Spice & Wolf Omnibus

by Isuna Hasekura

  Holo replied as she yawned, “You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” She directed the words toward Lawrence.

  Since it was not as if Holo was loading a mule down with a heavy pile of baggage, in the end, she merely switched to a pouch filled with gold coins, fastened a bit of food and water to herself, and left the town behind.

  He could see a single bird flying in the moonlit sky above them. After circling around Lawrence and Hilde for a while, it flew off to the east.

  Hilde did not remain.

  If he was absent from the company too long, he might even be assassinated if where he had emerged next was exposed. No doubt the following several days would be the longest Hilde had ever known.

  As a merchant, Lawrence felt that aiding Hilde achieve his objective was something to be very happy about. But in the end, Hilde had not directly asked for aid.

  It made perfect sense really. Lawrence was a traveling merchant after all, and just the thought of sticking his neck into the Debau Company’s internal strife made him shiver.

  And yet Lawrence felt a little lonely at the role of a mere traveling merchant being thrust upon him once more. He returned alone to the inn where his room felt strangely large, and laid in bed, turning over.

  Though he would be separated from Holo for less than a week, he still thought, Please come back soon.

  Chapter 7

  The next day, as soon as Lawrence awoke, he searched for Holo with his eyes.

  Of course it was meaningless; his face reddened as soon as he realized what he was doing.

  Since he thought Holo was charming when she searched for him with her eyes, she probably would think the same thing of him. With no noise in the quiet room save that which came from the bustling street outside through the wooden shutters, Lawrence scratched his face, sighing.

  He went out to the inner courtyard of the inn, greeted the mercenaries training and chatting there a bit, and picked up a beard trimmer. Even though he had done this hundreds of times over, it just did not refresh him.

  Of course he was well aware of why.

  Holo.

  Even though he knew she would be gone for only a few days, it was like when a knife one was used to was out for repairs; one felt a certain emptiness in their hand. He really should have insisted on going to Yoitsu with Holo without paying the town of Lenos any heed. The only good thing about Holo not being here was that he could entertain such embarrassing thoughts without hesitation.

  After indulging in his reverie, Lawrence went into town and changed all the silver coins he had with him into gold coins. Normally one would have to go to the exchange administered by the Debau Company to trade for gold lumione, but now that speculation had begun on the new silver coins, everyone wanted silver coins badly enough to pull them out of people’s throats.

  The money changers at the market were paying unbelievable prices compared to gold coins.

  In a normal town, if speculation grew too heated, the councilors and guild masters would scold them suitably into line.

  If clergy did not pray, farmers did not till, and warriors did not fight, but were instead wholly absorbed by gambling, anyone could imagine what would result for the town.

  However, this was a town of freedom and hope. Lawrence sensed no one trying to stop people from speculating on silver coins. Indeed, the faction in control of the Debau Company might well have been fanning the flames.

  The higher the price of silver coins climbed, the greater the profit that would line their pockets. Even though a silver coin, no matter how far it might travel, was in the end just a piece of silver with a symbol stamped on it, its price could climb to the heavens themselves.

  Lawrence obtained gold coins in wide circulation from a street lined with jam-packed money changers. Unlike silver, gold coins did not tarnish or corrode; they always glittered. Lawrence had of course never seen gold coins or the like in the cold village where he was born; even when traveling between towns and villages with his master, it took him several years for him to lay eyes on a gold coin.

  And when he actually saw a real gold coin in person, Lawrence then truly understood why gold had occupied a special place in human history. With their glitter and weight, they were like a condensed form of what was precious in the world. Gold made people prostrate themselves before it, as if they could not imagine treating it lightly.

  Of course, gold lumione had a particular symbol stamped on it, but the pattern stamped on a gold coin was largely irrelevant. For gold was respected more than any long-dead ruler.

  But unlike gold coins, which rarely showed their face in the market due to their value, the same was not true for silver coins, which dominated day-to-day trading.

  That was why, as Lawrence came across a couple of mercenaries with time to kill chatting about various things across the land, the motif for the new currency suddenly came up.

  “I think it’ll be a ruler’s face like usual.”

  So spoke a man with a large scar at the edge of one eye.

  “Really? Well which ruler, then? Or they gonna put a whole bunch of faces?”

  “Well… how ’bout the head of the Debau Company?”

  Even if they looked rustic, mercenaries’ knowledge and observations were more informed than one might think. Their observations were broadened from having walked between numerous towns and seen many things. An exceptional person might gain insight without seeing anything, but even a normal person could greatly broaden their field of vision through experience.

  That was one of the small number of forward-looking teachings Lawrence received from his master.

  “There’s no way the rulers would forgive the head of a company stamping his face onto a coin. Besides, who is he anyway? His face ain’t gonna put any value on a coin.”

  “… Well, whose face do you think they’ll put on it?”

  “Who knows?”

  The mercenary made a large, deft shrug of his shoulder and placed a bet on a card atop a table.

