was an influential name in Svernel and, at the same time, one of the few who knew Holo's identity.
He was also not human and was a reliable person they could consult with on these problems.
"If we can't find anyone even then...it might be good if we stretch out a bit further."
"Stretch, you say?"
"Yeah. We've been holed up in the mountains for quite a while now. Even I'm surprised."
| But at some point, the part of him that proudly said, In return, I get to see most of the world, disappeared, and he entirely isolated himself from the world beyond the mountain.
However, he never felt trapped. Rather, he was quite happy.
"I walked around so much that you would tease me and call me a dog. But now I stay put even more than the hemp cloth in the shed."
Lawrence turned back, a short while after they had left the meeting hall, and at the bottom of the gentle slope, he could see the large building and the shed that sat next to it.
"Can you believe this? I heard that in Svernel at the foot of the mountain, hemp cloths are flying off the shelves. But some of the cloth isn't used there and instead sold in another town. They say they travel like that, down the river, before finally reaching the ocean."
"The ocean?"
On their journey over ten years ago, he had sailed the ocean with Holo, and near their travels' end, they made a side trip to the beach in summertime. Holo, hearing about the ocean, of which she had little connection to, looked off distantly.
"The world is at peace, and trade is booming. People have started thinking lugging their goods across land isn't good enough anymore, so they are building an incredible number of boats now. And apparently some hemp from our village transforms into the sails on some of those boats. And then, filled with wind, they'll face the endless ocean that I've only ever heard about in stories."
Riding on the hopes of many people, that cloth would go through endless journeys. Instead of snow as far as the eye could see, maybe it would wind up in a country where scorching sand piled high like mountains. There, the ship's hold would fill up with fragrant spices, gold, and exotic fruits before heading home. It was a risky business that could mean great riches if the traders returned safely or losing everything if something went wrong on the way.
Beyond the sky Lawrence looked up at every morning as he cleaned the front of the bathhouse, wondering how the weather would be that day, lay such a world. And now, that world rocked as it faced a new era.
Long ago, he would not be able to sit still knowing that.
"It might be good to take a whiff of adventure every once in a while."
That way, Lawrence could restore his vigor and reapply himself to work hard at running the bathhouse. It would even be perfect if he could find outstanding staff to work at the house. Lawrence merely entertained the idea, but Holo took it in a different way.
He realized this after working for a few days, when he was about to travel to Svernel.
Under the blinding sunlight, he checked to make sure he had all the cargo he needed to go to town, and confirmed with the other masters the contents of their purchases. When all the little preparations were squared away, at last he hooked the horse to the wagon when someone pulled themselves up onto the driver's perch.
Though she was supposed to stay and look after the bathhouse, there was Holo, dressed for travel.
"...What's wrong?"
His voice faltered as he asked, only because Holo, who sat on the perch, wore a terrifying expression on her face.
"Nothing." Holo responded flatly, and she stared down at him. "'Twould be a pain should a fool like you lose your way."
***
Lawrence stared back at her blankly before he realized what was going on.
Long ago, Holo left her homeland of Yoitsu and could not go home for hundreds of years. During that time, her homeland had been swallowed up by the changing era, and the ones she once called companions had vanished. To Holo, who would live hundreds of years, she could not stand the possibility of someone going off somewhere and for that to be their eternal parting.
When Lawrence thought this, he regretted his carelessness from a few days ago, suggesting they stretch and travel a bit.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | But at some point, the part of him that proudly said, In return, I get to see most of the world, disappeared, and he entirely isolated himself from the world beyond the mountain.
However, he never felt trapped. Rather, he was quite happy.
"I walked around so much that you would tease me and call me a dog. But now I stay put even more than the hemp cloth in the shed."
Lawrence turned back, a short while after they had left the meeting hall, and at the bottom of the gentle slope, he could see the large building and the shed that sat next to it.
"Can you believe this? I heard that in Svernel at the foot of the mountain, hemp cloths are flying off the shelves. But some of the cloth isn't used there and instead sold in another town. They say they travel like that, down the river, before finally reaching the ocean."
"The ocean?"
On their journey over ten years ago, he had sailed the ocean with Holo, and near their travels' end, they made a side trip to the beach in summertime. Holo, hearing about the ocean, of which she had little connection to, looked off distantly.
"The world is at peace, and trade is booming. People have started thinking lugging their goods across land isn't good enough anymore, so they are building an incredible number of boats now. And apparently some hemp from our village transforms into the sails on some of those boats. And then, filled with wind, they'll face the endless ocean that I've only ever heard about in stories."
Riding on the hopes of many people, that cloth would go through endless journeys. Instead of snow as far as the eye could see, maybe it would wind up in a country where scorching sand piled high like mountains. There, the ship's hold would fill up with fragrant spices, gold, and exotic fruits before heading home. It was a risky business that could mean great riches if the traders returned safely or losing everything if something went wrong on the way.
Beyond the sky Lawrence looked up at every morning as he cleaned the front of the bathhouse, wondering how the weather would be that day, lay such a world. And now, that world rocked as it faced a new era.
Long ago, he would not be able to sit still knowing that.
"It might be good to take a whiff of adventure every once in a while."
That way, Lawrence could restore his vigor and reapply himself to work hard at running the bathhouse. It would even be perfect if he could find outstanding staff to work at the house. Lawrence merely entertained the idea, but Holo took it in a different way.
He realized this after working for a few days, when he was about to travel to Svernel.
Under the blinding sunlight, he checked to make sure he had all the cargo he needed to go to town, and confirmed with the other masters the contents of their purchases. When all the little preparations were squared away, at last he hooked the horse to the wagon when someone pulled themselves up onto the driver's perch.
Though she was supposed to stay and look after the bathhouse, there was Holo, dressed for travel.
"...What's wrong?"
His voice faltered as he asked, only because Holo, who sat on the perch, wore a terrifying expression on her face.
"Nothing." Holo responded flatly, and she stared down at him. "'Twould be a pain should a fool like you lose your way."
***
Lawrence stared back at her blankly before he realized what was going on.
Long ago, Holo left her homeland of Yoitsu and could not go home for hundreds of years. During that time, her homeland had been swallowed up by the changing era, and the ones she once called companions had vanished. To Holo, who would live hundreds of years, she could not stand the possibility of someone going off somewhere and for that to be their eternal parting.
When Lawrence thought this, he regretted his carelessness from a few days ago, suggesting they stretch and travel a bit.
| She simply might have wanted to come along since staying behind to watch the house was surprisingly lonely.
"I, too..."
Holo spoke suddenly, as Lawrence was gathering how she felt.
"...Fancy the delicious foods in town."
She spoke with a pout on her face, so he left it at that.
He greeted the other bathhouse masters, who stared in surprise at Holo sitting on the cart, then briskly finished his preparations and led the wagon outside. Though the sunshine was like that of a spring sun, snow still lay thick around the mountains surrounding Nyohhira.
"Keep it warm for me."
He turned to Holo as he spoke, and she faced the other way, huffing. That brought back memories of old times together. It was when the wagon bed had been filled with Holo's favorite apples, so many they could not finish them all.
Lawrence jumped onto the driver's box and, in high spirits, gripped the reins.
On the road to Svernel, they had to stop and stay one night each at an inn, then a small settlement, making it roughly a three-day journey. Though it would be faster to take a boat on the river that flowed from the village outskirts, it was wise not to use it during this season. The melted snow raised the river's water level, and it was currently used to transport harvested lumber down from the mountains, so it would not be a cozy boat ride at all.
As they traveled the mountain paths, he could see the logs floating along whenever he caught a glimpse of the river beyond the trees. According to the woodcutters that came and used their baths, timber had been selling rapidly these past few years, and most, though not all, was used to make boats. And some of those boats would sail untold distances across the sea.
Lawrence was proud to think that long ago, he worked as a part of the trade network that blanketed the land. But now, he could not imagine going back to that world.
"What?"
Holo sat next to Lawrence, working hard at her mending, and noticing his gaze, she peered up.
"Oh, nothing. You look good is all."
Holo was not dressed as a traveling nun the way she had long ago. She wore a plain, wool-woven hood over her head, and from it hung her roughly braided hair. On her shoulders she wore a shawl that had the barest embroidery in the corner—she seemed proper and modest. Since she looked young, if she behaved herself, she seemed like an innocent, meek young bride.
