Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  However, they were not all staring in his direction; indeed, those who had noticed them quickly lost interest and returned to their tabletop card games and chitchat.

  Someone who gave off the air of a merchant rose from his chair.

  “How may I help you?”

  Even though by appearance, he was an ordinary youth similar in physique to Lawrence, his hands looked as thick and tough as pounded leather. He was truly well suited for the transport corps, using horse-drawn wagons to haul the mercenaries’ supplies to the field of battle.

  His vigilant blue eyes shifted between Lawrence and Holo, perhaps thinking that they were getting in the way of business.

  “I’ve heard that this is where the gentlemen of the Myuri Mercenary Company are staying.”

  He felt like every set of ears in the entire room reacted to his invoking the name of the company.

  Chitchat continued in small voices without anyone moving an inch, but he thought that had paused for a moment.

  Perhaps because she was tense, Holo kept her head down throughout.

  “That is indeed correct but… did you come to sell something…?”

  His eyes showed that he meant Holo.

  Certainly, if one brought a woman with them to an inn where a mercenary company was lodging, they could only be selling one thing.

  “No… actually, I heard about you from the Delink Company in the town of Lenos.”

  As Lawrence spoke, he withdrew the letter from inside his coat. As soon as the youth saw the red seal, he reacted, for someone of status had business here.

  The probable merchant youth raised his eyebrows a bit and curled the side of his lips. The invocation of the Delink Company’s name instantly attracted attention from everyone present.

  “Where’s the captain?”

  The young man watched Lawrence, turning his head back a little as he asked.

  “The strategist should be on the second floor,” came the reply.

  The youth’s blue eyes never shifted away from Lawrence even a little.

  “Unfortunately the captain is absent, but you can see the strategist.”

  In any organization, it was an ironclad rule that requests had to climb a ladder with at least one rung on it. All the more so when one’s objective was an audience with the captain of a company. Even if the captain was willing to meet anyone at all, one never knew if his subordinates would permit it or not. That made things a little complicated.

  When Lawrence nodded and said, “Well, then,” the youth began to turn around. That was when he suddenly lifted his face up.

  “Ah.”

  It was not actually clear if he had said that or not, but that is what form the youth’s lips seemed to take from Lawrence’s perspective. And before Lawrence could turn around, all those seated rose to their feet. He belatedly registered the sound of the cowbell. The youth stood at attention, with those at the other tables doing the same.

  When he turned around, the man who had opened the door and entered was of fairly small stature, his hair short, his eyes sharp, giving off a mysterious aura straddling the line between that of a youth and a young man.

  “Mm? What?”

  To his ears, the grating voice reminded him of the sort he would make if his throat was sore. Even though his garments stressed utility, the extensive use of fur made instantly clear he was a person of high status. The large cloak that hung down his back all the way to the ground made it exceedingly difficult to tell whether he was actually a mercenary or nobility.

  “Oh, selling are we? A nun’s a bit rare.”

  A smile came over him, both courteous and treacherous, like an animal’s, as he stretched out his hand to Holo’s chin, turning her face up toward him. Accustomed to such behavior from people, in an instant, Lawrence switched to a merchant down to the bottom of his heart.

  “You are the captain of the Myuri Mercenary Company, I presume?”

  He stood straight as he spoke, not a single hint of shadow on his smiling face.

  When threatened, a mercenary readied for battle by drawing his sword. A merchant readied for battle by pulling a letter out from under his coat with a smile on his face.

  “Mm, indeed I am… what, you’re from Delink?”

  His hand still touching Holo’s chin, he seemed to know he had assumed wrongly the instant he saw the red seal. He quickly pulled his hand back from Holo’s chin, looking like a still-innocent youth.

  “Ah, my mistake. I was sure you’d come selling. Ah, how rude of me. Certainly she’s a bit too beautiful to be merchandise.”

  Though giving off a vulgar aura, the smile on his face seemed genuine. The smile he directed at Holo in apology for his rudeness held the calm peculiar to those who had seen conflicts between greedy souls to their bitter ends.

  The captain of the Myuri Mercenary Company was a little taken aback that Holo’s expression did not change at all, but he had surely faced many awkward situations, both in battle and in political bargaining. There were no cracks in his smile as he turned back to Lawrence.

  “I am indeed Luward Myuri of the Myuri Mercenary Company. And you?”

  As he named himself, the way he tossed back his cloak and put his hand on his hip was very mercenary-like. But to Lawrence’s eyes, Luward Myuri was not at all older than he looked. Though Holo certainly had many parts to her that made her seem her apparent age, this one seemed very much human.

  And just after he noticed that the seal had changed Luward’s behavior toward Holo somewhat, there was the plop of a drop of water. Luward, too, noticed the sound, looking from the open palm of his hand up to the ceiling, as if rain had leaked in.

  Lawrence shifted his gaze toward Holo.

  That moment, still expressionless, a tear flowed down Holo’s cheek as she opened her mouth.