  “Mr. Merchant, what do you think?”

  He passed the question off to Lawrence, who was watching the game.

  Of course they knew he was on good terms with Luward and Moizi.

  But Lawrence, who felt a bit tense, as if he was standing before vicious beasts, replied thusly. “Since they’re a mining company, I was thinking they might put a pick or something on it.”

  “Oh, I see. A pick. Could be that, sure.”

  There had been groups that had raised iron pots instead of cloth as their banner of war.

  The important thing was that one instantly knew who they were and exactly where they stood in the grand scheme of things. Normally, one needed the backing of a person of influence to issue a currency; that’s why the face of a ruler was stamped.

  So, with the faces of so many rulers lined up behind a currency with such a large number of coins, the chances the motif would be something other than a person were quite high.

  “Still, it seems kind of a waste to stamp a pick on top of a coin.”

  “A waste?”

  “Well, ain’t it? I mean, it’s the perfect chance to spread your face around.”

  “Idiot. There’s too many people who wanna spread their face, there’s no room to put ’em all!”

  “Ah, yeah.”

  Their voices rose in hearty laughter.

  “But if it’s a pick, a lot of people won’t like that, I bet.”

  Having somehow made his decision, the mercenary discarded a card.

  As he spoke, another person discarded a card, and yet another drew a card on top of that one, to which all the remaining people instantly yelled, “Bastard!” as they tossed their cards away.

  “No good, no good. Crap.”

  As such words came out of their mouths, they tossed crude copper coins on top of the table.

  The man who drew the last card laughed as he gathered up the coins, murmuring, “I wonder,” as he stuffed them in his bag.

  “Thanks to mine excavatin’ the p
lace I was born’s turned into deep holes and muddy water. Won’t stampin’ a pick on a coin stir up trouble with folks?”

  Those who appeared to have lost were reaching for their drinks when they made “Mm…” sounds as the words made them think.

  “Don’t it make ya think? Somethin’ stinks about this whole business.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Who knows. But let me tell ya…”

  And perhaps switching to his card game face, one of them looked all around as he stretched his hand over the table, flipping one coin onto its back.

  “It’s nice if you can use a ruler whose face you know. I like Reggie the Bold, duke of the duchy of Golbea. That’s why I’m sorry I can’t use that silver coin no more.”

  It was the name of a king worthy of a gallant tale, but the child of his favorite duke had been assassinated and his position as king had been usurped. Of course, the currency in circulation stamped with the face of the previous king was melted down, and use of the old currency became a crime. It was a textbook example of forbidding the use of the enemy’s currency.

  “Well, there is that. But there’s going to be trouble stirred up no matter whose face you put on it,” said a comparatively older man.

  And he was probably right.

  Currency should be just that, currency – not a tool for promoting the names of people of influence.

  Indeed, in many cases, that became an obstacle to the currency coming into wider circulation.

  Because the right to mint currency had been largely synonymous with the right to rule, issuing currency had become a symbol of authority more than a means to make money.

  “It’s better for us that trouble is stirred up, though.” So said another person.

  “No doubt there.”

  Hearty laughter arose once more. The conversation shifted to who was each person’s favorite ruler.

  Some of the names Lawrence knew; some he did not. What kept him from leaving was that the conversation made the blood flow much more than those between merchants.

  Merchants did not usually talk with one another about whom such and such got along with or did not like. When two merchants dealt with each other, it was because there was money to be made or payment to be disputed or so forth; in the end, what was important was whether money was being made or not.

  But right now, he thought of such easy-to-understand fundamentals as very precious. If everything was as simple as that, the world would be a better place for it, he thought to himself.

  Because this person did not get along with that other person, hundreds of currencies were necessary.

  To put it bluntly, it was inconvenient.

  Convenient was better than inconvenient.

  He felt that what the Debau Company was trying to do was indeed correct.

  He thought that to use force to interfere with or even destroy that goal for profit was living in the old era.

  He wanted Hilde to do well, and for that purpose, he wanted Holo to return quickly.

  As he left the card-playing mercenaries and wandered about the town, he kept thinking as much.

  He thought it more logical that money should move forward as something for calculating profit and loss, with nothing to do with recognition or authority.

  In the end, it was rulers who were causing upheaval within the Debau Company.

  He wondered why they were such fools.

  Indeed, it was best that something other than men of influence be stamped upon a currency.

  If not what the mercenaries had guessed, he wondered what motif would indeed be suitable.

  It was close to an enigma; Lawrence just could not grasp it.

  While eating supper with Luward and Moizi, even as subjects wandered from increasing signs of cracks in the Debau Company, how they would proceed toward Yoitsu, and a few other less-dignified subjects, he continued thinking about it the whole time.

  Though it was true the matter simply rubbed him the wrong way, the real reason was the empty feeling in his hand.

  When he returned to the silent room by himself, all he wanted to do was go to bed as quickly as possible.