She sat next to him, dressed like this, working on the mending, so there was no need to foul her mood.
And there was no more reason for him to go to the ends of the earth searching for treasure.
"You...hmm. 'Tis not bad."
Lawrence had not held reins in quite a while, so Holo's evaluation was quite forgiving, considering how awkwardly he managed the horse. The weather was pleasant, so she seemed to be in a good mood as well.
"And we shall see your capacity as a male once we've reached the town, aye?"
She narrowed her eyes, and her mouth twisted into a mischievous smile.
Even Lawrence knew she would say that. There was a reason they brought down the coins Nyohhira collected during the winter at this time of year.
That was because they held a big spring festival in town, so people gathered, trade bustled, and everyone soon ran out of coins. Without hard currency, they could not do business. Supplying the town at this time with coin relied on the basic concept of bringing goods to places that needed them and selling for a high price.
And at the same time, he need not ask what the wolf, the gourmet, would want in a town at the height of festivities.
"I don't mind. You can ask for whatever food you like."
"Oh?"
Lawrence spoke to Holo, who seemed surprised, not expecting him to be so generous.
"I know you're really taking our finances into consideration."
He gave her his merchant's smile, and she pulled back, glaring at him.
"You are quite sassy in old age."
"It's all thanks to the great wisewolf's discipline."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | She simply might have wanted to come along since staying behind to watch the house was surprisingly lonely.
"I, too..."
Holo spoke suddenly, as Lawrence was gathering how she felt.
"...Fancy the delicious foods in town."
She spoke with a pout on her face, so he left it at that.
He greeted the other bathhouse masters, who stared in surprise at Holo sitting on the cart, then briskly finished his preparations and led the wagon outside. Though the sunshine was like that of a spring sun, snow still lay thick around the mountains surrounding Nyohhira.
"Keep it warm for me."
He turned to Holo as he spoke, and she faced the other way, huffing. That brought back memories of old times together. It was when the wagon bed had been filled with Holo's favorite apples, so many they could not finish them all.
Lawrence jumped onto the driver's box and, in high spirits, gripped the reins.
On the road to Svernel, they had to stop and stay one night each at an inn, then a small settlement, making it roughly a three-day journey. Though it would be faster to take a boat on the river that flowed from the village outskirts, it was wise not to use it during this season. The melted snow raised the river's water level, and it was currently used to transport harvested lumber down from the mountains, so it would not be a cozy boat ride at all.
As they traveled the mountain paths, he could see the logs floating along whenever he caught a glimpse of the river beyond the trees. According to the woodcutters that came and used their baths, timber had been selling rapidly these past few years, and most, though not all, was used to make boats. And some of those boats would sail untold distances across the sea.
Lawrence was proud to think that long ago, he worked as a part of the trade network that blanketed the land. But now, he could not imagine going back to that world.
"What?"
Holo sat next to Lawrence, working hard at her mending, and noticing his gaze, she peered up.
"Oh, nothing. You look good is all."
Holo was not dressed as a traveling nun the way she had long ago. She wore a plain, wool-woven hood over her head, and from it hung her roughly braided hair. On her shoulders she wore a shawl that had the barest embroidery in the corner—she seemed proper and modest. Since she looked young, if she behaved herself, she seemed like an innocent, meek young bride.
She sat next to him, dressed like this, working on the mending, so there was no need to foul her mood.
And there was no more reason for him to go to the ends of the earth searching for treasure.
"You...hmm. 'Tis not bad."
Lawrence had not held reins in quite a while, so Holo's evaluation was quite forgiving, considering how awkwardly he managed the horse. The weather was pleasant, so she seemed to be in a good mood as well.
"And we shall see your capacity as a male once we've reached the town, aye?"
She narrowed her eyes, and her mouth twisted into a mischievous smile.
Even Lawrence knew she would say that. There was a reason they brought down the coins Nyohhira collected during the winter at this time of year.
That was because they held a big spring festival in town, so people gathered, trade bustled, and everyone soon ran out of coins. Without hard currency, they could not do business. Supplying the town at this time with coin relied on the basic concept of bringing goods to places that needed them and selling for a high price.
And at the same time, he need not ask what the wolf, the gourmet, would want in a town at the height of festivities.
"I don't mind. You can ask for whatever food you like."
"Oh?"
Lawrence spoke to Holo, who seemed surprised, not expecting him to be so generous.
"I know you're really taking our finances into consideration."
He gave her his merchant's smile, and she pulled back, glaring at him.
"You are quite sassy in old age."
"It's all thanks to the great wisewolf's discipline."
| The horse pulling the wagon swished its tail, as though telling them to take it elsewhere.
"We still have a heap of things to deal with, though. Don't be pouty if I can't entertain you in town."
"I am not unreasonable, like Myuri."
Their daughter Myuri's unreasonable nature suited her, but Lawrence believed that part of her personality came from Holo.
Lawrence looked at her with the same look as before, and she stomped on his foot again. This time, it was stronger.
"Hmph. 'Tis not even all that much. Sell the goods in the back, buy things for the village, and then look for workers."
"Just looking for workers might take a while...And there's still more."
"Hmm?"
She gazed at him doubtfully in response. She was likely checking to see if his head was filled with schemes to turn a quick profit. On their journey over ten years ago, that was often the source of all their biggest, rowdiest adventures.
"The whole town is busy preparing for the festival. It's a custom for Nyohhira to help with the preparations in exchange for the town's money changer association buying all the village's goods at once. So I'll probably be busy with that during the festival."
"Hmm."
Nyohhira was wholly reliant on Svernel for the distribution of their goods, so it was a give-and-take relationship.
"So what will you help with during the festival?"
"I don't know all the details...but I'm sure there are several jobs. I've heard that it's been quite a lively festival these past few years."
"I know that. 'Tis why I wished to see it with you..."
Holo spoke dejectedly. She was craftily letting her adorably true feelings show.
"And this time, there's one more important job."
Holo, who had her lips pursed in boredom, looked up expectantly.
"I have to find out more about the people who might be building a new hot spring town on the other side of the mountain."
That was the most shocking information that spread this winter in Nyohhira.
He knew nothing about the details, but traveling merchants told the village about this rumor.
Though it would be on the other mountainside, most roads in this area led to Svernel, so they would end up fighting over customers. And of course, they would likely get their food, drink, and other necessities from Svernel, so prices would rise accordingly.
He had to confirm whether the rumors were true or not.
"So I'm going to be very busy in town."
As Lawrence declared his intentions, Holo hunched over, resting her chin in her hand and sighing.
"At the very least, don't trip as you run around so much."
"What, you're not going to help? It might spell danger for our bathhouse and Nyohhira itself."
The villagers saw Lawrence as one of their own, since they entrusted him with bringing the coins down to town during this season, and he was so overjoyed, he became overeager. He spoke pointedly, and Holo looked at him with uncertain eyes.
"Well then, shall I discover where they are digging holes for their baths, then cover them up, burying those people with it?"
When Holo spoke, Lawrence flinched. Sitting there was the wolf's avatar, a being that held more power than humans knew.
Holo once again sighed at Lawrence's response and reached out to pinch his beard.
"You, still, cannot, forget, playing, the, merchant, prince, still? Hmm?"
"Ow, stop, ouch, hey—"
She pulled his beard, moving his face side to side.
"Hmph. Whoever they may be, we shall always be ready, making our guests happy as we always do. Should that be enough, they will come. If not, then they will go there. Is that not correct?"
She let go of his beard, and Lawrence looked at her again, rubbing his chin.
The centuries-old wisewolf had appeared.
"Well, that's true..."
"Very well, then."
Her mood completely changed, and she drew close to Lawrence.
"Once the bathhouse empties out, won't you spend more time with me? Our troublesome Myuri has left on her travels, you know."
***
There was a sweet seduction that accompanied her decadent invitation.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The horse pulling the wagon swished its tail, as though telling them to take it elsewhere.
"We still have a heap of things to deal with, though. Don't be pouty if I can't entertain you in town."
"I am not unreasonable, like Myuri."
Their daughter Myuri's unreasonable nature suited her, but Lawrence believed that part of her personality came from Holo.
Lawrence looked at her with the same look as before, and she stomped on his foot again. This time, it was stronger.
"Hmph. 'Tis not even all that much. Sell the goods in the back, buy things for the village, and then look for workers."
