Town of Strife I

by Isuna Hasekura

  Copyright

  SPICE AND WOLF, Volume 8: The Town of Strife I

  ISUNA HASEKURA

  Cover art by Jyuu Ayakura

  Translation: Paul Starr

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  OOKAMI TO KOSHINRYO Vol. 8

  © ISUNA HASEKURA 2008

  Edited by ASCII MEDIA WORKS

  First published in Japan in 2008 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.

  English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2013 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First Yen On eBook Edition: March 2017

  Originally published in paperback in April 2013 by Yen On.

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  ISBN: 978-0-316-55907-2

  E3-20170206-JV-PC

  PROLOGUE

  The moon hid behind clouds, and darkness covered the area.

  An occasional cold wind blew, gently ruffling her hair.

  Contained in a lamp made from bent wire, a tallow flame flickered uncertainly.

  It was cold, bitterly cold.

  The sound of ice crushing under weight accompanied the progress of the fully loaded wagon.

  No one opened their mouths. The entire party remained silent as they advanced.

  Beside the wagon bed, the unsteady lamplight flickered, illuminating the horse’s thick neck and the back of the horseman who walked ahead, holding the reins.

  It was like a procession of corpses.

  There are many such stories.

  But the difference here was that in the line there was one who stood stock-still.

  The figure held no lamp, but rather a staff, perhaps to beat either the horse—or its master.

  That single person stopped and looked.

  And in the deathly, expressionless procession, only one face conveyed surprise.

  “Good evening.”

  The abrupt words echoed loudly, perhaps because of the frigid air.

  Had one crouched down and scooped up a handful of the gravel underfoot, it would have been indistinguishable from the ice itself.

  The individual to whom the greeting was directed was a grizzled veteran of a merchant, one who would meet even the most unexpected circumstance with calm.

  And yet it took even her some time to grasp the situation.

  “A swift horse, eh?” she asked, in such a way that made it clear he knew it was not the case.

  Since no merchant ever shows his entire hand, he did not deign to answer the question.

  She shook her head there in the shadows.

  The wind blew.

  In the darkness, the caravan of wagons quietly proceeded beneath the light cast by the torches affixed to the city wall’s entrance, as if heading for the gallows.

  In truth, she would’ve liked to use her advantage to its maximum effect.

  But reality is smaller and sadder than a play. It often happens that one has no strength remaining when one needs it most.

  It was not as if she had reached this place by some magic after all.

  “Let us talk in a warm inn, shall we?” She spoke in place of the others, who were too exhausted to open their mouths.

  “Miss Eve.”

  Her counterpart was a grizzled merchant.

  To her practical proposal, he gave an equally practical reply.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Mmph…mmn…”

  She moved her mouth, chewing for a moment, swallowing quickly, then opening it again.

  When the spoon delivered her another bite of porridge, she quickly bit down.

  Occasionally she would chew on the spoon like a teething puppy, despite her age.

  This “puppy” had eaten two wooden bowls of the bread crust–thickened porridge, at which point she finally seemed sated. She licked her lips clean, then sighed. As she reclined on her side atop two large pillows grandly stuffed with wool, there was something about her that seemed distinctly like a princess at rest.

  But sadly, her physique was far too thin at the moment for her to be called regal.

  Having had the great honor of embracing that body, the man’s impression was that even if she wasn’t actually that thin, at the very least he could not deny that she looked quite sinewy.

  No, he revised his opinion—what made her look particularly shabby today was that in a rare occurrence, her hair was sleep mussed and tangled.

  And also perhaps because the swelling in her face made her appear extremely displeased.

  The shabby princess’s name was Holo.

  And, of course, Holo was not a princess, although there was every possibility she had once been called a queen, perhaps somewhere in the far north.

  Atop Holo’s head sprouted a pair of proud, pointed wolf ears, and from her waist grew a majestic puff of a tail.

  Though she currently appeared to be a teenage girl, her true form was that of an enormous wolf, large enough to eat a full-grown man in a single bite. She called herself a wisewolf and had lived for centuries among the wheat, guaranteeing a good harvest.

  Yet despite her lineage, which was as proud as any dynasty of kings, when he saw her like this, he could understand why the villagers who had prayed to her for a good harvest had finally ceased to rely on her.

  It was true, he had to admit, that her vaunted dignity and authority vanished once she had him feed her, her hair still bed mussed.

  That said, the idea that she had opened her heart to him enough that she didn’t mind looking unsightly in his presence held a certain appeal.

  Lawrence could only regard it as a telling action on her part.

  After all, while this was the second time she had indulged in having him feed her, he still had no memory of her ever thanking him.

