As Lawrence brushed past Holo and patted her on the head, she leaned into him in a visibly coquettish manner. She didn’t seem to be in a good mood.
* * *
“We thank thee, Lord, for our daily bread.”
Before dinner the three of them recited the appropriate prayer from the Bible - something they normally never did. Cole was all smiles as he dug right in, but Holo’s face twisted into a bitter expression befitting a true nun.
She was probably reacting that way because their soup had dried mutton, not the fresh kind, and perhaps even more importantly: a hot soup like this didn’t go well at all with the distilled grape wine they were drinking.
While that may have been a problem on their way here, she couldn’t very well get drunk at the monastery. Lawrence was sure he’d hear her whimpering soon, but alas there was nothing he could do about it. After all, seated before them was the hermit-like Huskins.
To get a better grasp of the situation, Lawrence decided it would be best for them to put on the semblance of being devout travelers. Their only friend here was Pisky, at best. The monastery was practically being taken over by the Ruvik Alliance; Lawrence wasn’t even sure the name of the Rowen Trading Guild had any value here.
Despite Huskins being a mere shepherd, they were blessed with the opportunity to lodge with someone who spent most of his time on the monastery grounds. It was only natural to try to take advantage of that blessing. But like the lid on a jug of water, the man’s lips were tacitly sealing the knowledge in his brain. The trick would be to lift that lid.
As expected he dined in complete silence, expressing neither gratitude nor criticism. Given that he had asked Lawrence’s party to provide his meals, that could be counted as wise: criticizing the taste would likely only result in a conflict.
The problem was that it gave Lawrence no way to lift that lid on his mind. He had no choice but to bide his time and wait for an opportunity to present itself. As he ate, he pondered how to do that until Huskins slowly rose.
The pot was already close to empty, and all that remained was divvying up the remaining broth. Holo’s lips curled upward, not even trying to conceal a greedy smile that practically shouted, “one less person to share it with!” But it was wiped from her face as he sat back down.. until he smoothly tossed in a piece of mutton that had been hanging from the leather rope.
“..Sharing a meal with a group like this ain’t so bad once in a while.”
His voice was barely more audible than ashes collapsing in a fire, but to his guests - who had often had to eat alone – those words were warmer than any greeting. Holo’s mood even seemed to take a turn for the better, and she was already scooping at the mutton that hadn’t even had a chance to stew yet.
Lawrence turned to thank Huskins, only to see the old man pointing a small bottle at him. If the white liquid that dripped along the neck of that bottle was any indication, it was some form of liquor brewed with sheep’s milk. He thankfully drank the wine in his own cup at once so Huskins could pour some of that liquor for him.
“Now that’s a nostalgic taste.”
It was the type of liquor that one either loved or despised, and Lawrence belonged to the latter category. But he understood quite well that this was an offer of friendship from Huskins, at least for the time they were gathered here. Lawrence dramatized his appreciative expression, despite knowing that Holo was probably having a good chuckle at him.
“Mr. Huskins, have you..”
Lawrence pretended to blurt out under the alcohol’s influence, then paused for a moment to observe Huskins’ reaction. Huskins sliced off a bit of the now-cooked mutton and took a bite, then took a sip from his cup and looked at Lawrence.
“Have you always lived here, Mr. Huskins?”
“..I’ve been here for a few decades now, since the time of the last abbot.”
“I see. I’ve been traveling since I was a kid, living the business life. Sometimes I’ve lived in the same region for a while, but I still can’t say I know what it must be like.”
Lawrence continued when Huskins said nothing, sensing that he was listening.
“Oh, that’s right.. I remember hearing that three things never change in the Winfield Kingdom.. how did it go? Just how much truth is there behind that saying, would you say?”
Huskins was working at the mutton in his bowl with a knife, but stopped moving when he heard Lawrence say that. His eyes trailed off into the distance like anyone’s would as they searched their memories for an answer.
“..Arrogant aristocrats, beautiful plains and..”
“And huge flocks of sheep!”
A faint smile seemed to spread on Huskins’ face as Lawrence finished the sentence for him.
“..This place truly hasn’t changed.”
“Sure sounds wonderful.”
“..Do you really think so?”
Huskins let his voice clearly ring out, as if he’d seen through Lawrence’s attempts at flattery from the start. Holo was probably subtly peering at them from under her hood as she ate large mouthfuls of mutton. Her manner was a sure sign that Huskins had indeed seen through him, but Lawrence neither panicked nor cowered. He was a merchant with a great deal of experience.
“Indeed. Take me, for example. When I come back to a place after a year on business, I’ll always tell others with a smile-”
He maintained the smile on his face as he continued.
“It’s good to see this place hasn’t changed.”
“..”
The animal-and-humanlike gray eyes under those long brows then turned to Lawrence. It was the first time Huskins had really taken a good look at Lawrence, and it was quite a powerful stare. The old shepherd then raised his cup of sheep’s milk liquor for a drink, and nodded. The only sound at the table was the bubbling of the pot.
“..This place sure hasn’t changed, and it won’t change in the future either.”