"Just looking for workers might take a while...And there's still more."
"Hmm?"
She gazed at him doubtfully in response. She was likely checking to see if his head was filled with schemes to turn a quick profit. On their journey over ten years ago, that was often the source of all their biggest, rowdiest adventures.
"The whole town is busy preparing for the festival. It's a custom for Nyohhira to help with the preparations in exchange for the town's money changer association buying all the village's goods at once. So I'll probably be busy with that during the festival."
"Hmm."
Nyohhira was wholly reliant on Svernel for the distribution of their goods, so it was a give-and-take relationship.
"So what will you help with during the festival?"
"I don't know all the details...but I'm sure there are several jobs. I've heard that it's been quite a lively festival these past few years."
"I know that. 'Tis why I wished to see it with you..."
Holo spoke dejectedly. She was craftily letting her adorably true feelings show.
"And this time, there's one more important job."
Holo, who had her lips pursed in boredom, looked up expectantly.
"I have to find out more about the people who might be building a new hot spring town on the other side of the mountain."
That was the most shocking information that spread this winter in Nyohhira.
He knew nothing about the details, but traveling merchants told the village about this rumor.
Though it would be on the other mountainside, most roads in this area led to Svernel, so they would end up fighting over customers. And of course, they would likely get their food, drink, and other necessities from Svernel, so prices would rise accordingly.
He had to confirm whether the rumors were true or not.
"So I'm going to be very busy in town."
As Lawrence declared his intentions, Holo hunched over, resting her chin in her hand and sighing.
"At the very least, don't trip as you run around so much."
"What, you're not going to help? It might spell danger for our bathhouse and Nyohhira itself."
The villagers saw Lawrence as one of their own, since they entrusted him with bringing the coins down to town during this season, and he was so overjoyed, he became overeager. He spoke pointedly, and Holo looked at him with uncertain eyes.
"Well then, shall I discover where they are digging holes for their baths, then cover them up, burying those people with it?"
When Holo spoke, Lawrence flinched. Sitting there was the wolf's avatar, a being that held more power than humans knew.
Holo once again sighed at Lawrence's response and reached out to pinch his beard.
"You, still, cannot, forget, playing, the, merchant, prince, still? Hmm?"
"Ow, stop, ouch, hey—"
She pulled his beard, moving his face side to side.
"Hmph. Whoever they may be, we shall always be ready, making our guests happy as we always do. Should that be enough, they will come. If not, then they will go there. Is that not correct?"
She let go of his beard, and Lawrence looked at her again, rubbing his chin.
The centuries-old wisewolf had appeared.
"Well, that's true..."
"Very well, then."
Her mood completely changed, and she drew close to Lawrence.
"Once the bathhouse empties out, won't you spend more time with me? Our troublesome Myuri has left on her travels, you know."
***
There was a sweet seduction that accompanied her decadent invitation.
| "It's not just our problem. It's the whole village's problem."
He spoke as though confirming it to himself, and Holo cackled, spotting his weak restraint.
"Well, we have no intentions to lay waste to our own territory. We shall find who it is that challenges us. That path will build competition between us."
Holo was worth the help of a hundred people.
Lawrence gently adjusted the shawl on her shoulders and said, "I'm counting on you."
In the three days it took to descend the mountain, the snow began to melt and it became much muddier. Because of that, there were many times when the wagon wheels got stuck and they were unable to move, but passing travelers helped them, and they finally made it to Svernel during an afternoon.
"Hmm...I've become a muddy rat."
Holo sat on the wagon and spoke disdainfully, examining her deerskin boots, thin wool trousers, and the woolen hem around her waist. As though she had anticipated it getting dirty, she stuffed the bushy tail growing from her behind into a special cloth bag like so many grapes.
But Lawrence, standing next to Holo—who much like a princess, tended to mind even the smallest hint of dirt on her clothes—was in a worse state. He had gotten out and pushed the wagon many times as it had floundered in the mud, so he was stained from head to toe, to the point where dried mud fell from his hair in flakes when he shook his head.
"I want to take a bath as soon as I can..."
"I, too, wish to care for my tail."
Lawrence asked himself whether he was doting on Holo a bit too much.
Then, after the soldiers guarding the city walls pitied the pair for their sorry state, they entered the town of Svernel.
There was still some snow here and there in town, and the streets were muddy. Of course, the wheels did not get stuck this time, but there were so many people and mud splashed everywhere, so everyone walking around had mud up to their knees. No one seemed to mind, since it was the time of year when there was no use worrying about it.
Holo watched all this, and her expression suggested she would not dare leave the driver's perch, as she cradled her pride, the beautiful tail stuffed in the bag.
"Okay...For now, we need to go to the money changers' association, but I hope we can get there all right."
It had been several years since he was last here, and the town had quickly developed and was rather different. Business was booming here, and Svernel grew. A new city wall encircled the old one that had protected the town when they first visited over ten years ago. And there were plans to build an even bigger wall. Gaudy mansions lined some paths, and street stalls stood packed together on the large avenues.
Lawrence had some trouble controlling the horse in the crowds, and when they finally reached the money changers' association with uneasy movements, he was covered in sweat. Holo, still on the perch, did not seem to understand why he was so sweaty as she handed him a handkerchief.
He wiped his face and did his best to at least clean off the mud from his clothes. Currency exchange was the center of the economy, and its practitioners held esteemed places in every town. The association building here, too, was an impressive five stories tall. Lawrence cleared his throat and worked up his courage, so as to not be overwhelmed by its presence, then called out through the door.
"Excuse me!"
But there was no answer, and no response even when he knocked on the door. With no other choice, he opened the door and peeked inside, when a humid heat wafted into his face. It was busier inside than the bustling streets outside, and the money changers, who all seemed to have gathered from throughout the town, were clinging to desks stuffed into the hall. They all fixed their attention on the scales, as though taking part in some sort of ritual, and were writing things down. Lawrence recognized that the hard smell was one he had just experienced a scant few days ago—the smell of many coins.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "It's not just our problem. It's the whole village's problem."
He spoke as though confirming it to himself, and Holo cackled, spotting his weak restraint.
"Well, we have no intentions to lay waste to our own territory. We shall find who it is that challenges us. That path will build competition between us."
Holo was worth the help of a hundred people.
Lawrence gently adjusted the shawl on her shoulders and said, "I'm counting on you."
In the three days it took to descend the mountain, the snow began to melt and it became much muddier. Because of that, there were many times when the wagon wheels got stuck and they were unable to move, but passing travelers helped them, and they finally made it to Svernel during an afternoon.
"Hmm...I've become a muddy rat."
Holo sat on the wagon and spoke disdainfully, examining her deerskin boots, thin wool trousers, and the woolen hem around her waist. As though she had anticipated it getting dirty, she stuffed the bushy tail growing from her behind into a special cloth bag like so many grapes.
But Lawrence, standing next to Holo—who much like a princess, tended to mind even the smallest hint of dirt on her clothes—was in a worse state. He had gotten out and pushed the wagon many times as it had floundered in the mud, so he was stained from head to toe, to the point where dried mud fell from his hair in flakes when he shook his head.
"I want to take a bath as soon as I can..."
"I, too, wish to care for my tail."
Lawrence asked himself whether he was doting on Holo a bit too much.
Then, after the soldiers guarding the city walls pitied the pair for their sorry state, they entered the town of Svernel.
There was still some snow here and there in town, and the streets were muddy. Of course, the wheels did not get stuck this time, but there were so many people and mud splashed everywhere, so everyone walking around had mud up to their knees. No one seemed to mind, since it was the time of year when there was no use worrying about it.
Holo watched all this, and her expression suggested she would not dare leave the driver's perch, as she cradled her pride, the beautiful tail stuffed in the bag.
"Okay...For now, we need to go to the money changers' association, but I hope we can get there all right."
It had been several years since he was last here, and the town had quickly developed and was rather different. Business was booming here, and Svernel grew. A new city wall encircled the old one that had protected the town when they first visited over ten years ago. And there were plans to build an even bigger wall. Gaudy mansions lined some paths, and street stalls stood packed together on the large avenues.
Lawrence had some trouble controlling the horse in the crowds, and when they finally reached the money changers' association with uneasy movements, he was covered in sweat. Holo, still on the perch, did not seem to understand why he was so sweaty as she handed him a handkerchief.