  This time around, she acted as if the act was the most natural thing in the world, and once she finished eating, she belched loudly, then twitched her ears. Her gaze was distant. Perhaps she was remembering something.

  A moment later, her brow furrowed in displeasure.

  “Who would ever conceive of a wisewolf complaining of muscle pain?” she asked as he tidied the dishes, her eyes returning to the here and now. “For me to be so frail, you must think me…ngh…,” said Holo, trying to lean her head forward and failing.

  Throughout the previous day, Holo had sprinted across the wilderness carrying Lawrence on her back with one other, the wandering boy student, Col.

  Perhaps she was happy at being able to run her heart out in the sunlight, but when they’d arrived at the inn, she was so exhausted she couldn’t climb the stairs to their room—and yet up unti
l she fell asleep, her eyes had glittered with a strange excitement.

  She had scarcely rested while running, waiting for Lawrence and Col—who merely clung to her back—to cry out for a break.

  Holo, in her endless desire to run, had seemed less like a prudent, careful wolf and more like a dog released onto a field. Lawrence had meant to be sarcastic about it, but when he praised her fleetness of foot, her faced swelled with a pride unlike any she had ever shown before.

  In her huge wolf form, she was covered in coarse hair that seemed composed of silver wire, and when she sat proudly, he felt a presence from her that was truly worthy of the label “god.”

  But when she was so genuinely pleased at his sarcastic praise, he couldn’t help but let slip a rueful grin.

  Holo had been worshipped for centuries as a harvest god, so she probably couldn’t help how much she enjoyed expressing herself with childlike openness—and unless Lawrence interpreted her actions in this favorable light, it would have been easy to forget entirely that she was in fact a wisewolf.

  But, of course, he knew from their travels thus far that this was simply her true disposition.

  So Lawrence praised when he could.

  If he’d said any more, her busy tail might have wagged itself right off.

  Thanks to her efforts, Holo had appeared so poorly this morning that it had been difficult to look at her, and her constitution was so ravaged that Lawrence could practically hear it. He recalled a truly serious illness.

  When it came out that she was merely sore, he was so relieved that he wanted to yell at her for having made him think otherwise.

  After all, she could not lift her arms or turn her head, and her back hurt too much for her to stand—the very image of a very sick person, indeed.

  What distinguished her from a sick person was her entirely healthy appetite.

  “Ah, well, I suppose it’s what comes of running so far while carrying two people on your back.”

  “Aye, ’tis true I ran a bit too hard.”

  The only parts of her body she could properly move were her ears and tail.

  But despite her terrible condition, she did not appear particularly regretful.

  Even if she had come to greatly enjoy this girl’s form, perhaps she simply felt her true wolf form fit her better.

  When he thought about it like that, perhaps one of the sources of her displeasure during their journeys thus far was simple frustration at being unable to freely travel in her true form.

  “Still,” she said as Lawrence considered it. She yawned slightly before continuing, “’Tis shameful to be in such pain that I cannot get out of bed. ’Twould have been less so if those who rode on my back were also unable to rise in the morning.”

  She could not move her body, but her mouth worked quite well.

  Holo smiled maliciously, but her attitude was completely artificial and thus hard to take seriously.

  If Col had been there, he probably would have been at least moderately flustered, but fortunately he was out.

  “If you’re so much wiser and farseeing such that I should just leave everything to you, then perhaps I should just go ahead and follow your lead. Except I trust you haven’t forgotten last night, have you?” asked Lawrence, and for once Holo did not refute him.

  Quite the contrary—she bit her lip in frustration and turned away.

  She seemed to remember the previous night’s failure all too well.

  “Honestly. Forget following your lead—I’ve got to keep a tighter grip on your reins. Just who did you say was whose driver again?”

  It seemed like a good opportunity to make Holo consider the consequences of her actions, Lawrence thought as he pressed her.

  The previous day, Holo’s speed had compelled them to disembark from the boat heading down the Roam River, and they arrived in the port town of Kerube in half a day. Had they stayed on the boat, the same distance would have taken two full days.

  Such speed was swifter than any horse they could have hired.

  There was, in fact, a reason they had traveled so quickly.

  They were pursuing stories of the bones of a great wolf found in a village in the mountainous Roef region. They had no proof, but it seemed likely they came from a wisewolf not unlike Holo, and there was the possibility that the Church authorities would attempt to desecrate the remains in order to display their own might.

  That was not something Holo could abide.

  Lawrence was not so arbitrary as to change his initial plan and head down the river to chase that story for that reason alone—but he was likewise not honest enough to say aloud the true reason. For his part, Lawrence was using the excuse that he wanted them to end their travels with a smile, but if he had asked Holo, there was no doubt that she would have prepared a different excuse.

