“I’m so moved! To think that after such a long period without customers, someone with such a mighty appetite would visit us! This must be the will of the heavens!”
The taverner was exaggerating, but the place was only half-occupied. Most of the patrons were silently drinking, and they all seemed to be locals; half of them appeared to be craftsmen, and the other half small-time peddlers.
Workers whose company headquarters were on the mainland were conspicuously absent. This was most likely because they knew that making a show of their companies’ good business would only earn them contempt from the locals.
For a traveler, however, the opposite was true. As soon as Lawrence generously offered to treat the others to meat and liquor, the fat and alcohol became the ideal lubricant that got them talking endlessly.
“Just look at this lifeless place! Hey, you guys! This here is how you should be eating and drinking at a tavern!”
“Ah shut up, old man! Aren’t you the same, always shunning the good stuff for that watery beer they brew right over the muddy ground?”
“Yeah! I hear you even top your bread with so many beans your wife goes mad in tears!”
Note: our best guess is that he ate beans instead of meat (to save money), and his wife had to deal with the after-effects.
The taverner began joking loudly with the regulars, causing a wave of laughter. One town merchant had told Lawrence that in times of bad business the locals would often feel like the world was beyond saving. A generous traveler could spark a new hope in their hearts at those times, where they would believe some good still remained in the world.
“By the way, whereabouts you traveling from, good sir?”
Since eating nothing but roast mutton would eventually disgust them, Lawrence and company also ordered a mutton stew with sauerkraut. The taverner posed his question as he delivered that dish to their table. He didn’t address it to Holo, but it wasn’t because of her youthful appearance; she was too busy eating mutton. Watching her eat so greedily made all the other guests want to cheer her on.
“From Gerube on the mainland. Before that I was traveling in countries further down south.”
“Gerube..? Oh! There’s been some great commotion there lately, hasn’t there? What was it.. Hey! Hans! What happened in Gerube again?”
“It was the Narwhale, wasn’t it? How d’you even do business with such poor information, ya old coot? I hear they reeled up one a’them devils of the frozen sea. Caused quite a stir, too! The Lyon Company’s boatmen that just came into harbor told me so.”
One needed to be wary of how quickly information could even cross the oceans. The Narwhale fiasco only ended a few days ago, after all.
“Right right right! The Narwhale, that was it. Say, are the rumors true?”
The owner’s face was full of curiosity as he asked. He would never suspect that the one who turned the tides of that commotion was sitting before his very eyes. Lawrence turned to Holo to share a furtive smile with her.. only to discover that she wasn’t paying any attention to him at all.
If he glanced over at Cole right now, the boy would surely recognize his intent and smile at their shared secret. Yet which of those two companions with such different dispositions would Lawrence wish to show the greater kindness to? The answer was obvious.
“They’re true. The whole town was almost split in two – north and south – because of it all. In the end one company readied several crates of gold coins, hauled them to the Church, and loudly demanded they be sold the Narwhale. Because of all that commotion we didn’t get a moment’s leisure.”
“Oh.. crates full of gold coins, huh?”
All of the guests surrounding Lawrence and listening visibly responded to his mention of gold-filled crates. Given their reaction it was all too simple to see where their interests currently lay.
“Then what brings the three of you all the way up here from countries further south of Gerube? You’re here to do business, aren’t you?”
“Nah, we’re here on a pilgrimage to the Brondel Monastery.”
Lawrence intentionally avoided the topic of money, having noted how sensitive it was to his audience. From his perspective, at least half of them seemed to be either merchants or craftsmen. Were he honest about his true motives it would be impossible to gather information, as they’d probably be busily trying to hock their wares.
“Oh, the Brondel Monastery, huh..”
“Hard as it may be to believe, these two with me are indeed children of God. Though it’s contrary to my nature, I’ve been moved and am acting likely to purify my sins.”
“I see. But a merchant on a pilgrimage to the Brondel Monastery.. pretty ironic, huh?”
Though it had escaped Lawrence’s notice, a cup full of wine had made its way into the taverner’s hands. As the man spoke he glanced around for the other guest’s agreement. The smile that had surfaced on his face, as well as the other’s, was clearly sarcastic. Lawrence did his best to don the guise of an ignorant traveler.
“Why’s that ironic?”
“Well, ’cos the Brondel Monastery’s eye for business is stronger than legend would have it, and it’s not been kind to pilgrims for many a year. Most foreigners headed there pass through our town, and I’ve already seen far too many come back with faces full of disappointment.”
“They’re supposed to give money to fix up roads and inns for pilgrims, but the amount they’ve given for that is slim indeed considering the huge sums they make from the wool trade! Even a child can see how their scales tilt. May the Almighty’s protection be upon us!”
Hearing a merchant-like customer voice that opinion made the taverner nod his head vigorously. Be it a company or a monastery, the route it went down always seemed to be the same whenever a desire for money surfaced.. even if they seemed to forfeit a great deal in the process as well.