He wiped his face and did his best to at least clean off the mud from his clothes. Currency exchange was the center of the economy, and its practitioners held esteemed places in every town. The association building here, too, was an impressive five stories tall. Lawrence cleared his throat and worked up his courage, so as to not be overwhelmed by its presence, then called out through the door.
"Excuse me!"
But there was no answer, and no response even when he knocked on the door. With no other choice, he opened the door and peeked inside, when a humid heat wafted into his face. It was busier inside than the bustling streets outside, and the money changers, who all seemed to have gathered from throughout the town, were clinging to desks stuffed into the hall. They all fixed their attention on the scales, as though taking part in some sort of ritual, and were writing things down. Lawrence recognized that the hard smell was one he had just experienced a scant few days ago—the smell of many coins.
| "This isn't the inn! That's the next area over!"
The old man likely knew immediately that he was a traveler from outside the walls when he saw Lawrence's appearance.
"No, I've come from Nyohhira! I've brought goods!"
After Lawrence spoke, the atmosphere suddenly changed.
Everyone looked as though they had seen food for the first time in three days.
"Nyohhira?! He said Nyohhira!"
"The coins! Have you brought the coins?!"
"Where are they? Bring them in now! Do you have bronze jinie pieces? Give us everything you have!"
"Bring silver debau here! No, any silver piece will do! Our exchange might collapse at any moment!"
Just as he was almost swallowed up by the sea of pushy money changers, there came an iron pot's deafening clatter.
"Calm down! We will distribute coins as agreed!"
He heard the voice emanating from the farthest place inside the first-floor hall, a step above everyone else. There was a rotund, elderly money changer, who had a magnificent white beard that reached his chest.
"First, show our guest some hospitality! Our association's reputation depends on this!"
He was likely the president of their organization, and when he spoke, the ghastly money changers hesitantly returned to their places. Instead, a youth who appeared to be the chore boy approached him unsteadily. He was clearly sleep-deprived, and his fingers were coated black from handling too many coins.
He shook his head lightly, and it seemed as though numbers would fall out of his ears.
"C-come this way, please..."
He spoke uncomfortably, as though he had not spoken for a long time or he had talked too much and his voice had gone hoarse, and unsteadily led Lawrence outside. Had his breath not produced white clouds, it would have been easy to think he was dead.
The boy walked alongside the building for a bit, then used his entire weight to open a large, grated door. There, carved out from some building's first floor, was a large passageway that led to a courtyard.
Prompted by his guide, Lawrence brought in his wagon and found himself relieved by the firm sensation the stones provided under his feet. The right-hand side of the passageway connected to the hall where he encountered the busy associates from earlier, and it was evidently built for unloading goods. Since this was a place with lots of snow, it was designed so that they could receive aristocrats or exchange goods without them getting dirty here.
Before long, the door connecting to the hall opened, and out came the elderly money changer who had yelled earlier, with an attendant in tow. The boy called him "president," so he was indeed the money changers' association leader.
"Well then, apologies for earlier. Everyone's been working all day and night, and some are going crazy."
"With the town this busy, that's something I can understand."
Above them, there was an elevated footbridge, and from the dim passage he could clearly see the endless flow of jam-packed people.
No matter how many coins he tossed to them, they would swallow them right up.
"I don't mind how the town grows every year, but we can only handle so much activity. But I'm really glad you came when you did. The coins are gone from the money changer's vault—it's like a bakery without bread."
Of course, I've come aiming exactly for this time, was something he should keep quiet about to maintain their amicable relationship.
"And as with every year, you wouldn't mind if we hold on to goods besides the coins, yes?"
"Yes, I know it's such a busy time for you, but..."
"Ha-ha-ha. In return, we'll have you working hard during the festival! And this year, they've sent quite a young fellow! How reassuring!"
The president patted Lawrence's shoulders as he spoke, his hands sturdy enough to bend a thin coin. On his fingertips lay a money changer's years of experience dealing with various currencies.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "This isn't the inn! That's the next area over!"
The old man likely knew immediately that he was a traveler from outside the walls when he saw Lawrence's appearance.
"No, I've come from Nyohhira! I've brought goods!"
After Lawrence spoke, the atmosphere suddenly changed.
Everyone looked as though they had seen food for the first time in three days.
"Nyohhira?! He said Nyohhira!"
"The coins! Have you brought the coins?!"
"Where are they? Bring them in now! Do you have bronze jinie pieces? Give us everything you have!"
"Bring silver debau here! No, any silver piece will do! Our exchange might collapse at any moment!"
Just as he was almost swallowed up by the sea of pushy money changers, there came an iron pot's deafening clatter.
"Calm down! We will distribute coins as agreed!"
He heard the voice emanating from the farthest place inside the first-floor hall, a step above everyone else. There was a rotund, elderly money changer, who had a magnificent white beard that reached his chest.
"First, show our guest some hospitality! Our association's reputation depends on this!"
He was likely the president of their organization, and when he spoke, the ghastly money changers hesitantly returned to their places. Instead, a youth who appeared to be the chore boy approached him unsteadily. He was clearly sleep-deprived, and his fingers were coated black from handling too many coins.
He shook his head lightly, and it seemed as though numbers would fall out of his ears.
"C-come this way, please..."
He spoke uncomfortably, as though he had not spoken for a long time or he had talked too much and his voice had gone hoarse, and unsteadily led Lawrence outside. Had his breath not produced white clouds, it would have been easy to think he was dead.
The boy walked alongside the building for a bit, then used his entire weight to open a large, grated door. There, carved out from some building's first floor, was a large passageway that led to a courtyard.
Prompted by his guide, Lawrence brought in his wagon and found himself relieved by the firm sensation the stones provided under his feet. The right-hand side of the passageway connected to the hall where he encountered the busy associates from earlier, and it was evidently built for unloading goods. Since this was a place with lots of snow, it was designed so that they could receive aristocrats or exchange goods without them getting dirty here.
Before long, the door connecting to the hall opened, and out came the elderly money changer who had yelled earlier, with an attendant in tow. The boy called him "president," so he was indeed the money changers' association leader.
"Well then, apologies for earlier. Everyone's been working all day and night, and some are going crazy."
"With the town this busy, that's something I can understand."
Above them, there was an elevated footbridge, and from the dim passage he could clearly see the endless flow of jam-packed people.
No matter how many coins he tossed to them, they would swallow them right up.
"I don't mind how the town grows every year, but we can only handle so much activity. But I'm really glad you came when you did. The coins are gone from the money changer's vault—it's like a bakery without bread."
Of course, I've come aiming exactly for this time, was something he should keep quiet about to maintain their amicable relationship.
"And as with every year, you wouldn't mind if we hold on to goods besides the coins, yes?"
"Yes, I know it's such a busy time for you, but..."
"Ha-ha-ha. In return, we'll have you working hard during the festival! And this year, they've sent quite a young fellow! How reassuring!"
The president patted Lawrence's shoulders as he spoke, his hands sturdy enough to bend a thin coin. On his fingertips lay a money changer's years of experience dealing with various currencies.
| The president gave a loud laugh. Lawrence respectfully accepted the gracious offer.
"Tell the boy to picket the horse in the courtyard. We have a room ready for you, so feel free."
Everything had been taken care of. Though for a moment, Lawrence hesitated entering the association building with muddy shoes. Quietly peeking into the hallway, he could see a muddy dog and roaming chickens milling about, so he was relieved. Though the animals likely came in following the heat, they were also after the leftovers that the money changers left behind as they worked. When Holo passed them, the dog crouched in surprise and fluffed up his tail.
Lawrence and Holo were led to a beautiful room on the second floor. The furniture was exquisite, and the association's wealth was ostentatiously on display. Opening the wooden window and scanning the street below, he could see how tightly packed the crowds were and wondered how he managed to weave the wagon through the gaps.
It was busy, it was chaotic, and it was filled with life.
"This is going to be a fun stay," Lawrence murmured and breathed in the town air.
Lawrence received plenty of hot water for a bath, and after washing off the mud, he finally felt revived. His clothes were also muddy, but all he could do was wash his coat and dry it on the stove before he slept. For now, he brushed off what mud he could, and a nostalgic smile grew on his face.
"Is something funny?"
Holo, gazing out the window, had noticed and turned around to face him.
"Well, I remember when I was a fledgling merchant, I brushed off fleas or lice or something like this once."