  In the process of gathering information regarding the wolf bones, they had discovered that among those pursuing the relics were Church authorities in the Roam River region.

  And that was why they had come to the port town of Kerube—to speak with Eve, who undoubtedly knew the Roam River region front to back.

  Eve, once a noblewoman and now a ruined merchant, had once conspired with the Church in Lenos, so there was no doubt her information network was deep. Also, there had been the fur incident in Lenos, where she had sunk a boat in the river simply to block it as part of her fur-export scheme, which gave Lawrence ample ingredients with which to question her.

  Thus, Lawrence, Col, and Holo had disembarked from Ragusa’s vessel, and the former two had climbed upon Holo’s back in pursuit of Eve.

  But they had miscalculated. After arriving at the ship they had pursued for some time, they found that Eve was not aboard.

  However, they did find Arold, the master of the inn in Lenos where Lawrence and Holo had stayed. That was enough to tell them that the ship was somehow involved with Eve, but strangely, the large volume of furs that it should have been carrying was nowhere to be found.

  There was no mistaking the fact that Eve had packed up the furs and was trying to reach Kerube.

  Which meant there was a high probability that she had switched to an overland route midway through her journey. Even had she used a ship in order to transport the goods quickly, if the distance was not too far, it was hardly as if other methods were not available.

  Supposing—either through good luck or as part of her plan—she had managed to procure some horses, the choice to switch to an overland route midway would not be so very strange.

  On the contrary, given that a vessel had been sunk so as to block the following river traffic, it was obvious that the responsible party would be someone who had loaded that first ship with furs. Blithely toting her furs down the river was like loudly proclaiming herself to be the culprit, so switching to land travel would be a good way to avoid such suspicions.

  Lawrence thought about it and concluded that Eve was already en route to Kerube. Holo had wanted to interrogate Arold as to her destination, but Lawrence managed to rein her in and continue downriver.

  Around twilight, Holo had spotted a far-off caravan, confirming Lawrence’s theory.

  Eve led the line of horses.

  Lawrence and Holo got ahead of her and waited for her arrival at the entrance to the port town of Kerube.

  At that moment, Eve’s face looked as if she had encountered the living corpse of someone she knew to be dead and buried.

  Eve entered Kerube with Lawrence and the others, her hair fluttering in the wind that was so cold it seemed to blow directly out of an ice cave. After a short discussion, they stayed at an inn she had recommended.

  The reunion took Eve completely by surprise, giving Lawrence the upper hand, but he could not help but conduct their brief conversation with a certain amount of sighing.

  Holo had changed back from a wolf into a girl, and though she still glared at him, she was too tired to properly speak.

  It was not as if Lawrence was unable to predict what would happen if Holo ente
red the same room as Eve, whom she had already quarreled with once in Lenos.

  However, he had not imagined that it would come to actual blows.

  “’Tis on account of your lukewarm disposition. Have you so easily forgotten just who ’twas that gave you that mark upon your face?” Holo emphasized her claim.

  “Surely you don’t think that criticizing another proves your own point valid, do you?”

  “Hmph…” Holo shut her mouth and pulled her chin in.

  She understood that she was the one in the wrong.

  Yet Lawrence understood full well the reason she was not quietly accepting that and apologizing.

  “I must hand it to Eve on that account. Faced with your threatening mien, she chose to withdraw rather than fight back.”

  Holo’s eyes shifted away from Lawrence.

  Left alone, Holo would have lunged at Eve right on the spot, but Lawrence had physically restrained her from doing so.

  Eve’s eyes had looked them over with a snakelike coldness, neither intimidated nor dismissive, and in the end, she had even smiled slightly.

  “It’s because she judged that picking a fight with us there held no profit for her.”

  “Oh, so now you’ll talk to me like a child who knows not loss from gain?” snapped Holo, closing her mouth. Her expression was more and more strained, as though a thousand times as many words were swirling about within her throat.

  Lawrence watched her, feeling rather exhausted.

  Looking at her ears made it obvious she wasn’t truly angry.

  So as to why she would have acted the way she did—

  “It’s because Eve could tell that your anger wasn’t rational, isn’t it? You were angry like a child is angry. All notions of profit aside.”

  In other words, Eve had realized she had tread upon a tail she should not have.

  If her opponent had been rationally angry, then Eve could have met her with reason, but trying to reason with an anger of passion would only have had the opposite effect. So Eve had meekly lowered her head.

  At which point, Holo, while still angry, had to acknowledge Eve’s sense and let her go.

  And yet she could not simply accept the situation.

  While logic required Holo to excuse Eve, it was no easy thing. Holo ground her teeth before Eve’s spell-like influence. To break the confrontation off required Lawrence to work some magic of his own.