Wolf & Parchment, Volume 1

by Isuna Hasekura

  Col had joined them on their extraordinary journey and assisted them in grand, dizzying adventures. Just recalling those memories stirred his excitement, though plenty of his experiences were terrifying as well.

  But the biggest surprise after being swept up in their story did not come from the heart-pounding, blood-pumping moments. It was what he saw accompanying them in their life after their happily ever after.

  He was astonished at their continued life of happiness, and he could do nothing but laugh.

  “So how far are you going to go? You said Svernel for now, right?” The captain named a town that lay to the west down the river, then south by land—a town that had long prospered from trade of furs and amber.

  “I will first gather information about my journey there. After that, I plan to head to Lenos.”

  “Oh, Lenos! I know that town. It’s on a big river with ships always coming and going! I’ve heard that means plenty of checkpoints, too.”

  Col knew it well. He had met Lawrence and Holo at one of those very checkpoints along the waterway.

  “I see. What are you going to do there? Craftwork? Doesn’t seem likely…Trade, then?”

  “No.” He shook his head a little and looked up at the sky, swearing an oath to the presence that should be there. “I want to become a clergyman.”

  “Well, I didn’t know you were a priest! My, my.”

  “But I’m still in training, so I don’t know if I can become one.”

  “Ha-ha-ha. Don’t say that—it sounds like you don’t believe in God’s protection.”

  That was true.

  “But see, isn’t the Church involved in a big brouhaha with the Kingdom of Winfiel right now?”

  The captain lowered the pole deep into the river, and the front of the boat turned to avoid a large rock. The mountains around Nyohhira contained no open fields with natural vistas. Snow piled high on the sheer cliffs, and even farther up, deer stared down at them in wonder.

  “You know quite a lot.”

  “Rivers carry not just water, but information as well.”

  Apparently, the captain’s show of knowledge was deliberate. He was a cheerful person.

  The river met the ocean west of here, and the Kingdom of Winfiel was a large island nation to the southwest of that. It was famous for wool and, lately, a flourishing ship manufacturing industry.

  It had been a few years since the beginning of the dispute between the kingdom and the pope who led the Church overseeing the world’s faith.

  “And they say the commotion started all because of taxes, right? That’s directly relevant to people who work in transport, like me. You hear about it even if you don’t want to.”

  When a boat sailed downriver, it would pass through the lands of many lords. Every checkpoint the captain had to pass meant a tax, and there could be fifty or more along a big river. In some places, there were over a hundred.

  In addition, though lords only charged tolls for their own territory, the Church could levy taxes in every place its teachings spread, which effectively meant the entire world. These collections were called “tithes.”

  “If we could avoid paying tithes, it would be a big help for us. What’s more, those funds were originally gathered for the fight against pagans. There’s no reason to collect it anymore since that war is over. We owe it to the king of Winfiel for speaking up.”

  Taxes for any reason were always unpopular. There was no reason to speak ill of a king who wished to get rid of one.

  “And look at how the pope treats a ruler who makes sense! Boy, I’m really rooting for the king of Winfiel…,” the captain said before suddenly closing his mouth. He seemed to remember that his passenger wished to work as a holy man. “Sorry about that. I don’t mean to speak badly about your aspirations.”

  “No,” Col said shortly with a little smile. “I agree with you.”

  “Oh?”

  He narrowed his eyes—not because of the captain’s puzzled stare, but because of the cool, clear wind that blew from downstream.

  “I can’t believe that, in order to force the payment of taxes, the pope ordered the kingdom to suspend all religious practices without consultation.”

  His white breath grew even whiter, likely from his anger. This suspension was an order from the pope, which meant all those who served the Church in that area were without work.

  “For three years now, there have been no baptisms, no weddings between people who love each other, and no funerals for the cherished deceased in the kingdom. They are all important ceremonies in life that the clergy administer, and the pope has obstructed them all. I cannot see how forcing us to pay taxes to earn God’s good grace is in accordance to the Lord’s will. I am uneducated and powerless, but…”

  He gripped the wooden crest of the Church that always hung around his neck and lay against his chest.

  “I wish to help in correcting these corrupted teachings of God.”

  In order to save the Kingdom of Winfiel from the arrogant pope, who neglected the salvation of souls for three years all because of money—and so he could rectify the divine teachings—Col would have to fight. That was why he left on his journey.

  There would be hardships. There would be suffering. But he had learned much thus far, and he had even come to meet Lawrence and his wife Holo, the miraculous pair from a fairy tale. He could do it. There was no doubt.

  He wanted to bestow at least a few smiles and some happiness upon this irrational, cruel world.

  He stared beyond the river and vowed to himself once again.

  God, give me strength and guidance.

  He closed his eyes and felt a strong wind, as though an angel was stroking his cheek.

  “Haaaah…”

  When he heard the captain sigh behind him, he abruptly came back to earth.

  Col’s face flushed—he was barely even a priest’s apprentice.

  “Er, well, that is what I wish anyhow…”

  “Oh, well, I was certain that it was because you were jealous of all the clergymen eating and drinking at the hot springs while you were working in Nyohhira.”