Holo suddenly made a disgusted face and hid her bushy tail behind her.
"Refrain from coming near me."
"It was a long time ago."
He tried to reassure her, but Holo did not change her doubtful face and looked away in a huff.
Then, she leaned against the window frame and stared outside reproachfully.
As Lawrence thought about what an oddly bad mood she was in, she groaned.
That was when he finally realized...
"If you want to catch a rabbit, you have to stick your hand into the rabbit hole, even if it means crawling on the ground."
She wanted to go shopping among the crowded stalls, but she did not want to get muddy while doing it.
Every day, she combed out her beautiful tail, arranging how the hair lay, and oiled it to a glossy sheen.
She turned to Lawrence slowly, her reddish eyes watering, looking up toward him.
"...You want me to buy things for you? But I just cleaned myself..."
Holo's face suddenly brightened. Lawrence thought himself wretched for being so easily moved by her acting. He shook his head and steeled himself.
"You've been a bit too lazy ever since Myuri left."
The other bathhouse owners lamented that their cute wives transformed once they had children, but Holo did not change much. At best, one could say there were quite a few times where she maintained her dignity as a wolf around Myuri.
But now, even her mending was completely falling apart.
"Even though, when I first met you, you had a maiden's heart and wished to keep our relationship simple..."
His wife spoke, hugging her tail and hiding her mouth, with a sad expression on her face.
Lawrence put his hand to his forehead and covered his eyes, since her move was so effective.
It was long ago that he was afraid he would grow bored of his relationship with Holo as the months and years passed. As he got older, he felt as though he was growing more susceptible to Holo's wiles. Though his daughter Myuri was cuter, Holo was different and knew all the ways she could push him into submission.
He sighed and gazed out the window, standing next to her.
"So? Which stall do you want me to go to?"
Holo beamed and took Lawrence's arm. She wagged her tail and leaned out the window.
"Mm, there is fried lamprey, and rabbit stew, and a pie shop that uses plenty of pig fat, then, over there—"
He gazed at her from the side as she talked happily and did not bother to listen.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | The president gave a loud laugh. Lawrence respectfully accepted the gracious offer.
"Tell the boy to picket the horse in the courtyard. We have a room ready for you, so feel free."
Everything had been taken care of. Though for a moment, Lawrence hesitated entering the association building with muddy shoes. Quietly peeking into the hallway, he could see a muddy dog and roaming chickens milling about, so he was relieved. Though the animals likely came in following the heat, they were also after the leftovers that the money changers left behind as they worked. When Holo passed them, the dog crouched in surprise and fluffed up his tail.
Lawrence and Holo were led to a beautiful room on the second floor. The furniture was exquisite, and the association's wealth was ostentatiously on display. Opening the wooden window and scanning the street below, he could see how tightly packed the crowds were and wondered how he managed to weave the wagon through the gaps.
It was busy, it was chaotic, and it was filled with life.
"This is going to be a fun stay," Lawrence murmured and breathed in the town air.
Lawrence received plenty of hot water for a bath, and after washing off the mud, he finally felt revived. His clothes were also muddy, but all he could do was wash his coat and dry it on the stove before he slept. For now, he brushed off what mud he could, and a nostalgic smile grew on his face.
"Is something funny?"
Holo, gazing out the window, had noticed and turned around to face him.
"Well, I remember when I was a fledgling merchant, I brushed off fleas or lice or something like this once."
Holo suddenly made a disgusted face and hid her bushy tail behind her.
"Refrain from coming near me."
"It was a long time ago."
He tried to reassure her, but Holo did not change her doubtful face and looked away in a huff.
Then, she leaned against the window frame and stared outside reproachfully.
As Lawrence thought about what an oddly bad mood she was in, she groaned.
That was when he finally realized...
"If you want to catch a rabbit, you have to stick your hand into the rabbit hole, even if it means crawling on the ground."
She wanted to go shopping among the crowded stalls, but she did not want to get muddy while doing it.
Every day, she combed out her beautiful tail, arranging how the hair lay, and oiled it to a glossy sheen.
She turned to Lawrence slowly, her reddish eyes watering, looking up toward him.
"...You want me to buy things for you? But I just cleaned myself..."
Holo's face suddenly brightened. Lawrence thought himself wretched for being so easily moved by her acting. He shook his head and steeled himself.
"You've been a bit too lazy ever since Myuri left."
The other bathhouse owners lamented that their cute wives transformed once they had children, but Holo did not change much. At best, one could say there were quite a few times where she maintained her dignity as a wolf around Myuri.
But now, even her mending was completely falling apart.
"Even though, when I first met you, you had a maiden's heart and wished to keep our relationship simple..."
His wife spoke, hugging her tail and hiding her mouth, with a sad expression on her face.
Lawrence put his hand to his forehead and covered his eyes, since her move was so effective.
It was long ago that he was afraid he would grow bored of his relationship with Holo as the months and years passed. As he got older, he felt as though he was growing more susceptible to Holo's wiles. Though his daughter Myuri was cuter, Holo was different and knew all the ways she could push him into submission.
He sighed and gazed out the window, standing next to her.
"So? Which stall do you want me to go to?"
Holo beamed and took Lawrence's arm. She wagged her tail and leaned out the window.
"Mm, there is fried lamprey, and rabbit stew, and a pie shop that uses plenty of pig fat, then, over there—"
He gazed at her from the side as she talked happily and did not bother to listen.
| "Are you listening?!"
***
Fair words fill not the belly.
Like a trained dog, he looked to the shops that Holo pointed out and noted her orders.
Though Lawrence had many things to do in Svernel, Holo sent him on her errands. He did think it was for the best if she stayed in a good mood.
He exited their room and went down the stairs, taking the chickens that would not give way and guiding them into the hallway's corner. It was when he put his hand on the door of the passageway that led to the courtyard—
"Oh, are you going out?"
From the passage facing the workroom came the white-bearded president. He was wiping his hands with a handkerchief, so he must have been on break.
"Yes, we have not eaten yet, so I was planning on going out to buy something."
It was the courtesy for a traveler to prepare their own food when borrowing a room.
"Oh! In that case, would you like to join me? Let's send the boy to do the shopping."
Accepting offers of hospitality was courtesy as well. It would be much too brazen to order the things that Holo wished for at this point, so he remained silent. The association president seemed rather old, so it would likely end up being food that differed from Holo's preferences. He turned his thoughts to figuring out how he would convince Holo to bear with it, but his fears turned out to be groundless.
"Well then, don't hesitate and help yourselves! I'm sorry it's such a filthy place, though!"
The president led him and Holo into an inner room on the first floor, and it was likely a dining hall or meeting room for the association members most days. The room was filled with cargo, and the goods from Nyohhira were in there, too; this was just a portion of the goods that passed through the town in this season. Of course, the scale was incomparable to Nyohhira.
And atop the table was another mountain—a huge variety of oily foods.
"I'm sure you are tired from traveling during this time of year. And we want you to work hard preparing for the festival! Eat your fill as you please!"
The president's voice was rather loud. He may have been used to raising his voice in the workplace, but he was probably this energetic all the time. At any rate, there was a thick cut of smoked venison that had Holo's eyes sparkling, and she boldly stuck a knife into it and took a bite. Had Lawrence met her at an inn, he would have thought she was a bandit chief.
"Are you all right with ale to drink? We have wine, as well."
Since it was not possible to harvest grapes in cold areas, wine must have been an expensive import. Lawrence's former merchant nature kicked in and he tried to restrain Holo, but she luckily chose the cheaper ale. Of course, she was not being modest. She simply thought that ale was more suited to a table filled with greasy foods. Naturally, it did not seem as though she would restrain herself when it came to food.
"Ba-ha-ha-ha! That's a good way to eat!"
Holo garnished a boiled sausage, which was so stuffed with meat it seemed to be bursting, using plenty of mustard and bit into it. The only ones who would be complimented on their restraint would be the aristocratic ladies. Common folk had fewer standards of evaluation—eat well, drink well, and work well.
"But really, it is an honor as a money changer to sit and feast with you like this, Mr. Lawrence!"
"No, please."
Lawrence began to feel embarrassed, but something confused him.
He was going to finally introduce himself to the president, but instead Lawrence heard his name first.
"I'm sorry, have we met somewhere before?"
