Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  Lawrence wasn’t participating in the pair’s operational planning, instead just reporting his observations. Yet mysteriously, this didn’t bother him at all.

  “Well, shall we move?” Kieman asked, at which Eve nodded, as did Lawrence.

  The plan to monopolize the narwhal was no longer viable, but that didn’t mean there still wasn’t profit to be had.

  Simply put, Reynolds now figured into Eve and Kieman’s discussion over how to divide the proceeds from the narwhal. Of course, whether that was voluntary or compulsory was not a matter of debate.

  “Here. Your last job.” Eve couldn’t wait for the ink to dry, so she scattered sand on the parchment before rolling it up and thrusting it at Lawrence. Her joking tone elicited an apologetic smile from Kieman.

  Lawrence thought he understood why Eve herself wasn’t smiling. As he took the parchment from Eve, he didn’t expect her to say it out loud.

  “I’d hoped to meet you on the river,” she said.

  “Better for me to see you off on your travels under the sun. After all, I’m the merchant you cheated.”

  Eve’s eyes narrowed, but she said no more.

  For his part, Kieman seemed to have roughly guessed from that exchange how his original plan would have played out. He grinned tiredly and shook his head.

  “Now then, if you’ll be so kind as to wait here.” Lawrence left the pair with those words, and as he exited the room and passed through into the hallway, he got the same old glare from Kieman’s messenger, who was posted there.

  Evidently the blood on his clothing was from having been kicked in the nose when trying to restrain Eve. Lawrence flashed the man a merchant’s smile in spite of himself, probably because he just didn’t like the man very much. Satisfied with that, he headed down the corridor.

  Here and there were groups of people gathered around the dim candlelight, whispering to one another. Were they even now trying to come up with some sort of scheme, or were they simply conferring on what might happen next?

  Either way, Lawrence held in his hand the letter that would overturn the ceremony that was currently taking place in the church’s majestic sanctuary. He naturally walked a little taller.

  Now he was the protagonist. Armed with that knowledge, he approached the guards posted at the sanctuary door and spoke with them, then strode inside with his head held high and a serious expression on his face.

  A strange murmur ran through the sanctuary, and Reynolds was the only one still wearing a brave, arrogant smile.

  “Mr. Reynolds,” murmured Lawrence, having made his way through the crowd and now standing in front of the altar.

  He was not unknown to the man.

  Reynolds faced him and greeted him with exaggerated pleasure, as though meeting an old friend. “Well, well! What have we here?”

  It was a fine act. Reynolds was indeed not a merchant to be trifled with.

  “Yes, actually, a certain woman asked me to deliver this.”

  It did not take very much time for Reynolds to understand that this referred to Eve. “Oh ho.” For just an instant, a look of revolting avarice flashed across his face; it was well suited to the flickering candlelight. He was surely thinking that joining his capital to hers for the sake of expedience could save him some effort.

  “It seems to be a request for trade.” Lawrence produced the letter from his breast pocket, which made Reynolds’s grin only widen. Given the circumstances, he was obviously thinking he would be able to use her as he liked.

  He excitedly opened the letter, like a young lad opening a love note.

  Lawrence congratulated himself on not laughing at the face he made next.

  “Given that you trade in a large volume of goods, Mr. Reynolds, she requests an inspection of your ledgers. Said inspection will be conducted by a keen-eyed representative of my trade guild.”

  “… Ah… er…”

  “We have evidence regarding your trade in copper coins, showing that you received fifty-eight crates from the Debau Company but sent sixty to the Winfiel kingdom – though at first we assumed you were merely evading tariffs.”

  Sweat dripped off Reynolds’s face as Lawrence murmured into his ear. It was as though Lawrence’s breath was too hot, and Reynolds was a wax figurine.

  “But you weren’t manipulating tariffs to make a bit of coin on the side. You were cooperating with the Debau Company to shift large amounts of capital downstream.”

