She seemed vaguely displeased, but there was no teasing in her voice. Perhaps she was genuinely concerned for him. Lawrence rubbed the slick sweat off the back of his neck. If Holo broke out with a sweat like this, he knew he would be worried about her.
“It was a very...intense conversation.”
After he emerged from under the blanket, the cold morning air seemed to freeze the sweat once it made contact with his body.
Holo sat on her own bed and tossed him a cloth, which
Lawrence accepted gratefully before stopping short of actually using it.
“I, uh...appreciate the gesture.”
“I ought to get my scent on you, after all.”
Holo seemed to have used the cloth while grooming her fur, it was covered in the stuff.
If he tried to dry himself off with it, Lawrence doubted it would go well.
“I am worried about you,” said Holo.
“Sorry.”
When Lawrence was the one worried, she would give him no end of teasing, but apparently she could not abide the situation being reversed.
“As you might have guessed, there’s talk of a huge business opportunity.”
“From that fox?”
Lawrence would have pegged Eve as a wolf, but Holo was a true wolf and seemed to see Eve as a fox.
“Yes. Or more properly, from Eve, that merchant woman, and Arold, the master of this inn.”
“Hnn.”
“Oh, indeed?” seemed to be Holo’s reply, though it was far from indifferent.
Her tail was slightly fluffed up.
“Having only heard what they had to say, I haven’t figured out the angle yet, and of course, I haven’t given them an answer. But...”
Holo smoothed down the fur of her fluffed-up tail, replying with narrowed eyes, “But?”
“The profit is—”
“Greater than my preference?” Holo interrupted.
Lawrence closed his mouth, started to speak again, then stopped.
Holo was undoubtedly trying to say that before great profit came great danger.
A dog that burns itself on the hearth will never again approach it.
Only humans were foolish enough to burn themselves trying to snatch a chestnut from a fire again and again.
But roasted chestnuts were sweet indeed, so Lawrence reached into the blazing flames.
“It is great.”
Holo slowly narrowed her red-tinged eyes. She stopped tending to her tail and scratched audibly at the base of her ears. But even then, Lawrence could not give up on Eve’s proposal. He thought hack to the first time he had argued with his old master.
“The profit is this inn itself—or that and more.”
Holo could not fail to understand what that meant.
Lawrence anticipated that and spoke simply and plainly.
There was silence for a time.
All that kept it from being unbearable to Lawrence were Holo’s red-tinged eyes, which were now nearly as round as the full moon.
“That would be...quite close to fulfilling your dream, would it not?”
“It would,” replied Lawrence earnestly. Holo’s knife-sharp mood vanished as though it had never been there, and she flicked her right ear back for a moment.
“What is there to debate, then?” she finally said. “I seem to recall that owning a shop is your dream, and if that’s so, I’ve no call to stop you.”
Holo took her tail in her hands and began to groom it.
She seemed somehow at a loss with him.
Unable to cope with her unexpected reaction, Lawrence stood rooted to the spot.
He’d prepared himself for her to categorically refuse—or if she had at least said the scheme was too dangerous, that would have been useful information toward determining the truth behind Eve’s words.
Of course, the deal might be the chance of a lifetime, but if it seemed the danger outweighed the gain, he could let it go by.
He could always make money again.
But he would never meet another Holo.
“What ails you? You look like a neglected hound,” she said. Lawrence had been reflexively stroking his beard, and he felt like she had somehow hit the bull’s-eye.
“Were you so happy being opposed by me?”
Holo’s tail was chestnut brown, but the underside of it was snow white in the middle.
She combed it with her fingers, forming a white ball of fur.
“I assumed you would refuse, then I could go with the prevailing winds and nicely withdraw,” said Lawrence honestly, and Holo grinned an exasperated grin at this.
“So you expected Ld shine some light on things with my usual wits and foresight.”
“That was part of it.”
“And the rest?”
There was no point in hiding what he felt. If he did, she would merely dig it up and toy with him.
