Spring Log III

by Isuna Hasekura

  “The crest is of a wolf.”

  The abbot reached out to the body and wiped the face of the pendant that hung from its neck.

  Under the layers of dust appeared a wolf design.

  “’Tis also all over his clothes.”

  Holo murmured, and Lawrence finally noticed them as well.

  What he thought were smudges all over the body’s clothes and even rucksack were images of wolves, faded over the years and months.

  “There’s also…Ah, I knew it. It’s a seal.”

  It was a metallic piece small enough to rest in his palm, and engraved on the finger rests were images of wolves.

  “And this must be for branding cargo. A double-headed wolf is quite an extravagant design.”

  Engraved on the square piece of metal, about as big as an adult’s hand, was a design of a single wolf with two heads. Holo shrunk away from the unfamiliar, eerie image.

  But there was a precise reason for that reaction.

  “A country destroyed in a war long ago…perhaps?”

  “If not, then someone who tried to establish their house in a new land during the time when war ravaged the land and faded away in the midst of their dream. Seeing how he’s alone, he must have been a retainer who escaped the battles and headed north to fulfill his lord’s last wish…He must be from my grandfather’s time. A crest featuring a double-headed beast is too much for this day and age.”

  Holo, full of doubt, turned to Lawrence, who spoke to her.

  “This is a crest following the style of those originating from old empires.”

  The abbot also found the copy of the scripture in the rucksack, and he prayed sincerely to the body’s faith.

  “The wolf, especially, is evidence of power and a good harvest, so it is used often. I don’t quite recall when it was, but remember when I made a wolf coin into a necklace for you?”

  Those kinds of coins also supposedly kept wolves away, so travelers liked them.

  “Two heads facing left and right means its piercing gaze reaches all the way from east to west in its large territory. Nowadays, ever since territories started being divided into smaller pieces and the dream of a world to one’s own is no longer possible, it’s a design that only countries with a long history can use.”

  Holo nodded meekly, but Lawrence noticed something else as he stared intently at the design.

  Upon closer inspection, it was not symmetrical, and the depths of the faces carved on either side were different as well.

  “This…The first design was squashed, and he carved a new one. Which means…”

  The designs that filled the page of parchment were the remnants of this nameless artisan’s dreams, with no one to talk to in this cave.

  When Lawrence told Holo this, she narrowed her eyes sadly and stared at the deceased artisan. Her hand gripped his arm even harder from the grief of losing someone with an affinity to wolves.

  Meanwhile, the abbot finished his prayer and stood slowly.

  “It must have been divine guidance that he perished here and we found him. Let us find out where this crest is from just to be sure, then give him a respectful burial.”

  “Yes.”

  This was the abbot who loved alcohol and meat and came to Lawrence with a favor to hastily avoid any criticism of amassing too much wealth in his monastery.

  However, his next line appeared to be quite sincere.

  “Be that as it may, it is cold here. Let us bury him in the Nyohhira cemetery and thaw his frozen soul.”

  They crawled out of the cave, explained the gist of the situation to Aram and the others who had been anxiously waiting for a report, then called it a day.

  In the end, through Abbot Harivel’s connections with guests in other bathhouses, they identified the dead man as someone from a small country that was destroyed a mere fifty years ago. An elderly landlord who had spent almost a month traveling far from the south knew the crest.

  He looked terribly wistful and spoke of a time when war ravaged the world in a way that was impossible to imagine now.

  Even after the fighting had died down, these sorts of war mementos were found in sheds and out in village fields all over the place. Among them were restored houses, whose faint rays of hope had come true, but many of their origins were simply lost in the flow of time.

  After thoroughly washed and polished the branding iron they brought back from the cave, bringing it into the sunlight showed clearly that, just as Lawrence thought, the old design had not been entirely erased.

  Many people long ago had grand dreams of ruling an entire empire.

  Either way, since the traveler’s origin turned out to not be a source of trouble, Lawrence relayed the situation to the other bathhouse owners and suggested they bury the body in the village’s graveyard—but that was exactly what became a problem.

  “What on earth are you talking about?! Our monastery is in the Schten region, from which the traveler fled, and boasts a history of two hundred and seventy years—”

  “If we are talking about history, then our church is descendant of Saint Imodes and is actually six hundred and twenty—”

  “Please hold on for a second. The scripture the traveler had was an edition with Professor Pearson’s annotations, and it is clear he belonged to the Ridol school! So it would be most appropriate if we, the Millay Monastery, offer relief to the traveler’s soul—” “What sophistry!” “How dare you!” “What did you say?!”

  The storage room that they also used as a meeting place for assemblies fell into utter mayhem as they debated who would preside over the traveler’s funeral. High-ranking clergymen from all over the world gathered in the village of Nyohhira, after all. A hundred ship captains would always end up arguing if there was only one boat. It was as though cows and goats and sheep had all been stuffed together in one room, with white beards and black beards, bald heads glinting from greasy sweat in anger, arms as skinny as dried twigs flailing about, and protruding stomachs knocking over tables.