  “Claw…”

  That single word was all Holo muttered to dubious faces from all those around.

  Lawrence’s gaze shifted toward Luward’s chest.

  Hanging down over it was what appeared to be a pitch-black bull horn.

  Lawrence had thought it was merely the sort of lucky charm mercenaries used in the hopes of bringing courage and victory, but the sight of it had Holo rooted to the spot.

  When the color of Luward Myuri’s face changed upon hearing that word, he knew that it held some kind of deep meaning to Holo.

  “You can tell this is a claw?”

  Holo answered his brief question with a nod.

  That instant, another tear fell down with a plop.

  It was crying suited for a young maiden. These were certainly not tears of joy.

  Lawrence interposed himself between Luward and Holo, embracing her by the shoulders.

  And Luward turned, looking as if he was about to offer an apology but held it back instead.

  “Inside.”

  With that single word, the mercenary company captain walked on ahead, brushing aside the merchant-like youth, who watched with no idea what just happened.

  No one made a single word of protest.

  Lawrence barely moved, either, but as Luward climbed the inner stairway, he finally turned and spoke.

  “I have something to ask you.”

  Lawrence did not expect anything good.

  But there was no way he could refuse.

  Just as with noble houses, companies and organizations that stretched across many generations were seldom led by the oldest among them. Often, such individuals served the company or organization before their masters had even been born.

  The Myuri Mercenary Company was no exception; the man they called their strategist was a large man with refined, wiry silver hair clipped short, with sideburns stretching all the way down to the fine beard over his chin.

  “And I as well?”

  With Luward returning to the room, there were likely reports on this matter and that. The strategist, who had been saying something to a youngster just outside the room, was surprised at being ordered to clear everyone out.

&n
bsp; “That’s right. No one is to enter this room or even the rooms above or below it.”

  Lawrence thought that Luward’s tone of utter finality was a little arrogant, but he had heard that confusion regarding orders often resulted in the annihilation of entire units.

  The large man in the role of strategist bore a clear expression of displeasure, but he put his expression and the rest behind him as he stood at attention, his heels clicking, and answered, “As you command,” and left the room, barking orders to an apprentice in a loud voice.

  The room was overflowing with signs of an extended stay. Most were preparations for the road, but the bundles of papers and sheets of parchment were likely for engaging persons of influence in every land. What he found a little unexpected were several books of knightly legends. He had thought someone who made his living with real swords and shields would not read such things, but Luward noticed Lawrence’s gaze, laughing as he sat in his chair and spoke.

  “I can’t be issuing commands while drinking wine, now can I? Heroic tales in books are just the thing to inspire courage and drive one’s fears away.”

  This was indeed a leader in full command of his group.

  “Now, then, let’s get down to this, shall we?”

  Trust in the speed with which one’s subordinates carried out their duties made for a good master apparently.

  Having barely sat down, Luward unhurriedly rose back up and opened a wooden shutter halfway, peering outside. Lawrence felt like the man had become a little nervous. Surely there would not be someone standing outside the window eavesdropping on them?

  It was cold, but Luward did not close the window.

  It seemed like he could not keep his nerves under control unless all was brought to light.

  Lawrence held Holo’s hand.

  However, this was less to cheer Holo’s spirits than to stop himself from drowning in his own tension.

  “How did you know this is a claw?”

  Luward put the necklace that looked like a black bull horn into his hand as he broached the subject. When he showed them the front and back, Lawrence understood that it had been severed in half.

  As an ornament, it was large and crude, something one would – think only a young man would wear. When Lawrence stretched his fingers straight out, it stretched from the tip of his middle finger to the palm of his hand. Those of high status did not favor such rustic ornaments. The higher class an ornament, the smaller it was.

  “Scent.”

  Holo made a short reply.

  Luward looked at her for a while before nodding.

  “You don’t look like an affluent merchant at first glance, but, ah, pardon me. But the Delink Company is stricter about acting in its self-interest than we are. Furthermore, you even have a letter of introduction from the famous shopkeeper Philon. Who in the world are you?”

  It was a natural question.

  Without taking a deep breath, Lawrence made ready to use the story he had put together in his head beforehand.

  Holo’s next sentence interrupted him. “Where did you get this?”

  Lawrence immediately let go of Holo’s hand.

  The tone of her voice was frigid. He had let go, largely without meaning to, when he had realized that.

  Until now, she had kept her head down, looking like a pathetic maiden truly brought here to be sold, crushed under the weigh of her own circumstances.

  But what was there now was anger.

  Depending on the answer she got, there would be no mercy.

  Of course, Luward did not falter in the face of such resolute anger.

  “Are you asking as to the place?”

  Many mercenary company captains were actual members of the nobility. It took a certain level of influence and money to assemble a band of rogues.

  Some went from bandits to mercenaries, but Lawrence had often heard that in most cases, it was cabals of hired men bound together by money that became mercenaries.

  In other words, Myuri probably had two things going for him.

