Or else – were even men like Kieman part of Eve’s plots?
No, that couldn’t be, Lawrence told himself.
“Yes, quite… he’s a great merchant, as I recall.”
“He certainly is. There’s a gifted trader in every guild, and he’s the one,” said an animated Eve.
“So, why do you mention this Mr. Kieman?”
“He’s no one to be trifled with, and he’s been chasing me obsessively. Can’t blame me for feeling threatened, eh?”
Eve’s narrowed eyes looked distinctly wolf-like, perfectly suited to a silvery frozen forest.
“… Quite.”
“Anyway, he’s a formidable man, no question. He’s burned me several times over.”
Eve looked down at the table, a thin smile playing over her lips.
Memories let one smile even at unhappy things.
But Eve did not have time to waste on introspection.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“If it comes down to that, what would you say to dropping the guild?”
The notion struck Lawrence as more absurd than surprising. “Where would a merchant who’d left his guild go?” he asked.
Membership brought an expanded business network, various rights and privileges, name recognition, all the various profits that came along with those things.
It also provided the peace of mind of knowing you had comrades all across the land.
Leaving those protections was hardly different from choosing bankruptcy.
“You should come work for me,” said Eve, fingering the corner of the parchment.
“For you?”
“Yes. Come work for me.”
Lawrence remembered the words Reynolds had used: “Bolan Company.”
Did such a thing truly exist? Lawrence wondered, as Eve’s gaze became distant, and she pointed to her own mouth and spoke.
“I’m locked up in here on the orders of the guy who gave me this wound,” she said, indicating the corner of her mouth with a finger – a finger that was feminine, but somehow differently than Holo’s.
It was slender and long, but somehow sturdy as well.
Like a sailor preparing to resist the song of the mermaids, Lawrence readied himself to pour lead into his ears.
“He’s the grandson of one of the landowners that originally signed the delta marketplace contracts. He’s two years younger than me, but his wits and drive for wealth are about the same as mine. And he holds them about as dearly as I do.”
Another cynical smile.
Lawrence wondered if the loneliness he saw in her face was just an illusion.
“He dreams of getting out of this town. Talks with a straight face of getting the narwhal and using the money to head south and found a great trading company. ‘With you I could outwit the old men,’ he raged, and struck me with his left hand, then grabbed me by the shoulder.”
Then Eve paused, almost laughing softly, but Lawrence saw her cover it up with a deep breath.
But the smile she swallowed became her flesh and blood, and then it showed purposefully on her face.
“There’s no way not to betray this, don’t you think?”
From Eve’s mouth came terrifying words.
She was wooing Lawrence to convince him to betray the trade guild and collect information about the narwhal.
And that in turn was to help the landowners regain their power in Kerube.
But that was only on the surface. The son of one of the land-owners was attempting to have the creature for himself, so he could abandon Kerube and go south.
And Eve was saying she would betray that son.
She faced Lawrence.
She spoke. She, whom he had already betrayed.
“Kieman is trying to use me.”
Lawrence’s head couldn’t keep up with Eve’s words.
One by one they piled up too high, and he couldn’t make sense of them.
“He knows that wayward son is madly in love with me, you see. So he’ll contrive to deceive the son through me.”
It was like being blindfolded and led onto a battlefield.
Eve was painting a picture with the things Lawrence didn’t know, with the things he couldn’t know, and with the things whose truth he couldn’t possibly discern.
And even if the picture were explained to him, he wouldn’t understand it.
It was impossible to understand.
“His goal is to choke the life out of the landowners. Most likely, he’ll try to get them to sign a contract that gives him the rights to the land in exchange for handing over the narwhal. The titles will go to Kieman, and the narwhal will be stolen by the son. You would think it absurd, no? Well, just watch me give the plan to that wayward son. When’s the actual answer, you ask?”
To avoid suffocating her audience, Eve posed a question even her audience could answer.
“You’ve gotten past the love affair.”
She nodded, satisfied, perhaps because Lawrence had not gotten out of his seat.
“Kieman, of course, understands why I’m thinking about all of this. The old men hate change. We’d be best rid of these circumstances, but for long years there’s been no way to change them. That’s true for both the north and south sides. And it’s also true that the younger generation is frustrated. I’ll bet Kieman’s been going mad trying to figure something out, some way to overturn the strange balance of Kerube and reform the town, along the way outwitting the other companies and trade guilds and making a real name for himself. Cleverly, rationally, and for his own reasons.”
“Or at least that’s the picture the trap you’ve surely readied is using.”
It was all Lawrence could say.
Eve showed Lawrence both palms in a gesture of surrender.
He knew perfectly well he was being made fun of.
“I have no way of verifying the truth of these things you’ve said. So on what do you suppose I should found my decision?”
The wolf of the Roam River territory smiled and answered, “Your past experiences.”