  The captain spoke bluntly, but there was truth behind his assumption, too. In order to visit such a remote mountain place, one needed enough funds to travel and a job that could be abandoned for months at a time without trouble. Those with both were mostly retired heads of large companies, nobles whose governance was going smoothly, and high-ranking clergymen.

  “Of course, many wish to work in the Church for that reason. It is reprehensible, though…”

  “It’s not unusual for a priest to have lots of ‘nieces’ and ‘nephews.’”

  Though the captain appeared to be implying something, it was not as if the underlying meaning was his own opinion. It was more like an open secret. Priests were required to stay celibate, so of course, they could not have children without wives. Therefore, they had so-called nieces and nephews instead. Not even the pope was an exception to this—one of his “nieces” had been married off to the Kingdom of Winfiel, so these corrupt practices were growing commonplace.

  “I constantly wish for the world to be a more honest, straightforward place. It isn’t, so even the pope throws his weight around for the sake of money,” Col said with a sigh, and the captain responded as though searching for the right words.

  “So what? You mean you’ve never laid a single finger on a dancing girl in Nyohhira?” he asked, as though such a thing was impossible. Col merely responded with pride.

  “Of course I haven’t.”

  “Well, that’s…”

  The captain was at a loss.

  Col was used to this kind of response. There were very few real priests who upheld their vows of abstinence. The ones who did as they should were monks who lived in remote monasteries, where it was a struggle to even make contact with a woman.

  “Even if I wanted to break the vows of asceticism, I don’t think I could,” Col said with a wry smile, and the captain finally smiled, too,
though uncomfortably.

  Dancers and daughters of musicians did call out to him sometimes, though they were only teasing. And because of that, he most likely could not say that he had ever needed to expend much effort upholding his vows.

  “However, I think we should maintain what has been established.”

  Col straightened his posture as he spoke.

  “Hmm. Yeah,” the captain murmured keenly and again changed the direction of the ship’s bow. “That being said, the world is like a river. You can never go as straight as you like.” He turned around, and the expression on the captain’s face was not smug, nor did it sneer at the ideals of a young man.

  It was that of a hermit who had weathered a great many things and tried to play them off calmly.

  “But those periodic twists and turns give fish a place to live.”

  He must have spent plenty of time lost in thought while working as a ship captain, because his words were actually quite profound. In fact, a famous theologist had reached a similar truth after being surrounded by destruction.

  “I think I understand what you mean.”

  “Of course, I don’t mean to criticize anyone’s ideals. Especially not one who wants to be a priest. But if you stick to one path the whole time, there’s lots of things you’ll never know. You gain experience because you make detours.”

  Col honestly agreed.

  Still, he could not see where the captain’s explanation was headed.

  “Um…in summary?”

  For some reason, the man rubbed his nose awkwardly.

  “Mm. Well, you know. I see that the purpose and spirit of your journey are remarkable, but…Well, I didn’t think you’d be so strict about it, so maybe I’ve just been a useless busybody…”

  “Huh?”

  It happened right after he asked.

  “Well, there’s no turning back at this point. You can come out now,” the captain said to the cargo. He was not looking at the pile of furs, but rather the barrels in front of them. And then, bam! The lid of one barrel flew off.

  “Whoops.” The captain skillfully caught the lid.

  Sticking out from the barrel was a pair of skinny legs shod with rough traveling shoes. Ignoring the captain’s troubled smile, Col could not close his gaping mouth.

  “Ooh! Ooooooh!”

  There came a groan, and a hand gripped the brim as the barrel shuddered.

  Just as it was about to topple over, a single girl popped out from inside.

  “Pee-yoooooou!”

  “Myuri?!”

  The girl springing from the barrel scattered the mountain of furs with a kick and jumped into Col’s chest. She had strangely colored hair, like flecks of silver mixed into ash, and a slender frame. At a little older than ten years, she was still too juvenile to be called a young lady. She was full of enough energy to bowl him over, and the boat rocked back and forth. The only reason it did not tip over was most likely thanks to the captain’s skill.

  “Ah, M-Myuri, wh-why—?”

  The words, You’re here, and then, You smell burned, were caught in his throat and did not come out.

  “Why nothing!”

  The girl, Myuri, yelled with all her might, and with tears welling in her eyes, perhaps because of the awful smell in the barrel, she looked down at him.

  “Take me with you!”

  Tears more heated than the hot springs rolled down her cheeks. But with Myuri’s sudden emergence from the barrel, the undeniable implication that she and the captain had worked together, and that now the boat could not turn back—all these things had to be addressed later. The emotions of the girl in front of him seemed liable to explode at any moment, and her ashen hair was already wiggling.

  He had no other choice. He hurriedly pulled her into a hug and hid her small head in his arms.

  “All right! I said all right!”

  Calm down!

  Then, she broke loose from his arms, and her face snapped up toward his.

  “Really?! Really?!”

  “Yes, really, so please calm down—”

  Your ears and tail are sticking out!