“It’s likely ’cos they keep doing such things that they’ve finally earned some divine retribution. Winfield’s wool sales have been pitiful for some reason the past few years, and no one’s been hit harder than the monastery. Even merchants as docile as a wee lamb won’t go there anymore. All the pilgrims they’ve brushed off won’t be coming back to line their coffers now, no matter how desperate they are.”
“But to think that a foreign merchant would seek a pilgrimage there in such times.. maybe that divine retribution is coming to an end. Shame, it served ’em right.”
Because of how much people revered religious institutions it was all the more astonishing to see how harshly those people turned on them when that reverence subsided. All of the patrons at the tavern were bad-mouthing the monastery in high spirits. This meant that probing for information about the Ruvik Alliance should be a snap.
“So that’s how things are.. does that mean no one visits the monastery these days?”
The taverner’s facial expression became complicated upon hearing that question. That thought brings me such joy, yet also a hint of sadness - that seemed to be what it was saying. In spite of everything, the monastery was still an important center of faith and was deeply ingrained in the heart of every Winfieldian.
“Some do. Many merchants gather there even now. But they’re a bit different from the kind we’re used to. You’ve heard of the Ruvik Alliance, have you sir?”
Holo’s stopped taking huge bites of mutton and took a drink from her wine cup as if coming up for air.. but that was clearly no mere coincidence. She could tell that the topics that had stirred up a lively atmosphere had come to an end.
“You mean the number one economic alliance, whose name is known the world over?”
“The very same. I hear their men are entering the monastery grounds in droves. At first it was high-ranking officials coming in black carriages, but maybe ’cos of the harsh winter climate they were soon replaced by merchants going on foot. I hear that ever since, those merchants go in and out one after the other, trying to be the first to finalize negotiations. Because of that we’ve had nothing b
ut stone-faced merchants all year, heading right over the grassy plains without so much as casting a glance at my tavern.”
“Just what kind of negotiations are they having?”
Whatever Lawrence heard next should either prove or disprove Deutschmann’s claims. That was the only reason he asked, so the answer took him completely by surprise.
“Don’t laugh, but they’re here to buy the Golden Sheep.”
Lawrence could swear he heard Holo’s ears flip up under her hood. For his part, all he could do was stare at the taverner incredulously.
“That legend always seems to surface whenever bad times come, that the monastery owns a grassy plain stretching far as the eye can see, and at one end of that snowy land walks a dazzling sheep of gold, like an incarnation of the very sun.”
“Legend has it that a man once plucked a bit of its golden wool, but it dissolved like a thread of light the moment it was separated from its body.”
Lawrence had heard many legends like this. In times of war, the worse off a nation was the more such legends came into being. Stories of the Holy Mother’s statues crying, witches grinning from ear to ear as they kidnapped children, and enormous flags with the Church’s emblem fluttering around in the heavens.
In fact the legend of the Golden Sheep of the Brondel Monastery was widely known on the mainland. Each time the world descended into darkness, that legend would miraculously bring new hope.
“They’re probably really here for the monastery’s name, or its land.”
“There’s a rumor the alliance is aiming to become Winfield aristocracy.”
“But King Sylvan’s the grandson of King Winfield the First - he couldn’t possibly allow men to buy into nobility. A merchant once bought the name of a fallen noble, and it so earned the king’s wrath that he decreed a law making them lose big in the wool trade, so now it’s come to this.”
The man who spoke was gesturing a beheading with his hand. Lawrence realized that very merchant must have been the former husband of a certain someone he knew.
“No one’s got any money, but the King keeps raising the taxes. Although, maybe it’s more accurate to say he’s being so excessive because no one’s got any money.”
“You three are good customers, so I’ll give you a warning - if you’re planning on going to the monastery, then be careful. The house of God’s been taken over by devils. The god who should be coming to our aid’s been long lost in the grassy plains, unseen and unheard for ages.”
At this point Lawrence had no idea anymore if the locals were bad-mouthing the monastery or the Ruvik Alliance. Maybe they didn’t even know who they wanted to criticize anymore. Maybe it was just enough for them to have something to complain about. But no matter who they were directing their complaints at, it wasn’t out of pure hatred.
Both the king and the alliance were entities living in a world beyond their own, and the monastery
was still something they looked up to even if it had fallen. The emotional paradoxes in the hearts of the locals was plain for anyone to see. Because of that, Lawrence felt he understood their hardships.
“Thank you. We’ll be careful.”
“Aye, then you’d best eat and drink grandly so you’ll have enough energy! As soon as you leave town, you’ll be greeted by snow-covered fields. Without enough vitality, you’ll fall dead on the way!”
The taverner’s words heated the atmosphere up again. Lawrence raised his cup and drank a toast to him. Cole already seemed to be at his limit, but Holo seemed capable of drinking more.
The Brondel Monastery, situated on a snowy plain.. if that was their destination, it would indeed be wise to properly fill their stomachs beforehand.
* * *
He heard a crackling, like the sound of burning firewood. But they didn’t start a campfire last night, did they? Oh, that’s right, the fireplace.. they had used that the previous night. It just sounded different from the campfires he was used to. His thoughts finally started clicking, and he opened his eyes and lifted his head.