“I’ve been deceived before.”
“Indeed, you have. But a wise merchant said something, once.” It was somehow odd that her curled lip was not baring a sharp fang. “Suspect deception, but be deceived,” said Eve, and chuckled.
It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if she were drunk.
No, she surely was, for this strange exchange of illusions within illusions.
Lawrence prepared himself and stood up from his chair.
It would only be dangerous to remain here.
“I assume your answer is ‘nay’?”
Despite a conversation for which she should have been so drunk she would’ve been unsteady on her feet, Eve’s voice was as cold and clear as a winter stream.
Hence the cold shiver down his back, Lawrence was sure.
“Kieman will most likely ask for your cooperation, since you’re in such an exceedingly convenient position. And by the way…” said Eve, smiling happily. “Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company wants to use my connections. If I wish him to, I’m sure I can have him whisper the name of the person he wishes to do business with to me. You were following the stories of the wolf bones, weren’t you?”
Eve Bolan, the merchant and onetime noblewoman.
Lawrence’s hand unconsciously went for the knife at his belt.
“If you think I’m unarmed, you’re quite mistaken.” The smile disappeared from Eve’s face.
She’d claimed he wasn’t listening, but there was a guard with a sword standing watch outside the door. And he doubted he was some mere neighborhood ruffian.
And anyway, merchants best avoided sword fights.
Lawrence slowly pulled his hand away from the knife, gave a short bow, turned his back, and began to walk away.
Eve’s words came just as he was putting his hand to the door.
“You’ll regret it.”
The same words Kieman had said.
Lawrence cle
nched his teeth and opened the door.
There in the hallway, the guard leaned against the wall, eyes closed, just as before.
He looked as he passed by and saw the sword, clasp undone, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.
“Tell no one,” the guard said.
Lawrence didn’t nod, didn’t even reply, and not because the order somehow went without saying.
He couldn’t tell anyone.
He’d considered himself a full-fledged traveling merchant for many years now – long enough to know perfectly well just how small he was.
And yet he’d just glimpsed a piece of a terrifying structure.
A gamble with a truly unbelievable amount of money.
He couldn’t rid himself of the thought of it.
When he opened the front door of the building, a carriage was waiting, and it had been readied for Lawrence.
“Sir, please.”
On the opposite side of the driver were the three workers still cutting the hide.
And then Lawrence realized.
They were lookouts.
He accepted the proffered cloak and draped it low over his head as he climbed into the carriage.
He asked himself if he should seek Kieman’s protection. Given how much of her own hand Eve had shown, Lawrence couldn’t imagine that Kieman would leave him be.
Any deal in a market where the prices were unknown was best abandoned.
Lawrence was lost in contemplation, and before he knew it, he arrived at his inn’s rear entrance.
Forcing the strained muscles in his face to move, he thanked the driver, entering the inn and heaving a deep sigh.
The innkeeper’s face peeked in – he probably heard the door open and close – and Lawrence wordlessly returned the cloak. He must have looked terrible indeed, for the innkeeper offered him a drink, but Lawrence refused it and made straight for the room.
The best course of action would be to escape before they were sniffed out here and before Kieman turned serious.
But now that he knew for certain that the Jean Company was pursuing the tale, there was a possibility that he could use them in some other city to begin collecting information again.
Lawrence put his hand to the door and opened it.
What he needed to do now was protect his tiny boat from the approaching storm.
No picture could possibly have captured the look on his face in that moment.
“Something came for you,” said Holo.
She held up a sheet of parchment, and Lawrence knew at a glance what it was.
It had the seal of the Rowen Trade Guild.
The red wax impression of the seal seemed, without any exaggeration, like the signature of some demon.
Though his mouth went dry, he tried desperately to swallow.
The guild had long since discovered where he was staying.
Kieman was serious.
And everything Eve said was true.
Talk was continuing over Lawrence’s head.
The huge gears made a terrible grinding sound as they turned.
Afterword
It has been a while. This is Isuna Hasekura.
Just as the title suggests, this is the first volume of a two-volume story.
As to the question of why that is, answering it would take a book in and of itself, so I can’t say too much, but the major reason is that it’s impossible to tell how many pages a basic plot will require.
I planned to write only what was absolutely necessary, but it kept growing and growing.
With great effort, I managed to trim away pages and complete a first draft, but because there was so much of it and it was still a little messy, it wound up split into two volumes, and I did more editing on the second volume.
Which all means that my beautiful bimonthly publication schedule did not quite happen and a bit of a gap opened up, so hopefully you all will do me the favor of waiting a bit longer.
Lawrence should be really cool in the second volume.
At least, that’s what the plot says!
Incidentally, recently I ate something truly strange and now will report about it.
It was sashimi made from – I swear – the back fat of an Asiatic black bear.