  Once the fighting bathhouse masters started grabbing the collars of one another’s clothes, fully armored knights even wearing metal helms pulled them off each other, tired of it all.

  The important guests, sitting on crimson-cushioned chairs, watching the whole thing unfold with sharp gazes, were the lords who supported the clergymen. Since they were, at the very least, donating to the churches and monasteries in their own territory, they believed the authority of the clergymen they supported was a direct display of their own authority’s greatness. Not only that, but the man who had perished in the cave had lived in a time of war, with faith and loyalty in his heart, and died acting out a dream—a war hero.

  The question of who would offer solace to this man’s soul was not one that could be compromised on in Nyohhira, where many of high status gathered.

  In the corner of the meeting room, Lawrence gazed at the design and let slip a sigh.

  He quickly closed his mouth so that he would not be reprimanded, but he heard a soft chuckle from beside him.

  “It is truly foolish.”

  The one who said that was the old landlord who had told them who the traveler really was. Though he was not one of Lawrence’s guests, he had rented out Spice and Wolf’s famous grotto bath a number of times, so he knew his face.

  “He lived in a time of war. I think we should just copy what they did back then.”

  “In a time of war?”

  Lawrence had acquaintances who were mercenaries, but they preferred to avoid war since it got in the way of their trade. He did not know much about it.

  “Yes. On the battlefield without any priests, you just bury the remains and sprinkle alcohol over them, or if they were a nondrinker, then bury them with their favorite food. Tedious prayer and who conducted the ceremony were of no importance.”

  It seemed easy enough for the rules of the battlefield, where practicality was key.

  He was a bald, skinny, and aging lord, but Lawrence could easily imagine him spr
inkling ale over a buried companion with sword in hand.

  “But the war is over, and those who can control words act as they please. Perhaps it’s proof of peace, but…”

  The old lord sighed, too, then winked at his attendant who helped him to his feet.

  “By the way, is that grotto bath of yours open?”

  “Hmm? Oh yes, since everyone is taking part in this chaos.”

  “Wonderful. I want to use it later.”

  “Sure thing. I will see you soon.”

  Lawrence dipped his head respectfully and watched the old lord walk off.

  Then, knowing it would be a waste of time to stick around, he left.

  Since not everyone could fit inside the meeting room, a dense crowd stood outside trying to peer through the open doors. Beyond them was a storyteller animatedly conveying what was going on inside to another crowd of guests enjoying the tale.

  Lawrence sighed at the spectacle when someone tugged on his clothes, and he turned around.

  There was Holo, a hood pulled low over her face, looking bored.

  “Oh, perfect timing. I was just on my way back to the bathhouse.”

  Holo nodded briefly and quickly began walking off. She was acting like a child dragged off to church in the middle of their playtime, but it was she who had wanted to see what was going on and followed him in the first place.

  Though she typically walked beside him, at the moment she was a few steps ahead. Times like these usually meant she was grumpy, and if she was acting by the book, then it meant she was cranky from having been left alone.

  However, she had also said she would wait outside, so the problem clearly lay elsewhere.

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  As they traveled up the sloping road, Lawrence spoke once the noise from the meeting room grew distant and they could hear the faint sounds of easy music coming from the bathhouses along the way.

  “About what?”

  Holo responded without turning back, and Lawrence smiled bitterly.

  “That commotion isn’t your fault.”

  Once he had asked the details of when they found the traveler’s body, apparently both Holo and Aram had used their wolf noses to sniff it out. They could have simply ignored the body, but they feared it might have been someone who had gotten lost so they went to check…And since it carried all sorts of wolf-related items, they were unable to just pretend they had not seen it.

  And so, while it had not become a heretical problem, it did lead to a big scuffle among the guests.

  The honest Aram was of course apologetic for causing trouble, and Holo, too, must have felt somewhat responsible since these past few days she seemed down and somewhat restless.

  “I care not for the quarrels of those bearded ones.”

  However, Holo spoke stubbornly. Lawrence wanted to ask her why she wanted to go watch them shouting at one another, but he had a feeling she would get angry with him if he did. Perhaps it was because of her pride as the self-styled wisewolf, ruler of the forests, but in any case, Holo was sensitive and prone to bouts of loneliness, so he could not let her alone.

  While it could be said she was difficult, Lawrence thought about how she opened herself up to only him, and that truly made him happy.

  Or perhaps it was his difficult merchant’s personality, which got him fired up at every troublesome customer’s order.

  “But are you all right?”

  Holo glanced back at him over her shoulder as she asked him.

  “Me?”

  Lawrence replied blankly, making Holo’s face twist into a scowl.

  “That thing you had thought of—’twould not be possible at this rate, no?”

  They were finally on the same page. Holo was talking about the fake funeral that Lawrence had come up with.

  “Probably not…If we decided to go through with the fake funeral as a town event, the guests would surely start fighting over who would get to preside over it. Watching all that makes me think, Yeah, I don’t think we can do it.”

  Since there were few visitors when they did a trial run, there had not been any problems. But once it became a village event, the priest who stood speaking before the coffin would become the very face of Nyohhira.