  There was nothing he could do to cooperate with Hilde; he had no time to do anything that would make money. He realized that with nothing to do, his heart was not at ease. Rather, he was feeling very lonely.

  When a person traded, there was always someone else to trade with. Everything began with the expectation that others would respond to one’s own words as a matter of course.

  Lawrence realized that right now, the thread connecting him to the rest of the world had been severed.

  Holo had probably felt like that for centuries while in the village’s wheat field. When he thought about it, he had a feeling that the silence and loneliness in the wheat field would have driven him mad.

  Holo was indeed quite an extraordinary person, he thought to himself.

  If all went well, Holo would return two or three nights hence at the earliest. Even if that was not so, Hilde’s bird companion would return to inform them of the situation at least.

  He hoped everything would go well.

  It did not happen very often, he thought, but precisely because of that, it would be nice if it happened once in a while.

  Disputes petering out, problems resolved; everyone would move forward without hesitation. And he would set up his store, with Holo by his side and trustworthy subordinates under him. If he wanted, he could groom a successor.

  But, he thought impudently, that successor would surely have a wolf’s ears and tail. He would pretend that slap back in Lenos never happened.

  He wondered if one could not snip the ears and tail with a pair of scissors.

  After cutting them off, he would just have to ask Norah to handle the stitches.

  No, that would get Holo angry, maybe he could get Eve to do it? Oh, Holo’s angry, pounding the table more and more. Do not be so pouty. If it means so much to you, you can do it yourself. Although with a crude personality like yours, I’m not sure you could even put thread through the eye of a needle…

  Lawrence meant to think about all of that, but he had apparently dozed off somewhere along the line.

  He suddenly awoke in the pitch-dark room.

  The pounding sound was not Holo pounding the table, but the sound of knocks on the door.

  “Yes!” he replied loudly from atop the bed, and the knocking stopped.

  Who could it be?

  Just as he thought it, the door opened on its own.

  “Mr. Lawrence.”

  A seasoned voice entered the room along with the glow of a candle.

  There stood Moizi, with one of the youngsters with him.

  Illuminated by the candle’s glow beneath it, Moizi’s face looked very serious.

  “I’m sorry, it seems I fell asleep… What is it?”

  When Lawrence got off the bed, he realized he had been sleeping with all his clothes on.

  He adjusted his sleeves and collar, but before he was finished grooming, Moizi spoke.

  “They are raising troops.”

  “Eh?”

  As Lawrence asked back, Moizi’s gaze did not waver one bit, delivering a hard fact as straight as a tightly pulled shoelace.

  “The Debau Company has decided to raise troops.”

  Instantly, he felt like his body was being pulled backward into the darkness.

  For the meaning was all too clear.

  Even before the arrival of the forbidden book, Hilde had lost.

  “I think we shall move up our timetable and depart tonight.”

  Certainly, it was quiet inside the inn, but there was an odd stirring within. No doubt Moizi’s subordinates were preparing for their march in great haste.

  “What will you do, Mr. Lawrence?”

  Moizi asked his question, but Lawrence was somewhat hesitant.

  After all, for a mercenary company to leave a town when troops were being summoned for conflict was a display of noncooperation wit
h the Debau Company. That did not mean it would be instantly recognized as a foe, but if a single traveling merchant, having been given so much consideration by that mercenary company, stayed behind, it would be small surprise if he was suspected of being a spy.

  Even if Lawrence’s position was under scrutiny, he could not hide himself like some trained spy.

  If he came under suspicion, he was in a place ruled by the Debau Company where no one would complain if he was decapitated following an interrogation. The level of danger was incalculable.

  However, Lawrence had made a pledge to Hilde.

  He did not think the forbidden book would serve any benefit at this stage; he did not think remaining behind could do any bit of good whatsoever. Even so, Hilde had exhausted all other options, clinging to the book, with considerable doubts remaining as to the verity of its contents, as his single thread of hope. Consequently, Hilde had no proper path of escape in spite of this turn of events. Knowing this, Lawrence could not simply drop everything and run with his tail between his legs.

  Lawrence had cooperated in handing the forbidden book over because he thought it would bring him no small profit.

  Therefore, the decision was no small responsibility.

  “There’s someone I want to contact.”

  “Contact?”

  But his face did not brighten any, for surely meeting Hilde would be no easy thing.

  “We’re preparing to flee because of the sudden summons by the town. The fact the summons for raising troops came out at night is proof someone accustomed to warfare is at the Debau Company. Once morning comes, there’ll be no choice but to cooperate with them. But those who are not at all prepared cannot just leave town during the night, even if it means yielding to the summons. A deft move.”

  Moizi’s praise of those who had decided to raise troops meant that even without saying, it was all too clear what would happen to those on the opposing side.

  And no doubt that was actually the case.

  Lawrence immediately wondered if Hilde was still alive.

  “Still… I must meet him.”

  Moizi stared straight at Lawrence.

  After pausing for a moment, the nod Moizi gave was no doubt his acceptance that he was a mercenary and the other man was a merchant.