Running a bathhouse was different from doing everything alone as a merchant. There were times when it was troublesome, but having someone working with him by his side took that trouble and made it his happiness. Lawrence replied to his wife with a pleased expression and a nod, and Holo beamed back a smile like a young girl.
As they went down to the first floor, Holo restlessly pulled the thin robe over her head. Sometimes she felt it was fine to leave it down since their customers were drunk all the time, but she could not let anyone get a good look at her ears. The only ones who knew about her identity in Nyohhira were the ones who worked at this bathhouse.
Entering the dining hall, Hanna brought Holo food, as though she had been listening for their footsteps. There was not too much, but the beans-to-meat ratio leaned much more in favor of meat this time, compared to Lawrence’s meal. He smiled wryly. While aware that she was still young, seeing Holo eat this much meat right after waking had him worrying.
He understood and was prepared for the huge difference in life spans between himself and Holo, the avatar of the wolf-who-lived-in-wheat. But slowly, he experienced more and more moments that underscored the reality.
Understanding it with his head was different from seeing it happen in daily life.
Every time he realized it again, he thought about how he wanted to appreciate each and every day.
“Oh.”
“Hmm?”
Lawrence gazed at the tomboyish Holo, who was deliciously gulping down meat before speaking slowly.
“’Tis you that must deal with all the trouble. You’ve been without rest since you lost the other helpers.”
“Yeah, well, that’s all right. It should be busy for only a bit more, and really I’ve been too easy on Col. He said he wanted to travel, but I couldn’t really stop him.”
Over ten years ago, when he met Holo and traveled here and there, getting into all sorts of adventures, they met a boy—Col. At the time, he was a wandering student trying to learn theology and was even younger than how young Holo had already looked.
And now he was a young man the same age as Lawrence was then, and the thought made the older man dread the passage of time.
At the same time, despite all the ups and downs, he felt guilty having Col work in the bathhouse forever when it had always been his dream to become a clergyman.
So Col, after hearing a story from a guest one day, could no longer stand it and finally decided to ask permission to leave on a journey; Lawrence had no choice but to support him.
“But I also think that maybe I should have had him wait until spring, honestly.”
“Hmm. Om, om…gulp. Well, that Col is oddly diligent. If he let that chance get away from him, he would likely still be dragging his feet for who knows how long. I feel ’twas not wrong of you to send him off like that.”
“That makes me feel better. I don’t want to get in the way of a kid with his whole future ahead of him.”
Lawrence poured some wine for himself into a tin cup, and Holo gave a small laugh at his particularly old-man-sounding speech.
“Indeed, but I never thought it would be an excuse to elope.”
Clang! The tin cup fell, the cask tipped over, and the spilled wine spread slowly across the long table.
Lawrence desperately tried to cover his agitation, which had rushed out just like the wine, by reaching out to the cup and the cask, but it was not much use. Hanna heard the noise and came over with a cloth, while Holo just laughed and laughed.
“Heh-heh. You really are a fool! Why not just accept it?”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
Lawrence spoke in a stiff wooden tone while lending Hanna a hand. Hanna’s glance contained a bit of a smile. After they wiped up the wine, Lawrence sat in his chair and Holo waved a knife tip in his direction.
“Col’s a good male, no? You don’t think ’twould be good for him to take over after you?”
“Ghrh…”
Holo’s logic was dead-on, and that was definitely how he felt. But understanding it in his mind and actually confronting it head-on were two different things. Lawrence was acutely aware of this every day.
And if this conversation pivoted toward the topic of their daughter, he likely would not be able to keep it together.
Indeed, the reason managing the bathhouse had become so dizzyingly involved lately was not just because they were lucky their customers valued them greatly. It was also because Lawrence was filling in for the two young helpers after they left. One of those helpers was the aforementioned Col. And the other who made a completely unexpected departure was Lawrence and Holo’s only daughter, Myuri.
Just as Col was leaving on his journey, of all things their daughter also took off from the bathhouse and followed right after.
Of course, there were several answers to the question Why?, but it was clear that one particular matter sat prominently in the middle of all this. This village was small, and the bathhouse even smaller. Who liked whom was quite obvious.
“It’s too early for her to get married.”
Though he thought he had tried to make a reasonable objection, both Holo and Hanna began to laugh. It was the laughter shared between two women who were confirming with each other that men, no matter how old, were always foolish.
“Then when is it not too early?”
“Um…mmnm…”
“Sir, don’t stress yourself out.”
Agonizing over Holo’s remark and then Hanna’s words, which could be taken as either comforting or teasing, Lawrence finally plugged his ears. Reason was not going to help him much. He knew. He knew! Since the very day his daughter was born, he was prepared for this moment.
“Heh-heh. Then what a relief she chose to elope with Col.”
“It is not an elopement!”
But it seemed that no matter what, Lawrence would object. Holo and Hanna cackled in delight together. He wished he could drink with other bathhouse owners.