  Depending on the packing method, the number of coins in a crate could differ. Using that little trick, they could transfer the money covertly.

  “You received payment for sixty crates from Winfiel, then paid Debau for fifty-eight. So long as you look at each transaction separately, they seem to add up in the ledger. But as to whether the number of coins in the crates matches the amount paid – that’s not clear from the books.”

  Reynolds’s face had gone pale, and his eyes flicked back and forth crazily.

  “But if we compare imports and exports, it’s clear that each time the two-crate difference remains at the Jean Company, doesn’t it? And you can use that method for all sorts of things.”

  That was what Lawrence had said when he’d heard Col’s answer to the riddle. The reason he had begun to wonder whether the trick might be seeing more use was because there were so many types of goods where it would apply.

  Just as there were too many people in the world for one to believe that one was the protagonist.

  “Copper ore, lead, tin, brass, and goods made from them. So long as they have a standard shape and are round, you can do this. The Roef mines are rich with metals, are they not?”

  “N-no… but–”

  “Are you suggesting that this is simply a secret shift of capital? I’m afraid that simply isn’t so. Shall we send my people to visit the Debau Company? When I first noticed your dishonesty, the first thing I assumed was that you were trying to avoid tariffs. But taxes are important. What would happen if the Debau Company was unwilling to pay theirs?”

  Reynolds’s face began to twitch and jiggle like a shaking child’s.

  Two birds, one stone.

  That’s what nearly anyone would say had they hit upon this plan.

  “Your method lets the Debau Company evade taxation, too. Each time they trade copper coin with the Jean Company, they lose two crates of coins from their books. And if there’s no profit, they don’t have to pay taxes. Now, then–”

  Lawrence paused to clear his throat, and Reynolds took the opportunity.

  “What do you want? How much? What’s your goal? Tell me!” Even caught off guard, Reynolds managed to control himself well enough not to raise his voice.

  Lawrence put a hand on his shoulder as though to calm him, smiled, and continued.

  “I am a mere messenger. Such negotiations…” He glanced over his shoulder past the crowd in the hallway. “… Will need to be discussed with my associates there.”

  What was left of Reynolds’s pride prevented him from collapsing to his knees on the spot. It would have been one thing if they had been the sort of merchants who could be cajoled or bribed. But the people waiting past the hallway at the entrance for Reynolds were misers who would happily commit murder.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m a mere traveling merchant trying to find some wolf bones, after all,” Lawrence said, turning and walking away.

  As he passed Kieman and Eve, he briefly shook their hands. The two of them were quite capable of cooking Reynolds’s goose – of that he had no doubt.

  He walked along the corridor, passing the grim-faced merchants there.

  He wasn’t the hero.

  He wasn’t a great merchant.

  He wasn’t meant for a grand stage, nor did he have strings he could pull at will.

  As he emerged from the church’s front door, the sun was completely down, and the torches behind him cast long shadows out into the night.

  When he looked back, the grand structure was given a strangely ominous majesty,
being lit from below as it was by the torchlight.

  He descended the stone steps, passed through the crowd gathered to watch the commotion at the church, and continued on.

  It wasn’t that he was particularly confident. There was simply a place he had to go. A familiar scene in a familiar building.

  He entered through the door he himself had left open, climbing the creaking stairs to the third floor. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness, so the hall was a bit dark, but he could tell where the door was.

  He stood in front of it and knocked twice, slowly.

  A presence on the other side of the door moved, and the door was soon opened.

  From the open door leaked candlelight and the smell of food. It had been a dizzying few days. Nonetheless, Lawrence smiled and spoke.

  “I’m back.”

  Holo and Col replied, “Welcome back.”

  The door gently closed behind him.

  Final Act

  In the end, they never quite found out what sort of absurd deal Kieman and Eve had forced down Reynolds’s throat. But going by the fact that the narwhal trade between Reynolds and the southerners – which had very nearly ended in disaster – wound up concluding smoothly, he must have accepted the involvement of the Rowen Trade Guild.