“I’d expect that, since this is the Brondel Monastery after all.”
Again Huskins nodded, then silently poured some more liquor for Lawrence and nodded once more. It seemed Lawrence may have managed to get on his good side. Lawrence couldn’t help but wish he had good-tasting wine instead, to make this moment a perfect one.
“But even a stone wall changes from day to day.”
“..You mean those merchants? Are you saying you guys are different from them?”
This probing manner of speech was quite unique to the Winfield Kingdom. Lawrence downed his liquor in one gulp and revealed a somewhat troubled smile.
“I’m indeed a merchant, but my purpose here is a bit different from the others.”
“..Oh? Coming to such an isolated place, and bringing children of God with you, no less..”
“We’re here on pilgrimage, having heard a rumor about a certain holy relic at the Brondel Monastery.”
Lawrence intentionally didn’t single out the wolf deity’s bones. A huge monastery like Brondel was bound to have a couple such relics, with pilgrims making trips for that very reason. Huskins expressed some surprise, but quickly accepted Lawrence’s explanation. He murmured something indistinctly, as if the words were trapped in his mouth, then nodded.
“..This uninteresting world shows its colors when people travel for different, varied reasons.”
His words would have seemed pretentious coming from the lips of a minstrel, but from his they sounded like a great truth. Lawrence smiled and nodded, helping Huskins to an extra-large portion of the rich soup that remained in the pot.
* * *
Huskins left before daybreak the next morning. It was probably his usual schedule, if the spirited barking of the sheepdogs and conversation among the shepherds was any indication. Lawrence was shivering from the frigid air that seeped its way under the cover, making him cling onto Holo’s ever-reliable tail.
He decided to indulge in the warmth a little longer. But a considerable amount of time passed before he woke up for the second time. The sun was already hi
gh in the sky, its rays sneaking in through the window seams.
He was considering just how lax he had grown, having done no business in quite some time, when he figured out why he slept so soundly. It was delightfully warm under the covers. Holo had slept next to him all night, and kept him warm.
“I sure am reliable.”
Any man should be happy to wake up lying next to a beautiful maiden, but it was a different story when there was a strip of jerky in her mouth. And especially if her breath also stank of alcohol.
Naturally, he knew that she had only done so to avoid having fingers pointed at her, having drunk herself to sleep next to the stove all alone. So since she preferred to sleep all curled up anyway, she decided to curl up here instead. Even Lawrence hated drinking alone, but the simplest answer was usually the correct one – it was warmest for her to hide under the covers.
“..Cole?”
“I do not know. The little fellow busied himself at the stove for a time, then followed that shepherd when the sun rose. To where, I know not.”
As she spoke, the bit of jerky hanging from her mouth gently shook. Lawrence could tell from its color that it was the same mutton Huskins was drying the night before. But he was too tired to chastize Holo, so he just prayed that Huskins wouldn’t notice.
“Then the weather outside must’ve cleared up.”
Being trapped indoors during bad winter weather was common, and the day the weather improved there were always more people standing around outside, chatting excitedly.
“Aye. One of those sheepdogs was still running around outside only a little while back. But it seems to me that someone in here has been cuddling me like a little puppy.”
“It’s certainly warmer than drinking liquor this early in the morning. Alright, let me pass already. I have to go gather information.”
He patted her shoulder but she refused to budge, so he sighed and crawled over her instead. The sun had been up for quite a while now, but that didn’t make it any less cold to leave the covers. As much as he’d prefer returning to bed, where Holo waited with jerky in her mouth, he knew it was the devil tempting him. He opened the wooden window completely, and the sunlight reflecting off the snow instantly shot into his eyes, blurring his vision.
“..Whew. My, what an incredible view.”
“’Tis cold.”
“Seeing the sea made you want to run on it, so doesn’t this wide expanse of snow make you want to do so as well? Ah, so Cole’s been playing with the sheepdogs on the other side.”
The animal farm was just beyond the well, and past the slightly-inclined central courtyard. A young boy was playing around there with several dogs, letting them playfully pounce on him. It was none other than Cole. Suddenly, it then dawned on him that Holo couldn’t possibly play around with the sheepdogs like Cole could. Holo perceived his silent chuckle and threw him a suspicious glare.
“Well, he’ll be back in a little while with the color drained from his lips. You can make fun of him to your heart’s content when he does.”
“..”
Her face seemed disinterested, but her wagging tail was a clear indication that she didn’t dislike the notion. Lawrence entered the next room to discover that the stove still had firewood inside it. Cole hadn’t been lax in his duties. In fact, there was still water in the pail. His performance was impeccable.
Lawrence eyed the drying mutton and saw that it had darkened substantially overnight. He choked down some dry oat bread with some water, then spent some time tidying his facial hair. He knew she wouldn’t follow, but he still asked Holo a useless question.
“Would you like to come with me?”
Naturally, he meant “come with me to gather information about the bones.” After all, she was the one who proposed this search in the first place. As expected, she remained prone on the bed, swishing her tail to and fro with no further reply.
“Then take your time and enjoy yourself.”