“Well, here you are making that irritated face—” he began..
Holo chuckled dryly. “You dunce,” she said briefly.
“—so I would ask you in return: Why the sudden change? You hated the idea of me getting involved in business here.”
“Hmph,” Holo sniffed, but was it because a bit of fluff had stuck to her nose or was she sniffing at his words?
Probably the latter, he decided, but she didn’t seem too upset “You really are...ah, ’tis not worth saying. I know well what a fool you are. And ’tis a burden on me, ordering you about all the time."
You can’t be serious, Lawrence thought—and perhaps sensing this, she gave him a threatening glare, as though she would truly tear him to pieces.
“Honestly...,” Holo continued. “In the end, I spoke and acted only out of my own interest. For example, I do feel that simply being able to roam about with you is the best thing for me. All the times I acted as though I was teaching you some great truth of the world, it was just to keep traveling with you. In truth, it was painful.”
She took the white ball of collected fluff and blew it aloft, then glumly turned her attention down to her tail.
No, more than glum—her expression said concretely, “This is absurd.”
“You should weigh the danger you risk against the profit you stand to gain and act if you feel it is worth it. Wasn’t it always your dream to own a shop? I don’t want to get in the way of that.”
“You’re not in the way—”
“And anyway, if I hadn’t come along, you’d be able to get involved in anything you wanted, and if your opponent tried to deceive you, you’d be at the ready, waiting to outsmart him and make a huge profit. You had the spirit and recklessness to do that, didn't you? Have you forgotten it?”
At Holo’s prodding, Lawrence felt an old memory return to him.
Back in the port town of Pazzio, he had certainly possessed that much initiative. He had been desperate for profit, and would do things no one would believe to overcome what danger there was.
But it was hard to imagine that was only a few months ago. Not even half a year had passed, and yet it felt like those things had happened in the distant past.
Holo curled up into a ball on the blanket, facing Lawrence, her tail wrapped under her in such a way that it came up to the tip of her chin. “Nothing defends its nest like a human male does.”
"Er—” was all that Lawrence could manage at her statement.
He only realized it now that he’d been told. The fortress that had grown within him was a defensive one, created when he had felt he would be alone forever.
“But I cannot blame you for that. You...no, I always found your face rather charming when it was so scared of me.”
This last jape of hers threw Holo’s feelings into still sharper relief.
Of course, that might have been part of her plan.
“I was always quite selfish in my dealings with you. You could stand to be a bit selfish with me, too. And if you’d rather forget about me..
Lawrence was about to quickly say that he wanted to do no suc
h thing, but he noticed what Holo was trying to do and swallowed his words.
“You can safely turn your back to me. Right up until you get bitten."
Holo smiled, showing her fangs.
There probably wasn’t a merchant alive who kept track of their debts and obligations as carefully as Holo did.
And Lawrence knew many merchants who had established households, and though they were tenacious men, they had fully lost their fight.
If he himself was happy being a thrifty, traveling merchant, then so be it.
But when he asked himself if he was indeed happy with that. Lawrence found he was not so worn-out that he could answer in the affirmative.
After he saw Holo to her homeland and returned to his travel and trading, it would not be so very long before he could raise the capital to open a shop.
But when compared with an inn and the management rights to go with it, that dream seemed desperately humble. With a building and those rights, plus assets to spend as he wished, just thinking about the possibilities was almost frightening.
Could he do it? Lawrence realized he wanted to try.
“Still, there were things about the deal they proposed that made me hesitate.”
“Oh?” Holo looked up, interested.
Lawrence scratched his head and mustered his strength. “In order to raise the amount of money they need for the deal, they have to use you.”
Holo’s expression remained neutral, as if to say, “Go on.”
“They’re going to pass you off as a noble maiden and put you in pawn to a trading company.”
Holo snorted as soon as she heard this. “Don’t tell me that’s what gave you such sweats last night.”
“...You aren’t angry?”
“I am only angry if you thought I would be.”