  Reynolds still technically purchased the narwhal, but in exchange for silence about his dishonesty and the Debau Company’s tax evasion, the profits would go to the southerners via the Rowen Trade Guild.

  Or something roughly along those lines.

  In order to quiet the northern landlords, Eve had probably acted as a mediator and directly allotted them a share of the proceeds.

  That was what Lawrence could gather from the state of the town, and he had no particular desire to know the whole truth. He’d been excused from acting as Kieman’s tool as well as nearly conspiring with Eve, so it was water under the bridge.

  And the next day saw them treated to a midday meal that fairly overflowed from the table. Lawrence didn’t even bother to ask who had footed the bill.

  “So, where is our next destination?” asked Holo as she devoured a piece of meat so tender it needed neither knife nor tooth to cut it.

  The food was so decadent that Col was having difficulty swallowing.

  “Good question… Mmm, this is delicious. What meat is this?” Lawrence was completely absorbed in the exquisite meal, and his perfunctory answer earned him a nasty glare from Holo.

  “Eve’s going to send someone around to tell us what they managed to learn from Reynolds about the wolf bones, so on that count you needn’t worry.”

  “Mm. ’Tis a mere verbal contract,” said Holo, devouring a deep-fried fish head.

  As one would expect from a coastal port town, there was a bowl full of sea salt on the table, and Holo had sprinkled it liberally on the morsel, and it seemed to be delicious indeed.

  She took bite after bite and quickly finished it off.

  “You’re well aware of how important verbal contracts are, aren’t you?”

  Holo said nothing in response to Lawrence’s question, instead licking her fingers clean like a cat.

  “Anyway, my guess is we’ll end up crossing the channel…”

  “The sea?” Col looked up from his intense deliberations over whether or not to eat the shrimp head in front of him or leave it on his plate.

  “They’re an island nation that imports foreign currency, so they’re full of people who excel at buying all sorts of things.”

  It wasn’t clear whether Col understood, but the moment he looked back down at the shrimp head, Holo snatched it away and popped it into her mouth.

  It crunched audibly as she chewed it.

  Col seemed more surprised at Holo’s eating of the shrimp than he was at having it stolen from him.

  “You can eat shrimp heads. They’re rather tasty.”

  “Wha…?”

  Holo would have been pleased if he’d worn an envious expression, but even the wisewolf was weak against such sad faces.

  “Hmph,” she muttered, pulling back the hand that had been reaching for the rest of his shrimp.

  “You two eat nicely,” said Lawrence. It was an obvious joke, but he still found himself plucking an herb stem from his face that had been flung there by Holo. “Honestly,” he sighed, and just then there was a hesitant knock at the door.

  Col started to stand, but Lawrence had been expecting this, so he wound up going to the door.

  “It’s probably Eve’s messenger,” he said, opening the door a crack.

  Only the shameless or the boastful flung the door wide-open during a meal. When he saw the face of their guest past the cracked door, he was glad he hadn’t opened it wide.

  “My, perhaps I should’ve gone in,” said Eve mischievously as Lawrence stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

  Holo would still be able to hear them perfectly, but that was better than a fight breaking out.

  “You jest. Still, I didn’t expect you to come yourself.”

  “You wound me. I’m not the kind who forgets a debt – and I owe you my life.”

  She narrowed her eyes beneath her scarf, never truly letting anyone know whether she was joking or not. And yet if Lawrence were asked if he was unhappy she had come in person, the truth was that he was not.

  “So, about what you asked me.”

  “What news?”

  “It turns out Reynolds did have some notion of where the bones went.”

  Concerned about her choice of words, Lawrence pressed her. “Some notion?”

  “I mean, his conclusion was just short of mine.” She cocked her head, obviously giving him a hard time.