As he closed the door behind him, he realized that he’d subconsciously upped the pitch at the end of his sentence and wondered if Holo had noticed it as well. A large number of merchants were gathered here under the banner of the Ruvik Alliance. He was bound to come across a lot of information other than news about the wolf deity’s bones.
It was cold, but the sun’s bright reflection off the snow made it seem even brighter than the summertime. He shielded the confident smile on his face with both hands as he went outside, and strode off.
* * *
“Asseus’ madder, Eroll’s woad, Vito’s oak, and Richter’s saffron.”
“Richter’s saffron is high quality. I hear master Milone wore a beautiful yellow costume at the last banquet he attended.”
“You mean that banquet that shocked even the archbishop of Mira? Thanks to that one, one of my aristocrat regulars bought a bunch of my merchandise and earned me a tidy profit.”
“Oh? I’m envious. But if you need to restock, my shipment of spices should be arriving soon. How about ordering some? They’re from a variety of places..”
Without any context, someone listening to the discussions on either side of the road here would be completely lost. Merchant’s friends were also merchants. If someone did business here, they could probably buy any piece of merchandise in the world. What merchant wouldn’t be moved to joy to be in such a place?
Unlike the others, he was just a poor merchant and had no knowledge of commonly-known expensive goods. But he was confident about his knowledge of unique and obscure rural products. Should he join those merchants over there? No! The ones over here seemed better after all.
He somehow managed to resist the many temptations and found himself at a building with a green flag hanging above its entrance, bearing the moon and shield insignia of the Ruvik Alliance – one of the inns designated for their use.
“There’s no need to knock.”
A group of merchants were holding a spirited conversation about some ironsmith’s shop, when one of them shouted out to Lawrence as he lifted up his hand. Lawrence smiled and nodded in acknowledgment, to which all of the merchants raised their hats slightly and smiled back.
“This place really is like paradise for merchants.”
He couldn’t help but murmur this as he opened the door.
“Excuse me, is Mr. Pisky here?”
“Hmm.. Pisky? Oh, you mean Lago. He’s inside writing, over there.”
“My thanks.”
There was always a recreation hall set up on the first floor of foreign firms and inns. Having expressed his thanks, Lawrence made his way to that end of the building. There were twenty-some tables there, with people playing cards, holding discussions around maps, or weighing coins on scales.
Pisky seemed dead set on whatever he was writing, his hand furiously moving around the table. Lawrence hesitated to disturb him, but Pisky was an experienced traveling merchant with instincts sharp enough to notice mercenaries lying in ambush two hilltops away. He lifted his eyes, saw it was Lawrence, and faintly smiled.
“Good morning, Mr. Lawrence. Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yes, thanks to you. I wish I could say that tonight will be the same.”
“Oh my. Why’s that?”
Pisky acted in response, playing along with Lawrence’s affected intonation. He was indeed an impressive young man. Lawrence pointed up at his eyes, thinking that there was much to learn from him.
“I’ve never seen a bespectacled traveling merchant. I just might be kept up all night in envy.”
“Oh, you mean these? Hahaha! Well, this is a monastery in the land of writing. Many no-longer-needed pairs can be found lying around here.. these aren’t my own.”
The making of glass was difficult enough, but forming it into a lens truly required the skills of an accomplished glassmaker. Spectacles were a rare and expensive commodity, but for monks whose job it was to constantly transcribe the fine strokes and intricate lines of ornamental letters, they were practically a necessity.
Lawrence noticed a limestone tablet on the table, with the names and quantities of many products chiseled into it. Pisky seemed to be writing up a manifest of the items he needed to purchase and transport here for his next visit.
“A lone businessman needs only to remember the products he must procure. But one in an organization needs to keep clear records of their purchases.”
“Well, written records are more accurate than memory, as the saying goes. That, and once you’ve joined an organization you’ll end up recorded in the Church’s burial records when you die, and not just etched in the memories of your companions.”
“Eeeexactly. Ah, praise the Lord for his blessing.”
Pisky dabbed his quill pen into an inkwell, Then continued writing with a smile.
“I beg your pardon for writing while I talk. I take it you’re here to find out what our situation is?”
“..Is it really alright for you to say it out loud like that?”
“Hahaha! Rest assured, everyone here knows everyone else, so outsiders are always under surveillance.”
Lawrence refrained from looking around foolishly, and just maintained the smile on his face. The smile on Pisky’s face remained as he cast a surprisingly acute stare in Lawrence’s direction.
“Your ticket here was Mr. Deutschmann’s trust, so rest easy. I’m even tempted to ask just what information you gave that won him over.. but that’s probably a trade secret, isn’t it?”
His smile became a mischievous one. In turn, a natural smile surfaced on Lawrence’s face, as he reminded himself to not let his guard down.
“Alas, that is the case.”
“Then I’ll stop troubling you about it. In any case, our opponent currently seems unwilling to give in, even as they cling to a fortress that’s logically on the verge of collapse. Our extensive efforts seem to have left them sore, so they’re taking a slight break.”
“..They’re still holding on, despite being attacked on all sides?”
Spice & Wolf X (DWT) Page 9