  Ignoring all the screaming in his heart, Myuri opened her eyes wide and grinned with satisfaction, pulling him into a hug like a wolf devouring its prey.

  “I love you, Brother! Thank you!”

  The beast’s tail that was the same color as her hair swished back and forth quite enthusiastically, betraying her tremendous delight.

  His face blanched, and he eyed the captain, who was sitting at the stern of the boat and opening a small wine cask, thankfully not paying attention to them. He must have been relieved that the secret was out or had oddly taken a hint.

  In any case, he had to do something about the situation now. The story of the peddler and the wolf was a true story, and this girl was their only daughter. Normally, she could show and hide her ears and tail at will and dressed like a typical person, but when she was excited or surprised, her hidden ears and tail had the troubling quirk of revealing themselves regardless of her intentions.

  “Myuri, Myuri…!”

  “Heh-heh, eh-heh-heh…Hmm?”

  She could smile so happily even when her tears were not yet dry.

  It was a good thing to be so rich in emotion.

  But he still wanted her to be a bit more thoughtful.

  “They’re out, they’re coming out…!”

  After hearing Col’s whispers, Myuri finally noticed. Like a cat washing its face, she hurriedly and vigorously rubbed her head. Once her tail had also vanished, it appeared they had managed to avoid revealing anything to the captain. Relieved, Col relaxed his neck, and the back of his head fell with a thud onto the bottom of the boat.

  And then he sat straight up again.

  “Myuri.”

  “Hmm?”

  The expression she showed him was clearly forced. It was a woman’s smile that she had started making whenever his voice filled with anger.

  “Move.”

  “…Okay.”

  More reasonable than usual, her pleasant mask disappeared, as though she thought she could not hide on such a small boat or as though she had made a promise.

  “Honestly…,” he said, sighing, as he was about to pull himself up, when Myuri held out her hand.

  Together they put away the scattered furs and returned the barrel Myuri was hiding in to its previous spot.

  It was originally a barrel for tree resin, so it reeked of something burnt. Myuri smelled like she had been dropped into the ashes of a hearth. The wolf’s blood that flowed in her veins gave her an exceptional sense of smell; if she had endured such misery, then she must have been determined.

  What was more, this girl was the daughter of Lawrence and Holo. She would not run sobbing to a bear’s den if she was not taken along on a journey.

  “And?” Col asked after everything had been put back into place.

  “Eh-heh-heh…I ran away from home.”

  Myuri shrugged as she spoke, playing meek when she actually was not, ever a tomboy.

  They could not turn the boat back at this point. The river flowing out from the rugged mountains was surrounded on both sides by tall cliffs and, at best, rocky stretches. Of course, even if they were able to berth there, it was unlikely that there would be proper roads. Though travelers could follow the mountain paths from the checkpoints that the lords built, some would lead away from Nyohhira. Furthermore, winter still tightly gripped the region, leaving snow piled high and the weather ready to take a turn for the worse in an instant. A lone girl could never endure those conditions with such skinny legs. It was clear they could not send her back right away, so Col sat facing Myuri and sighing deeply.

  “What are you wearing?”

  As Myuri sat properly and patiently, her expression suddenly brightened.

  “Isn’t it cute? Miss Helen made them for me. She said that everyone in the south dresses like this.”

  The name Myuri mentioned belonged to a popular dancer and custome
r at the bathhouse. The girl before him was wearing a rabbit fur cape on her shoulders, a decorated shirt with puffy shoulders, and a corset of bearskin (or something of the like). If his knowledge was correct, the outfit was similar to what the court nobles wore several decades ago.

  But the greatest cause of his headache was further down.

  “It’s too bad I’m not as thick as Miss Helen…Eh-heh-heh, still, what do you think?”

  Her slim legs were wrapped in two close-fitting tubes of linen that had been stitched together. The short trousers she wore over them were cut to a daring height—they were meant to show off everything below them. She was even sporting her rough traveling shoes, not for any practical purpose, but likely to emphasize her slender limbs.

  “Well, I’m not sure where to begin, but it is not proper for a young girl to show so much of her legs.”

  “I’m not showing anything. These cover everything to my toenails!” Myuri insisted, tugging on the embroidered fabric covering her thin legs. Her gestures were oddly suggestive, and Col involuntarily cleared his throat.

  “I am not talking about covering your skin.”

  Her appearance was a far cry from that of the plain village girls with their hair in braids and their linen skirts and aprons.

  “First, these are not travel appropriate. You’re freezing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m okay. Miss Helen and the others said that beauty is pain!” Myuri claimed with a big grin, but upon closer observation, Col could see that her lips were pale and her legs were shivering like a baby deer’s.

  He heaved a deep sigh, reaching out to the stack of furs, and began piling them on her lap.

  “I was so relieved when you finally stopped digging up hibernating frogs and throwing them into the baths and setting traps for rabbits and squirrels, but…”

  Myuri used to be so energetic she drew attention even when she was together with the village boys. Then one day, she suddenly became more feminine, which relieved Col a little. Now she was making him worry in all-new ways.