  Eve had the information that Lawrence and Holo most wanted all along.

  “Don’t be angry. I didn’t think things would turn out this way.”

  “And?”

  “Heh. I don’t feel like you had such a serious face yesterday.” She poked his chin with her finger, which made him scowl. She might have had some wine, to be in such fine spirits. “I’ll just say it – it’s in the Winfiel kingdom, my homelands, at the Great Blondel Monastery. Do you know it?”

  “Blon… Wait, not the golden sheep?”

  “Oh ho, so you know the tale. Here on the mainland, only the older generation seems to know of it. But yes, the great monastery with the legend of the golden sheep.”

  Out on the great plains that stretched as far as one could see, there was a monastery that tended a flock so vast even God couldn’t count their number. There was a legend that every few hundred years, there appeared a sheep with golden fleece amid that great flock.

  It was the richest monastery in the Winfiel kingdom, its might as formidable as even the greatest trading company.

  “Evidently the monastery bought the bones, though who’s to say whether that’s true.”

  “No, thank you, truly. I’ll be certain to repay–”

  Eve’s smile cut Lawrence’s words right off. “Don’t be rude now. The fact is I’m in your debt. I got both Arold and my fur back. I’ve readied a ship heading south. So you see–” she said, slowly extending her hand.

  She looked right at Lawrence, smiling a genuine smile. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Lawrence smiled and looked down to shake her offered hand – that’s when it happened.

  “…–!”

  He couldn’t begin to guess at whether he could ever have anticipated such a thing happening. His mind went white with surprise.

  “… This scent, is it abi leaf? Kieman must’ve treated you to quite a feast.” Eve smiled casually, replacing her scarf as though nothing had happened. “You taught me that business is most profitable when you take your opponent by surprise. That was payment for the lesson.”

  Lawrence’s mind still hadn’t caught up as she put her hand on his shoulder and moved closer to his face.

  “My name might be of some use in Winfiel. Fleur von Eiterzental Bolan. That’s my formal name, but there’s ano
ther name known only to those close to me. Fleur von Eiterzental Mariel Bolana. I rather like the sound of Mariel,” she said, with an innocent smile Lawrence would have liked to see unveiled.

  “I hope it’s of some use to you, Lawrence.”

  Her sudden use of his name stunned him for a moment, but he quickly replied, “It will be.”

  “Kraft Lawrence… I’m glad I met you.”

  They were her words as a veteran merchant, whose traveling clothes well suited her. Her scarf was wrapped snugly around her head, and she was clad bodily with her thorough preparation.

  She took her hands from Lawrence’s shoulders, straightened herself, and quietly extended her hand again.

  She was such a perfectly fresh traveling merchant it was almost frustrating.

  “I’ll never forget the name Eve Bolan.”

  “Heh. Wherever you find money, you’ll find me. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

  She pulled her hand away crisply and turned on her heel, walking off without a single lingering regret.

  Lawrence turned back to the door behind him and was about to open it, when his hand stopped.

  “Huh? What’s wrong?” The door was open, and there stood Col. For some reason he was holding a plate heaped with food and wearing a worried expression. “Um, she told me to go out and see.”

  Owing to the door’s angle, Lawrence couldn’t see Holo from where he stood. But from Col’s words and his appearance, he could put the pieces together. He patted Col’s head.

  “Wait here in the hall for a bit,” he said.

  Lawrence wasn’t sure if he had managed to make the right smile, but smile he must, he knew.

  Col nodded obediently and went past Lawrence and into the hallway. As he went, Lawrence plucked a morsel off his plate.

  It was a bitter-smelling herb, abi. The one Eve had named.

  The same herb that Holo had tossed at his face.

  He popped it into his mouth, entering the room as he chewed it and closing the door behind him.

  “I don’t want to remember what happened next.” If Lawrence had been writing his biography, that’s how he would have ended the chapter.

  He murmured as much to himself in an effort to escape reality.