The restaurant owner was an amazing hunter and had taken wild boars in Okinawa and deer in Nara, and prepared the game he took as dishes in his restaurant. Well, apparently, he was lying about the deer, but the boar was true.
So, the Asiatic black bear back fat.
According to what I’d heard in advance, it was said to be not unlike uma no tategami, or sashimi made from the tender neck meat of a horse, but when I actually tried it, it was like unsalted butter. It melted in my mouth immediately, and there was no odor at all, only a slight fatty sweetness, and lacking any actual meat, it really was just like eating butter.
There on a side street surrounded by high-rise buildings, sitting in front of the shop on folding chairs and using a small refrigerator filled with beer as a table, it really was a very rustic-seeming situation, which made things only more delicious.
Now that I’ve talked about it, it’s made me want yakiniku for dinner, so I think I’ll do that tonight.
And it looks like I’ve filled the page, so we’ll leave it at that.
I’ll see you again in the next volume.
– Isuna Hasekura
SUMMARY OF TOWN OF STRIFE I
Seeking more information about the wolf bones, Lawrence, Holo, and Col arrive in Kerube. With a letter of introduction from Eve, they visit the Jean Company, which is rumored to be connected with the Debau Company – but Reynolds, the owner of the Jean Company, seems to think the wolf bones are a mere superstition.
Later, in the delta marketplace, Lawrence happens upon Eve and learns of the situation between the north and south sides of Kerube. Eve has been pressed by the northern landlords into solving their territory dispute and has learned that Reynolds’s business profits are being stolen by those same landlords. Concluding that Reynolds is himself still searching for the wolf bones, Lawrence goes to see Kieman, the head of the local Rowen Trade Guild branch – but having done so, he becomes torn between trusting the Guild or Eve.
Meanwhile, a legendary sea-beast is brought ashore – a narwhal. Eve contacts Lawrence and tells him of her plan to steal the narwhal away from the northern landlords. As Lawrence agonizes over what to do, he receives a letter from Kieman…
Intermission
The human is a weak creature indeed.
It has neither fangs nor claws nor wings on which to flee.
So to protect themselves, humans must use their minds – technology, strategy, or…
Every creature, human or animal, shares a common method of self-defense.
And that is to form groups.
A single sheep is weak. But a flock of thousands need not flinch at the attack of a few wolves.
By functioning as part of that group, a single animal can find safety, surviving to leave behind descendants.
Humans are the same; they come together to live in groups, and those groups eventually came to be called villages, then cities, as they drove back the darkness of the forest.
But it is also the way of the world that groups formed to protect their members will struggle and fight with other such groups – for a group created for self-defense must necessarily regard outsiders as enemies.
It is like a single great beast, and for a single powerless creature to receive the benefit of that beast’s claws and fangs, they must think of themselves first as part of that creature rather than as a single individual.
When the beast turns right, they must turn right. When it runs left, they must run left. And when it wishes to eat fowl, a fowl they must hunt.
Even if that fowl happens to be their own beloved songbird.
The human is a weak creature indeed.
Here in this world where the gods have long remained hidden in the mists, humans cannot survive on their own.
S
o to protect themselves from the darkness of the forest, they become a single beast surrounded by walls of earth and stone.
Even though they know full well that having borrowed that great beast’s power even once, they will never escape its yoke.
Betrayal is never tolerated.
Such is the only way to survive the storms of fate that buffet the world – by the bonds of blood and solidarity.
Chapter Four
“We must leave this place,” Lawrence said bluntly. “And quickly, too.”
He entered the room with long strides. On the table were the coins, the puzzle of which Col had solved, and Lawrence gathered them into his coin purse as though he were making a sand-pile on a beach.
The travelers’ life was one of casting off needless things.
Everything they needed was already packed in a burlap bag in the room’s corner, and if flight was necessary, they could simply cinch the bag up, shoulder it, and run – it was far from rare to be attacked during the night, after all.
“Come, you.”
Lawrence looked up at the voice.
It was the surprised face of his traveling companion, Holo.
“What’s this, then?”
In her hand was a letter written on a single piece of parchment.
Inscribed on it was a statement in curt, undecorated letters, along with a bloodred wax seal in the bottom-right corner.
It was addressed to none other than Lawrence, and the sender was the Rowen Trade Guild. For a traveling merchant like Lawrence, whose livelihood was ever uncertain, the group of comrade merchants was most encouraging.
Its seal was a powerful shield in any town and could be a powerful weapon as well.
And the guild had sent Lawrence a letter at the inn where he stayed on the north side of Kerube.
“‘We seek now a brave merchant who fears neither witch nor alchemist. In consideration of both the wealth and progress of the guild, by all means, please… signed, Lud Kieman.’”
Holo read the letter’s contents aloud smoothly and then looked to Lawrence curiously.
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