He would never forget so easily such a rotund, white-bearded money changer. Then, the association president bit into meat still on the bone and washed it down with ale before laughing.
"What are you talking about?! You are a hero to us money changers—nay, the patron saint of trade! And your wife has not changed a bit since then! I knew right away!"
Holo, who was spreading butter onto the fried lamprey, looked up as though she had been called.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "Are you listening?!"
***
Fair words fill not the belly.
Like a trained dog, he looked to the shops that Holo pointed out and noted her orders.
Though Lawrence had many things to do in Svernel, Holo sent him on her errands. He did think it was for the best if she stayed in a good mood.
He exited their room and went down the stairs, taking the chickens that would not give way and guiding them into the hallway's corner. It was when he put his hand on the door of the passageway that led to the courtyard—
"Oh, are you going out?"
From the passage facing the workroom came the white-bearded president. He was wiping his hands with a handkerchief, so he must have been on break.
"Yes, we have not eaten yet, so I was planning on going out to buy something."
It was the courtesy for a traveler to prepare their own food when borrowing a room.
"Oh! In that case, would you like to join me? Let's send the boy to do the shopping."
Accepting offers of hospitality was courtesy as well. It would be much too brazen to order the things that Holo wished for at this point, so he remained silent. The association president seemed rather old, so it would likely end up being food that differed from Holo's preferences. He turned his thoughts to figuring out how he would convince Holo to bear with it, but his fears turned out to be groundless.
"Well then, don't hesitate and help yourselves! I'm sorry it's such a filthy place, though!"
The president led him and Holo into an inner room on the first floor, and it was likely a dining hall or meeting room for the association members most days. The room was filled with cargo, and the goods from Nyohhira were in there, too; this was just a portion of the goods that passed through the town in this season. Of course, the scale was incomparable to Nyohhira.
And atop the table was another mountain—a huge variety of oily foods.
"I'm sure you are tired from traveling during this time of year. And we want you to work hard preparing for the festival! Eat your fill as you please!"
The president's voice was rather loud. He may have been used to raising his voice in the workplace, but he was probably this energetic all the time. At any rate, there was a thick cut of smoked venison that had Holo's eyes sparkling, and she boldly stuck a knife into it and took a bite. Had Lawrence met her at an inn, he would have thought she was a bandit chief.
"Are you all right with ale to drink? We have wine, as well."
Since it was not possible to harvest grapes in cold areas, wine must have been an expensive import. Lawrence's former merchant nature kicked in and he tried to restrain Holo, but she luckily chose the cheaper ale. Of course, she was not being modest. She simply thought that ale was more suited to a table filled with greasy foods. Naturally, it did not seem as though she would restrain herself when it came to food.
"Ba-ha-ha-ha! That's a good way to eat!"
Holo garnished a boiled sausage, which was so stuffed with meat it seemed to be bursting, using plenty of mustard and bit into it. The only ones who would be complimented on their restraint would be the aristocratic ladies. Common folk had fewer standards of evaluation—eat well, drink well, and work well.
"But really, it is an honor as a money changer to sit and feast with you like this, Mr. Lawrence!"
"No, please."
Lawrence began to feel embarrassed, but something confused him.
He was going to finally introduce himself to the president, but instead Lawrence heard his name first.
"I'm sorry, have we met somewhere before?"
He would never forget so easily such a rotund, white-bearded money changer. Then, the association president bit into meat still on the bone and washed it down with ale before laughing.
"What are you talking about?! You are a hero to us money changers—nay, the patron saint of trade! And your wife has not changed a bit since then! I knew right away!"
Holo, who was spreading butter onto the fried lamprey, looked up as though she had been called.
| Holo, not too interested, bit into the fried lamprey, then drank her ale to wash down the hot oil.
But Lawrence felt proud when he heard what the president said.
That was the last big adventure he and Holo undertook together.
"Anyhow, without your accomplishments, the Debau Company would have decayed and become a boring company right about now, and the silver debau that brightened the entire northern region may never have been born. And there is no way this town would have grown as big as it did."
At the time, Lawrence and his companions found themselves caught up in a giant plot. Since the convenience of transportation in this region was virtually nonexistent, centralized power had not been established, so there was a grandiose plan to unify the region by establishing a standardized currency. The ones who had dreamed up such an outrageous thing were called the Debau Company.
But it was the way of the world in that wherever there was a plan, there would always be someone trying to foil it, and the Debau Company very nearly had to give up and start over. The one who saved them from that fate was Lawrence, and the one who supported him, Holo. That was why it was possible to claim that had they not been there, the silver debau—currently the most reliable silver piece in the region, a coin engraved with a design of the sun—would not exist.
But after starting their bathhouse in Nyohhira, the birth of their daughter Myuri, and the bustle of daily life, Lawrence had completely forgotten. A long time ago, he might have held his chest high in overflowing pride, but now he reacted with only a small smile and washed down the memory with some ale.
"That was all the will of God. And only possible due to the ties we had with many people."
They did nothing more than play a small part. At that time, they were, at any rate, just a lonely wolf that had been left behind by the passage of time who forgot her way home and a simple traveling merchant.
"And the silver debau is in circulation all thanks to the Debau Company's fiscal management."
"Heh-heh. Those who act modestly are the most frightening. Though the Debau Company is rather frightening, too. They're very strict in managing us."
There were endless kinds of currency in a merchant's purse. Like a power struggle between two countries, the strong determined what coins people used the most. At the worst, the Debau Company controlled business in the northern region by putting the silver debau into circulation. In order to do that, they were thoroughly overseeing its circulation by maintaining its exchange rate and melting down other silver coins.
"The Debau Company now is less like a company and more like a nation of merchants, and the markets are their territory. Silver is stronger than the sword. They treat their vaults as if they were armories."
The world of money and power was one filled with plots.
Long ago, Lawrence thought he could disrupt such a world, but he looked back on his naiveté with a laugh.
"I'm still proud to think that I was involved with such a powerful company as Debau as a humble peddler, even if it was just a little bit."
"What! Being where you need to be when you need to be is a merchant's true skill. Ah no, you own a bathhouse now."
The president laughed and poured ale into Lawrence's mug.
"It seems where you needed to be was Nyohhira."
The president, who had a long relationship with the people of Nyohhira, knew what it meant for them to bring their coins and goods at this time of year.
He cracked the smile of a genial old man and nodded over and over.
"Though it's all and well to settle into the place you belong."
As Lawrence recalled the breadth of business negotiations, the president broached the critical topic.
"I've heard a rumor that there are several who wish to somehow jeopardize that place."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | Holo, not too interested, bit into the fried lamprey, then drank her ale to wash down the hot oil.
But Lawrence felt proud when he heard what the president said.
That was the last big adventure he and Holo undertook together.
"Anyhow, without your accomplishments, the Debau Company would have decayed and become a boring company right about now, and the silver debau that brightened the entire northern region may never have been born. And there is no way this town would have grown as big as it did."
At the time, Lawrence and his companions found themselves caught up in a giant plot. Since the convenience of transportation in this region was virtually nonexistent, centralized power had not been established, so there was a grandiose plan to unify the region by establishing a standardized currency. The ones who had dreamed up such an outrageous thing were called the Debau Company.
But it was the way of the world in that wherever there was a plan, there would always be someone trying to foil it, and the Debau Company very nearly had to give up and start over. The one who saved them from that fate was Lawrence, and the one who supported him, Holo. That was why it was possible to claim that had they not been there, the silver debau—currently the most reliable silver piece in the region, a coin engraved with a design of the sun—would not exist.
But after starting their bathhouse in Nyohhira, the birth of their daughter Myuri, and the bustle of daily life, Lawrence had completely forgotten. A long time ago, he might have held his chest high in overflowing pride, but now he reacted with only a small smile and washed down the memory with some ale.
"That was all the will of God. And only possible due to the ties we had with many people."
They did nothing more than play a small part. At that time, they were, at any rate, just a lonely wolf that had been left behind by the passage of time who forgot her way home and a simple traveling merchant.
"And the silver debau is in circulation all thanks to the Debau Company's fiscal management."
"Heh-heh. Those who act modestly are the most frightening. Though the Debau Company is rather frightening, too. They're very strict in managing us."