The room was still dim, so it had to be early. He could tell whether the outside weather was good or bad just by the kind of light that was seeping in through the seams of the window. Alas, it was shaping up to be a gloomy day.
He was just thinking to himself that it would be a cold one, when a wave of frigid air mercilessly flung itself at him and roused him completely. It seemed the cold had already infiltrated into their room, but despite that he could still hear the crackling of burning firewood.
“It’s snowing huh,”
He muttered to himself before letting out a big yawn, then sat up. His wool-stuffed blanket had indeed kept him nice and warm. In fact, it had been quite a while since he’d slept so soundly. Even Holo seemed to be in a deep sleep. Her fluffy blanket made the regular rising and falling of her breaths seem even more dramatic than usual.
But it sure was cold. It felt like he’d fallen into an icy river. Glancing toward Cole’s bed, he discovered that he, like Holo, had curled up into a ball and covered himself entirely. Lawrence was the only one who slept with his face exposed.
He rubbed that face a few times before exhaling a wisp of white air. He then rose from bed, shivered a moment, walked to the desk, picked up the water jug, and gave it a shake. He hadn’t hoped for the best, and indeed the water inside was frozen solid.
“Guess I’ll just have to go downstairs and get some more..”
Since he began his travels with Holo, Lawrence’s habit of talking to himself had grown far less frequent. At times like this, though, he’d still inevitably fall back into old habits and mutter a line or two to himself.
He tossed some straw onto the meager flames still lingering in the fireplace, then waited for them to ignite before tossing in a little more firewood. It might look fancy, but a brick fireplace like this could still extinguish its own flames simply from the coldness of the bricks themselves.
Once the fire was going again he left the room. The hall was dead silent, but it didn’t feel like it was from a lack of patrons or the early hour. Instead it felt as if something was eating up all the sound. The floorboards creaked with every step, but it wasn’t of any concern. Such quietness, akin to being covered in cotton, was something unique to snowy days.
Once on the ground floor he realized that the inn wasn’t yet open for business, and the wooden latch still barred the doors of the entrance. He did, however, hear another door opening deep down the hallway which lead to the central courtyard. Shortly after that he saw a red-nosed innkeeper with a scarf wound around his neck carrying a barrel over his shoulder.
“Oh? You’re sure up early.”
“Morning.”
“God damn it’s freezing! Even the well was frozen. It was a pain just to break through the surface ice. Looks like the lid’s gonna cover us today.”
The man carried the barrel to the far end of the hallway and emptied it into an urn that was there. Those who lived through extremely cold winters had to worry constantly about water when temperatures started to drop. Having to stress over water when there was so much snow was pretty ridiculous, all things considered.
“The lid’s going cover us?”
“Oh, we say that ’round here when snow’s about to cover everything up. It only takes a day for the whole landscape to turn pure white.”
“I see.”
“Oh, yeah, you want anything? I can prepare my guests some breakfast.. it’ll take a bit of time, though.”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself over breakfast. To be honest, we brought back a lot of food from the tavern last night.”
The bar had been so boisterous that the town’s night patrol even came around. They ultimately had no choice but to pack up their leftovers and leave. Each of the dishes were top-quality cuisine, so it would still make for a delicious breakfast after being reheated on the fireplace.
“Hahaha! Such good mutton isn’t easy to come by. It’d be a terrible waste if no one ate it.”
“Indeed! Oh, right, might I trouble you for some water, though?”
“Of course, of course. Hmm.. right, the water in that metal jug must have frozen, eh? I’ll bring a crate of sawdust upstairs in a bit. If you keep a jug of water in that it won’t freeze up as quickly.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Lawrence headed back to his room after receiving a more down-to-earth clay jug of water from the innkeeper, thinking that “being covered by a lid” was quite an apt description for a snowy day. He recalled a mercenary saying something similar one night, as they drank cheap liquor to stave off the cold at a cheap lodge.
If one must wage war, they should wage it in the north where all pain and sadness, no matter how great, will eventually be buried by the snow.
Snowflakes tended to bring melancholy with them wherever they fell. He opened the door to their room with a wry smile.
“Oh? You’re up, are–”
He cut himself off when he noticed that the mood in the room demanded his silence. On her bed sat Holo, silently looking out the window. She just sat there staring straight ahead; if not for the puffs of white breath that escaped her lips, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say she looked like a clay statue.
She was still staring out of the window like that even after he’d closed the door behind him. There was still wood burning in the fireplace, but he added some more before placing the water jug on the table and approaching Holo’s bedside.
“It is snowing.”
She spoke without turning her head. He followed her gaze before replying “yeah” and seating himself next to her. She continued staring outside. She sat neither cross-legged nor hugging her knees, but like someone frozen in a particular instant of time as they silently peered out of a window.
Frigid air was pouring in through the open window. Sighing lightly, Lawrence put his hand on her head. Her beautiful hair was frozen into cold strands. It was all too obvious what the snow was reminding her of, so instead of hugging her tightly he simply sat next to her.
Spice & Wolf X (DWT) Page 4