“Besides, I do not see what you could gain from not sharing what you want to say with your beloved. Rather, for someone who is my daughter, she is a taking her time a stretch too long.”
It seemed as though Holo was jealous in her own way.
All things considered, Lawrence thought that Holo had no right to speak about people holding back their feelings, recalling memories of their journey from over ten years ago. Of course, if he actually said such a thing, he knew what would happen, so he stayed his tongue.
“Do you think it’s due to the influence from the many churchmen?”
“The Church?”
Lawrence didn’t seem to follow, and Holo twirled the tip of her knife as though hauling in a string from her head.
“Aye. They have the odd habit in never saying what matters until they die.”
“Oh, you mean their final confessions.”
“Aye, that.”
Praying for reconciliation with God at death’s door, people confessed various things to a priest, mostly sins or final requests. Some of these people were stubborn old men who would finally share their hidden thoughts with their family or divulge immoral love—anything imaginable could come out in these moments, so Holo was not exactly mistaken.
“How pointless it is to not say important things when you should.”
Lawrence agreed, especially now that he had reached a certain age, and trembled at how fast time flew. Younglings should live fast and wild.
However, just as Lawrence was thinking about how it was much too early for Myuri to fall in love and marry, Holo suddenly spoke.
“Besides, I want to hurry and see the faces of my grandchildren.”
“What! Wha…!”
Lawrence was left speechless, unable to breath in or out. True, they would definitely be cute, but Myuri was still a child. She may have been at the age where it was socially acceptable for her to wed, but she was much too young. There was no mistaking that. There was acceptable by society’s standards, and then there was acceptable by
the family’s standards.
As Lawrence tried to push away the fast-approaching reality, Holo leisurely drank her wine. Her composure came from either the difference between his and her age or the difference between a mother and a father.
It was the same when Col said he was going to leave and began his preparations before finally leaving. It was then they found out their daughter, who had always said she wanted to see the wide world outside the mountain village, had somehow snuck into Col’s luggage.
Traveling came with danger, and thinking on his only daughter’s safety, Lawrence was too impatient to write a letter, but Holo had admonished him when he tried to go after her on a sled.
“It will be fine,” she had laughed.
There was a saying that went, “If you love your children, send them out into the world.” Though he agreed in principle when watching how Holo acted, he could not accept it all.
Holo ignored Lawrence, who was groaning beside her, and she spoke thoughtfully with eyes closed, as though soaking in the baths.
“’Tis good enough, at any rate, if she is enjoying her first journey.”
Though she seemed irresponsible, it was not as though she had no worries. Lawrence glared at Holo, who he felt tended to keep all the best parts of parenthood to herself.
Holo drew him close to her, smiling dryly.
“Everything fades with time. But I shall be by your side forever.”
Holo, shorter than Lawrence, gazed up at him with her beautifully shaped eyes.
“Is there anything wrong with that?”
When she said that, there was no way he could respond. To Holo, who would live for hundreds of years, everything happening before her now was just one scene of a brief journey. It was too much for her, and once she had tried to end things with Lawrence—thinking if she must see him off, it may as well be when goodbyes would not cut so deep. But she had chosen the fleeting happiness over the pain of parting.
Lawrence relaxed his shoulders, giving in to her.
“Don’t be silly.”
“Heh-heh.”
She gave a small laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. He lay his hand atop Holo the Wisewolf, her head round and small enough that his fingers fit snugly around it.
Surely this was the greatest extent of happiness that he could hold onto with his own hands.
And that was more than enough.
“Would you like some more wine?” Lawrence asked, and Holo answered, “Only if you have some, too.”
Lawrence could only laugh. “I can’t win against you.”
Lightly, he kissed the top of her head and handed the empty cask to an astonished Hanna.
That night happened to be the date of the monthly town meeting. In the wavering moonlight, Lawrence carried food and drink along the road, shivering. When he first came to this village, he could not shake the eerie feeling nighttime gave him on this remote mountain, but now he was completely used to it.
And during this season when there were many visitors, inviting fires burned late into the night throughout the entire village, while the sounds of laughter and music drifted all over. The scene had an ethereal, fantastical air about it, and sometimes he would occasionally come out with Holo to gaze upon it.
Along the way, he passed popular musicians as they went from bathhouse to bathhouse and casually exchanged greetings with them. It had been more than ten years since he and Holo settled here, and it felt as though they were finally fitting in.
But this was both a good thing and a bad thing.
“Ooh! Our Sir Lawrence has finally come!”
As he entered the torch-lit community center, cheers bubbled up all at once.
Lawrence was bewildered, but other bathhouse owners came up to him, already red in the face, and patted him on the shoulders.
“Well, well, Lawrence! Let us drink till dawn!”
“Huh? Ah, right.”