There were endless kinds of currency in a merchant's purse. Like a power struggle between two countries, the strong determined what coins people used the most. At the worst, the Debau Company controlled business in the northern region by putting the silver debau into circulation. In order to do that, they were thoroughly overseeing its circulation by maintaining its exchange rate and melting down other silver coins.
"The Debau Company now is less like a company and more like a nation of merchants, and the markets are their territory. Silver is stronger than the sword. They treat their vaults as if they were armories."
The world of money and power was one filled with plots.
Long ago, Lawrence thought he could disrupt such a world, but he looked back on his naiveté with a laugh.
"I'm still proud to think that I was involved with such a powerful company as Debau as a humble peddler, even if it was just a little bit."
"What! Being where you need to be when you need to be is a merchant's true skill. Ah no, you own a bathhouse now."
The president laughed and poured ale into Lawrence's mug.
"It seems where you needed to be was Nyohhira."
The president, who had a long relationship with the people of Nyohhira, knew what it meant for them to bring their coins and goods at this time of year.
He cracked the smile of a genial old man and nodded over and over.
"Though it's all and well to settle into the place you belong."
As Lawrence recalled the breadth of business negotiations, the president broached the critical topic.
"I've heard a rumor that there are several who wish to somehow jeopardize that place."
| "We've also been talking about nothing but lately."
The president leaned back in his chair and sighed as he stroked his beard. In that moment of silence, the only sound was the crunch, crunch of Holo tearing into lamb meat, still on the bone.
"Should we gain another hot spring village, at any rate, trade would grow exponentially, you know."
Lawrence might have been imagining the unpleasant expression on the other man's face.
It was the expression of a merchant who was honest in his profits and who single-mindedly moved forward.
Lawrence felt nostalgic, as though he had met an old friend for the first time in a long time.
"Wouldn't that be like trying to thread two strings through the eye of one needle?"
The association looked busy with its current state of affairs. The president nodded in agreement as he skewered some fried garlic with a knife.
"Of course, I imagine this is not a pleasant situation for Nyohhira's inhabitants."
He pried out a clove of garlic and extended one on his knife in offering, but Lawrence declined.
Instead, Holo took it and ate it with the venison. Lawrence was a bit exasperated, since whenever he ate garlic, she would become angry with him for the smell.
"Who are they? To dig the baths, you need a certain level of preparation. And beyond the mountains...I've heard it's on the other mountain face, to the west of Nyohhira, but I think that far out, there are no smaller communities or anything of the sort."
"Yes, however, there is an old road that travels from Svernel in that direction."
The president sprinkled some salt onto the garlic cloves and simply threw them into his mouth. Though they were in such an exquisite association building, it was refreshing for Lawrence to see him act unaffected.
"It's been several decades now...Back when the Church and its teachings had not taken root at all in this area. At the time zealous monks came, and their blood boiled because they were all but surrounded by enemies. With frightening enthusiasm, they carved open a road and built a stone monastery deep in the mountains. This was back when the northlands and the southern Church were truly at war. But no one bothered them, as though they sensed a sort of courage from them. I think many people in this town, including myself, converted to follow Church ways out of acknowledgment for their passion."
There certainly were things like that. That was true conviction.
"But before we knew it, the war, too, became a shell of what it used to be, and it became like an annual vacation, and the monks also grew old before going off somewhere. Well, this is a difficult land to live in without passion."
"So, the newcomers are at the ruins of the monastery?"
"It would seem so. The road hasn't been used in a long while, so it needs to be cleared again, but I don't know if that will be easier than building a new one. Also, there's word that the building still stands. What's more, they have a special permission for that whole area."
Hearing those words, Lawrence gulped.
"Don't tell me they're planning to colonize?"
In order to prevent rising discontent of those unable to find work after a town or village grew too overpopulated, the nobility would occasionally migrate people to a distant territory. If these were colonists dispatched by noble decree, it would become quite troublesome.
"No...It shouldn't be something on such a large scale. According to rumor, there aren't even ten people."
"Where are they from?"
"I've heard they used to be meager mercenaries in the south. As you know, it is quite a remote area, so they likely got their permission through some sort of connection. And see, since the war ended, mercenaries have also lost their jobs, and their lords might have thought this better than letting mercenaries roam around their land without jobs...That was likely part of the plan. A vagrant lifestyle probably did not suit those soldiers either, so they will likely wash their hands of the ruffian life here."
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | "We've also been talking about nothing but lately."
The president leaned back in his chair and sighed as he stroked his beard. In that moment of silence, the only sound was the crunch, crunch of Holo tearing into lamb meat, still on the bone.
"Should we gain another hot spring village, at any rate, trade would grow exponentially, you know."
Lawrence might have been imagining the unpleasant expression on the other man's face.
It was the expression of a merchant who was honest in his profits and who single-mindedly moved forward.
Lawrence felt nostalgic, as though he had met an old friend for the first time in a long time.
"Wouldn't that be like trying to thread two strings through the eye of one needle?"
The association looked busy with its current state of affairs. The president nodded in agreement as he skewered some fried garlic with a knife.
"Of course, I imagine this is not a pleasant situation for Nyohhira's inhabitants."
He pried out a clove of garlic and extended one on his knife in offering, but Lawrence declined.
Instead, Holo took it and ate it with the venison. Lawrence was a bit exasperated, since whenever he ate garlic, she would become angry with him for the smell.
"Who are they? To dig the baths, you need a certain level of preparation. And beyond the mountains...I've heard it's on the other mountain face, to the west of Nyohhira, but I think that far out, there are no smaller communities or anything of the sort."
"Yes, however, there is an old road that travels from Svernel in that direction."
The president sprinkled some salt onto the garlic cloves and simply threw them into his mouth. Though they were in such an exquisite association building, it was refreshing for Lawrence to see him act unaffected.
"It's been several decades now...Back when the Church and its teachings had not taken root at all in this area. At the time zealous monks came, and their blood boiled because they were all but surrounded by enemies. With frightening enthusiasm, they carved open a road and built a stone monastery deep in the mountains. This was back when the northlands and the southern Church were truly at war. But no one bothered them, as though they sensed a sort of courage from them. I think many people in this town, including myself, converted to follow Church ways out of acknowledgment for their passion."
There certainly were things like that. That was true conviction.
"But before we knew it, the war, too, became a shell of what it used to be, and it became like an annual vacation, and the monks also grew old before going off somewhere. Well, this is a difficult land to live in without passion."
"So, the newcomers are at the ruins of the monastery?"
"It would seem so. The road hasn't been used in a long while, so it needs to be cleared again, but I don't know if that will be easier than building a new one. Also, there's word that the building still stands. What's more, they have a special permission for that whole area."
Hearing those words, Lawrence gulped.
"Don't tell me they're planning to colonize?"
In order to prevent rising discontent of those unable to find work after a town or village grew too overpopulated, the nobility would occasionally migrate people to a distant territory. If these were colonists dispatched by noble decree, it would become quite troublesome.
"No...It shouldn't be something on such a large scale. According to rumor, there aren't even ten people."
"Where are they from?"
"I've heard they used to be meager mercenaries in the south. As you know, it is quite a remote area, so they likely got their permission through some sort of connection. And see, since the war ended, mercenaries have also lost their jobs, and their lords might have thought this better than letting mercenaries roam around their land without jobs...That was likely part of the plan. A vagrant lifestyle probably did not suit those soldiers either, so they will likely wash their hands of the ruffian life here."
| If that was the case, then he would be thankful. It was extremely difficult to find new springs, even in Nyohhira. All of the noteworthy places were used up, and it was thanks to Holo's wolf powers that he was able to open a bathhouse at all.
"We also thought so. But..."
The president put down his knife and gulped down his mug of ale.
"...They've got good heads on their shoulders."
Good heads.
And the president even looked a bit bitter.
"They're preparing ahead."
"Ahead?"
"Basically, they're assuming that they will strike water and have already come to buy the supplies needed for a hot spring village. So they've already made inroads with the lumber trade, the butcher's, the baker's association, the ale brewer's association, and the winery association."
Lawrence was at a loss for words, and the president's expression grew grimmer and grimmer.
"Every association will fight with us over seats in the city council. These newcomers seem to be aware, somehow, even of private affairs."
In exchange for handling materials, something was done under the table. Associations took bribes and bought places on the city council using that money. That was likely it.
Putting guesses aside, Lawrence did not think their conversation was truly reaching that point yet.