  He could imagine the old men rushing forth, announcing their own qualifications.

  But in that case, was this what Holo was the most worried about? Just as Lawrence had come up with the idea of an event, contributed to the village, and was excited about being recognized by his fellow villagers, though it was an accident, she had made it all for naught…

  That did sound just like a mental trap she tended to fall into, but Lawrence did not think that was the case.

  “But about that, this is good news, in a way.”

  Holo gave him a frown, as though telling him to quit the flimsy consolations.

  “It’s true. Because I hadn’t the foggiest idea that the clergy would be so vain and hardheaded. Imagine what would happen if we innocently announced our fake funeral without experiencing this. Even more people would be keeping their eyes on us.”

  Holo stayed a few steps ahead of him as usual and responded, “And?”

  “See, then we couldn’t just simply cancel our plans. If all the guests got into a huge, uncontrollable fight because of my ideas, then who would be taking responsibility? I would. I wouldn’t be a member of the village, then—I’d be on a bed of thorns. You saved me. Thank you.”

  Lawrence beamed earnestly, and she slowed her pace, drawing closer to him.

  “And the fake funeral was also meant for collecting coins, but now we know that was totally irrelevant.”

  Lawrence spoke as if to himself. It was less of a consolation for Holo and more of a complaint.

  “Funerals come with donations and votives, so we thought we could gently coax coins out of the guests, but it’s usually the priest leading the ceremony who takes it all. If we don’t have someone from the village acting as priest, then the guest priest who leads it will collect the money. Of course, the other clergy won’t stay quiet. That is a big reason why they were arguing so much at the meeting, even if that isn’t the only reason.”

  Lawrence’s sigh was genuine.

  “Honestly, my get-rich senses have dulled since I’ve stopped peddling.”

  Holo was still facing away from him, but he could tell from the air about her that she was listening.

  Lawrence then spoke, not to soothe Holo, but to soothe himself.

  “Once again, I came up with a way to get rich quick and almost fell into an unavoidable trap. I managed to avoid that only because I gave offerings of good meat and alcohol often.”

  When he finished his sentence, Holo turned around and whapped him on the arm.

  “Do not make such a fool of me. I have not provided you any wisdom.”

  “But it’s your job as a goddess to bring me happiness, isn’t it?”

  He took Holo’s hand and kissed the back of it.

  But his smile slowly vanished because her expression remained sullen.

  “…Hey. This commotion isn’t your fault, and no one has ever told me that I’ve brought unnecessary outside trouble into the village. And this time, we escaped without rustling too many feathers.”

  When they were traveling when he was a merchant, they were constantly blamed for the bad things that happened to occur in the villages they visited. Holo was especially sensitive to that sort of atmosphere for her own safety.

  And now, there was not a whiff of disquiet in the air, and since the guests were all taking part in the commotion, the masters were actually rather happy for the empty bathhouses.

  It was a short break in an otherwise busy season.

  “I, too, know this.”

  Lawrence wanted to ask her why she was so upset.

  But he held his tongue when he saw her, still a few steps ahead, turn back to him, on the verge of tears.

  “…Holo?”

  Lawrence called her name, his apprehension piqui
ng quicker than his surprise.

  What was Holo worried about?

  Was Holo disappointed that he did not know?

  It was just after his heart began to beat faster in a panic in all his doubts.

  She did not stop walking but instead turned on her heel like a rabbit and embraced Lawrence.

  “Oof!”

  He almost fell backward, but he managed to catch her in his arms.

  Holo buried her face into Lawrence’s chest, and the arms wrapped around him held him firmly.

  He was bewildered, not sure what it might be, and as he searched for something to say he could hear Holo’s muffled voice.

  “You are here, right?”

  “Huh?”

  Holo held him even tighter and repeated herself.

  “Is the one here the real you?”

  “…”

  Holo looked straight up at him, her expression seemed as if it would be swallowed up by a cloud of anxiety.

  “You…”

  Lawrence murmured, and after a brief expression of shock, Holo buried her face in his chest again.

  At that moment, a familiar merchant who often came to the village passed by, clearly pretending not to look at them.

  Though Lawrence predicted wild rumors would undoubtedly start flying around soon, what was important to him now was Holo.

  “Hey, let’s go over there. People pass this way.”

  There was still a bit of distance until the bathhouse, but there was a perfect stump in a thicket beside the road. He led Holo by the hand, and they both sat down on it. And as they gazed out onto the village, Lawrence recalled that they had done this when he was a traveling merchant.

  The awkward make up after a fight, or when their travels were hindered for many days in the woods by the depressing, rainy days, or…

  The arrogant princess clung to Lawrence from his side as she sniffled.

  Lawrence wrapped his arm around his shoulders and thought.

  “Is the one here the real you?” she had asked.

  He lightly patted her on the back and sighed, tired.

  The third reason Holo acted like this.

  She had a bad dream.

  “I get it now. You thought the corpse in that cave might be me, right?”

  Holo’s body shivered. It seemed as though he was right.