  The first was his bloodline. The second was that he was a leader who could keep rogues in check.

  It was possible that faced with such obvious anger, even from a “little girl,” he was simply too proud.

  Lawrence considered saying something, but Holo was not ignorant of affairs in the human world. Surely she understood. Under the current circumstances, she just did not care.

  “What’s your objective?”

  However, Luward did not lose his own temper. Rather, he turned his vigilant eyes toward Holo.

  He turned toward not the Holo that Lawrence saw, but rather the slender nun she appeared to be.

  He looked somewhat deflated.

  “Answer me.”

  For a moment, Lawrence mistook who had spoken.

  Luward drew his sword with lightning speed the instant after Holo spoke the words.

  “That’s my line.” His sword was at Holo’s throat. His swordsmanship was faster than a gale.

  But Holo’s slender neck was still attached. The reason was surely that Luward’s temper was not that short.

  So Lawrence thought, but the facts told a different tale.

  “Answer me,” Holo repeated herself.

  Luward’s sword tip distinctly quivered.

  The girl who had shown his men her tears was now interrogating him heedless of his sword. It was Luward who was being overwhelmed.

  No doubt that alone was bizarre to him. Furthermore, it seemed that what hung from Luward’s neck was no mere decoration to him.

  His other hand gripped the claw as he kept his eyes on Holo.

  When Luward finally shifted his gaze to his own chest, it was as if two beasts had stared each other down, and he had lost.

  “It seems there’s been a misunderstanding. I did not seize this.”

  As if surrendering, Luward sheathed his sword, simultaneously fingering the cord fastened to the claw and lightly lifting it up.

  This was not how the captain of a mercenary company acted toward a single maiden.

  It was as if he knew what lay hidden under Holo’s hood and reacted accordingly.

  “I inherited this from my father.”

  Luward continued to speak. He paused there for a while, as if waiting to see if Holo wished to interrupt.

  “And my father inherited it from his father.”

  Holo lifted her face up and looked at Luward.

  “And what of the name Myuri?”

  Lawrence felt like Luward’s nostrils opened a little. He seemed both angry and surprised.

  Reflexively, Lawrence tried to say something sensible. But in that place and time, it was he who was the outsider.

  “It’s all right. I’m not angry.” Luward seemed to sense Lawrence’s motion at the edge of his vision. He raised an open palm to Lawrence as he spoke.

  Of course, his gaze remained turned toward Holo.

  Luward stared at Holo as if he was searching for something in his memories.

  And as if trying to pacify an angry wolf, he spoke with discretion and reverence.

  “Might I ask what is your name?”

  He answered her question with a question.

  Usually it was something that drove Holo to anger, but in this place it held a different meaning.

  The reverence Luward displayed toward Holo implicitly answered her question.

  “Holo.”

  Her brief reply made Luward’s eyebrows shoot all the way up. But what startled Lawrence was how Luward then bared his teeth and slapped his forehead.

  “How can that be possible?!”

  His volume was so great that the edges of the papers in the room shuddered. The voice was suitable for commanding and inspiring troops on the great steppes, and the shudder it caused went straight down to Lawrence’s liver.

  Holo, whose excellent ears should have made her sensitive to loud noises, did not even quiver.

  It was as if a great boulder had fallen. Lawrence finally understood.
>
  Luward Myuri was the real thing.

  “Paro, Kiris, Yue, Inti, Shariemin.”

  Luward listed the names in succession. Lawrence remembered having heard them before.

  Holo’s expression strained. Her lips began to tremble.

  Even Luward’s face was contorted as if stained with tears. Voicelessly, her lips formed the words: I cannot believe it.

  “… I heard them many times from my father.”

  The mercenary company captain slowly opened his mouth and murmured those words.

  “I heard even more from my grandfather.”

  Luward approached Holo and took her small hand in his.

  As Holo looked back at Luward, she lowered her hood.

  When Lawrence had first heard the name of the Myuri Mercenary Company in the town of Lenos, he was distinctly jealous.

  He had thought disagreeably of the existence of Myuri, who had lived in the same place in the same era as Holo, and for whom she felt strongly even now.

  But there was nothing good that was born from jealousy. You would always regret what came from it, and this moment was no exception.

  For a moment it seemed like Holo’s ears would cause Luward to fall over, but his constitution endured; he was fit to be a mercenary.

  After taking Holo’s hands, bringing them both together, he removed the pitch-black claw that he wore around his own neck, taking it in his hands.

  “The first captain received this when the mercenary company was founded.”

  Holo received the claw.

  This exchange looked like the final delivery of a message that had been entrusted to them decades, even centuries ago, carried on possibilities as slender as a thread. Perhaps that was indeed very much the case.

  As Holo continued to look down upon the claw she had received in her hands, Luward flipped it over atop Holo’s palms. There were characters carved into it.

  Lawrence could tell that the characters were very old, but nothing more.

  However, it appeared Holo did understand them. In an instant, tears poured out.