This meant that they were not up against southern ruffians who came simply because they had a rough idea. They would not come, risking everything on whether or not they would find spring water. They at least had enough sense to make sure they were properly laying down the necessary groundwork.
"They haven't come to us yet, so they probably don't need help with currency."
Rather, it was the money changers that relied on the coins that the hot spring towns saved up.
But as Lawrence groaned, the president slammed his thick arms, which could knock down a bull, onto the table and stood up.
"This means that our interests and your...no, Nyohhira's interests, are one and the same. If those with power in the council go against us, then we would lose face. At the same time, if we can stay above our competitors like we always have, we can continue to ensure the division of limited supplies will suit Nyohhira's circumstances. I believe we should cooperate."
It had been a while since he had talked about exposed interests that coincided.
Lawrence, aware of his own importance, slowly reached out to his ale and drank slowly. He kicked awake his sleeping mind and lit it ablaze, since the president should have been proposing that he wanted money in exchange for protecting their supplies.
"Of course, it is as you say."
But if that were the case, then it would be more effective to go directly to the lumber and meat associations in order to compete with the newcomers. Or it was possible that the president was using the fact newcomers had appeared as part of a show by the president.
At any rate, it was something that involved quite a bit of money.
If Lawrence acted carelessly, it would affect his colleagues in Nyohhira for decades to come.
"But I must discuss this with the other villagers."
"Hmm? I suppose you should, but Mr. Lawrence, I am asking you now."
It was difficult to tell if his reddened cheeks were from excitement or the alcohol.
As Lawrence hesitated, the president suddenly looked as though he had realized something.
"Mr. Lawrence, don't tell me you...?"
Lawrence panicked when he thought that perhaps the president had made a big misunderstanding. He likely thought that Nyohhira had already betrayed the money changers and run to the lumber and butcher associations.
"No, this is the first I've heard of this. That's all I ask you to believe."
"Oh, I see, well, I suppose so...I, too, would be flustered if I suddenly heard all of this at once, but we can't lose to those guys."
It was a fight for standing in a crowded town. Especially since business was booming now, seats in the council were like thrones. Even so, it would be unbearable to be treated as pawns in a political arena.
|
Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can. | If that was the case, then he would be thankful. It was extremely difficult to find new springs, even in Nyohhira. All of the noteworthy places were used up, and it was thanks to Holo's wolf powers that he was able to open a bathhouse at all.
"We also thought so. But..."
The president put down his knife and gulped down his mug of ale.
"...They've got good heads on their shoulders."
Good heads.
And the president even looked a bit bitter.
"They're preparing ahead."
"Ahead?"
"Basically, they're assuming that they will strike water and have already come to buy the supplies needed for a hot spring village. So they've already made inroads with the lumber trade, the butcher's, the baker's association, the ale brewer's association, and the winery association."
Lawrence was at a loss for words, and the president's expression grew grimmer and grimmer.
"Every association will fight with us over seats in the city council. These newcomers seem to be aware, somehow, even of private affairs."
In exchange for handling materials, something was done under the table. Associations took bribes and bought places on the city council using that money. That was likely it.
Putting guesses aside, Lawrence did not think their conversation was truly reaching that point yet.
This meant that they were not up against southern ruffians who came simply because they had a rough idea. They would not come, risking everything on whether or not they would find spring water. They at least had enough sense to make sure they were properly laying down the necessary groundwork.
"They haven't come to us yet, so they probably don't need help with currency."
Rather, it was the money changers that relied on the coins that the hot spring towns saved up.
But as Lawrence groaned, the president slammed his thick arms, which could knock down a bull, onto the table and stood up.
"This means that our interests and your...no, Nyohhira's interests, are one and the same. If those with power in the council go against us, then we would lose face. At the same time, if we can stay above our competitors like we always have, we can continue to ensure the division of limited supplies will suit Nyohhira's circumstances. I believe we should cooperate."
It had been a while since he had talked about exposed interests that coincided.
Lawrence, aware of his own importance, slowly reached out to his ale and drank slowly. He kicked awake his sleeping mind and lit it ablaze, since the president should have been proposing that he wanted money in exchange for protecting their supplies.
"Of course, it is as you say."
But if that were the case, then it would be more effective to go directly to the lumber and meat associations in order to compete with the newcomers. Or it was possible that the president was using the fact newcomers had appeared as part of a show by the president.
At any rate, it was something that involved quite a bit of money.
If Lawrence acted carelessly, it would affect his colleagues in Nyohhira for decades to come.
"But I must discuss this with the other villagers."
"Hmm? I suppose you should, but Mr. Lawrence, I am asking you now."
It was difficult to tell if his reddened cheeks were from excitement or the alcohol.
As Lawrence hesitated, the president suddenly looked as though he had realized something.
"Mr. Lawrence, don't tell me you...?"
Lawrence panicked when he thought that perhaps the president had made a big misunderstanding. He likely thought that Nyohhira had already betrayed the money changers and run to the lumber and butcher associations.
"No, this is the first I've heard of this. That's all I ask you to believe."
"Oh, I see, well, I suppose so...I, too, would be flustered if I suddenly heard all of this at once, but we can't lose to those guys."
It was a fight for standing in a crowded town. Especially since business was booming now, seats in the council were like thrones. Even so, it would be unbearable to be treated as pawns in a political arena.
| "Or could it be that? Mr. Lawrence, have you taken a special oath of nonviolence?"
The president had asked another question so suddenly, Lawrence felt if he took it too lightly, he would be instantly led around by the nose.
But it was too crazy.
"What? Non...violence?"
The other man might have been asking Lawrence to get rid of eyesores. It was not as though there were no such incidents in the world of trade—though he knew this, he felt his back grow sweaty.
Assassination.
Until just a few years ago, this place had been influenced by a war that spanned several decades. Kill or be killed might have been considered normal.
He gulped out of nervousness, and the president continued, staring at the table.
"Faith is precious. I cannot deny that. But as long as we choose to live, we cannot escape every single loss of life. May I ask you to avert your gaze, just this once?"
His gaze slowly made its way to Lawrence.
"You seem to take good care of yourself, and it doesn't seem that your gut would get in the way."
If a townsperson committed the deed, they would be exposed easily. But if it was someone from the mountains, the president likely thought that they could simply disappear into the mountains. And digging a bath was similar to mining, and mining obviously came with accidents. Just as Holo said jokingly, they could go to the place where the newcomers were digging and bury them in dirt. And the bathhouse coordinator in Nyohhira said the same—if it were back in the old days, they would be ready to cross the mountain with clubs in hand...
Surrounded by the steam that smelled of sulfur, perhaps Lawrence could not clearly see outside the world.
Indeed—the world was a place this cruel and heartless.
He remembered that keeping a clean conscience was a tremendous luxury.
"But I—"
"I know, I know. It's a bit different than the help every year that my association and the village of Nyohhira have agreed on.
It is not just "a bit."
Lawrence wanted to yell that.
"Our money changer association is, as I'm sure you know, filled with those who sit to work. Besides the money changers, the other members of this association are all craftsmen who do metalwork, carve pillars and walls. And they're a bit too...old to run around chasing game."
Lawrence then recalled the president's exclamation from earlier about how happy he was the village had sent someone young this time—only now it had taken on a new, dark meaning. His choice of saying "game" was like a reminder that it happened regularly.
"But do not worry. We are used to these sorts of situations. Mr. Lawrence, I want you to catch our game and bring them back."
Catch, kill, scatter, and bury. The flow of things was already determined.
The president gulped down his ale and spoke.
"I realize that your job is the most difficult. But...to beat them, this is our only choice. And I've heard that you used to live on the road as a merchant. I'm sure you've experienced this once or twice?"
He had certainly heard of those kinds of tradesmen. For example, the kind that stuck close to wars and conflicts. They went around pillaging towns with soldiers and dealt with those who attempted to protect their assets by swallowing gold and jewels.
He had seen and heard about them a few times when he was a traveling merchant. Stories about people who offered to travel together on dangerous roads when they were really the pawns of bandits.
But Lawrence thought himself different. Even if he could not say with pride before God that he was a perfectly honest merchant, he never crossed any moral boundaries the patron saint of trade would refuse to forgive. And it went without saying that he was a father now. There was no way he would be able to hug his beloved daughter when she came home if his hands were covered in blood. He could not. He would not.
|
Subsets and Splits