Although it had been some ten odd years since they came to this village, most of the bathhouses were as old as Lawrence if they had not been in business for even longer. He had to behave in front of his seniors, but at the same time they were competitors in business, and so they did not act too familiar with their fellows. If anything, these people occasionally stole materials or supplies from one another, and more often than not they were cold and unfriendly toward their peers.
This is sudden, he thought, and one man holding his drink spoke.
“Lawrence, I know it’s tough, but it’s not all hardships!”
“Ah…Um, I’m sorry?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine! We know well how difficult it is to let your daughter go!”
“Huh? Oh yes…”
Lawrence finally realized the identities of the people that kept offering him alcohol.
Most of them were parents with daughters.
“Um, well, it’s not that they would end up together…”
“Oh no, we know you don’t want to accept it, we know!”
Another person aggressively tried to reassure Lawrence, and he offered a vague smile in return. But in his heart, he kept repeating to himself, They’re not eloping, they’re not eloping!
“All right, gentlemen! Sorry to interrupt your merriment, but please leave it for after the meeting.”
There was a clapping of hands, and like awakening from a spell, everyone returned to their seats.
But there were some who, after returning to their seats, still recalled when they married their daughters off and were sobbing. Lawrence saw them and was filled with warmth rather than surprise. Though they were competitors, constantly fighting without mercy over sales and business, they were still members of the same community.
“Well then, today will probably be the last wintertime meeting. In other words, next month the snows should melt, and our customers will depart. And then we’ll have troublesome days ahead of us what with repairing all the buildings as well as preparations for the summer season, and again, allotting our imports.”
Seated at a long table, the bathhouse owners smiled tersely. The roads leading to Nyohhira were small, and they depended on a single town, Svernel, for the delivery of their resources and supplies. It always ended in a scramble for goods.
“Oh, about that, I’ve heard something that worries me.” One man raised his hand and spoke up. “I’ve heard that there’s going to be another hot spring village on the other side of the western mountains.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard that, too.”
“Is that true?”
“If it’s on the other mountain side, how will it affect the flow of patrons…?”
“Silence!”
The chairman cut off the growing murmurs, and quiet fell again. Lawrence had heard the same thing from a musician who said that people might not come to Nyohhira next year.
“I was told that, too, and it’s apparently true,” relayed the owner of Spice and Wolf.
Then anxiety crept into their feet. No one wanted more competition, but what everyone cared about the most was the question of where this new town would get its resources.
“And they might have Svernel supply their materials, too.”
“Oh, God!” someone yelled. Much like how much water a river could hold, the amount one was able to carry deep into the mountains was more or less set in stone.
And should these new competitors get their materials from Svernel, then that meant the new location would have a road straight from the town that guests would take.
This meant two villages would fight over patrons.
“If this were back in my time, we’d be going there now armed with clubs, but that won’t do.”
After the chairman spoke, the crowd’s anxiety became ripples of laughter.
“We are the proud people from the hot spring village, the historically renowned Nyohhira. Every quarrel that soaks in our waters soon softens and mellows. We have no choice but to draw people in with the allure of this land.”
“That’s right!” came voices of ag
reement.
“But what should we do?”
One person asked the obvious question, and everyone clammed up.
The chairman gave a small smile, cleared his throat, and looked suddenly toward Lawrence.
“This is when I propose we seriously consider what Sir Lawrence suggested previously.”
Lawrence felt nervous as everyone turned their eyes on him, but he immediately understood.
“Ah, is this about the new village event?”
“Why, yes.”
Lawrence suggested several years ago to hold something during the off-peak seasons of spring and fall. Spring and fall were crammed full of festivals and markets and religious celebrations all over, so normally no one would go out of their way to visit a far and inconvenient-to-reach spa.
Thus, business slowed to a crawl and it was too expensive to feed and board the helpers that had been hired in the winter, but if they were let go, there was no way to know if they would be able to work again in the summer—such extreme changes in customer turnout throughout the seasons brought about too much waste.
The plan was that if there were some fun event here in the spring and fall, then they could expect new customers.
“But then why did we drop it last time?” one participant wondered aloud.
“I think it was because it seemed like too much work. I want a break in the spring and fall at least.” At the time, Lawrence thought that these owners had lapsed into complacency, but lately he had begun to understand how they felt. Working as a merchant, where potentially lost profits urged him to continually move forward, was different from owning a bathhouse—living in the same place and doing the same work for years.
“While we sit around like that, we might have our legs cut out from underneath us. Like the Church,” the chairman announced gravely, and the bathhouse owners all crossed their arms, grunting.
Lawrence did not know the details, but apparently at the foot of the mountains, the Church had reached a major turning point. They had officially ended their war with the pagans, who, ten years ago, were already a mere shadow of what they used to be. But right when they thought peace had finally arrived, another enemy appeared from within their own ranks. Col had heard about this from a guest and could not stand idly by. “I have to face this critical moment in history, or I’ll regret it for the rest of my life,” he had said.
Spring Log Page 2