He had heard that line before.
Yet Lawrence did not understand what she was getting at.
“You still do not understand?”
Lawrence felt like a young merchant’s apprentice, who had been asked a simple question but was unable to answer it.
“You truly are just unbelievable...” said Holo. “Am I not your partner? Or am I just a maiden you fancy yourself protecting?” When it was put to him that way, Lawrence finally understood. “Do I not have some of my own virtues? If I can be of some use to your trade, then happily would I turn myself in!”
That was definitely a lie, but it was clear that as long as certain conditions were fulfilled, Holo trusted Lawrence enough to risk even a significant amount of danger.
If Lawrence had failed to recognize her trust in him...well, no wonder she was angry.
And those conditions were to trust her as a partner to grant his mildly unreasonable requests, to trust her as a wisewolf to keep him from falling into disaster, and finally, to respect her as a person of equal status.
As long as he didn’t forget these things, Lawrence could ask her whatever he wished, and she wouldn’t feel used.
“So I truly need your cooperation,” he said.
“Hmph. I was a stand-in for you once before, but that was to thank you for being kind to me. This time, there’s no thanking.''
It wasn’t as thanks nor was it a favor given or received.
Then what was it?
Not money nor obligation.
All of Lawrence’s relationships so far had been zero-sum; the amount given equaled the amount taken. If something was lent, he expected it returned, and if he was the borrower, he had to pay the debt. Even “friendly” relationships were changed by credit into ones of transaction.
Holo was different, an entirely new kind of relationship.
But just as Lawrence realized what the most suitable term for it was, Holo gave him a look that said unmistakably, “Stop what you’re saying.”
“So, is there aught else you’re worried about?” she asked.
“Of course. I’m worried it may be a trap.”
Holo giggled. “If your opponent has a scheme, counter it. The bigger their scheme…”
She had said the same thing just after they’d met and a shady young merchant had tried to bring Lawrence in on a deal.
“The bigger the scheme, the bigger the profit when you upset it."
Holo stroked her tail and nodded. “I am Holo the Wisewolf, ’Twould be a fine thing, indeed, if my partner were some worthless merchant.”
Lawrence laughed—they had had this conversation before.
Time did pass, and people changed.
He didn’t know whether that was good or bad.
But he did know that having a partner to share this with made him happy.
“So, then,” said Holo.
“Yes?”
And in any case, her name was deeply engraved on his soul, it seemed.
Her thoughts were entirely clear to him.
Lawrence smiled. “Breakfast, right?”
The first thing they needed to do was lay the groundwork.
If they could ascertain whether Eve was truly a statue merchant, whether her source of payment was really the Church, and whether she had really quarreled with them, this would tell them a lot.
Holo stayed in their room, saying she was going to read the books they had borrowed from Rigolo.
When she told him to go run about the city as he wished,
Lawrence found himself wanting to say thanks. That seemed rather awkward, though, so instead he told her, “Enjoy your books, and don’t cry too much.”
Lying on her stomach, flipping through the pages, her only reply was to swish her tail dismissively. Her ears flicked minutely, probably because he had said something she didn’t want to hear.
The mood downstairs was a bit strange given the previous night, but Lawrence gave Arold a quick greeting before heading out.
As long as he had the brisk morning air, the energetic town, and the warm sunlight, things could not be so very bad.
Lawrence started walking immediately.
He had no acquaintances in this city, and his only source of information was the barmaid of the Beast and Fish Tail. As this time of day was particularly busy for wine sellers and butchers who needed to buy up their supplies, though, Lawrence decided to head first to the church.
The town was of moderate size and the streets were complicated, so Lawrence had not yet seen the church, but he did have the impression that its standing within the town was reasonably strong.
By the time one got into the vicinity of Lenos, pagans were hardly rare, and it was common enough to have one as a neighbor.
One would think this would imply a lessening of power on the part of the Church, but on the contrary, it only drove the true believers’ morale higher.
They believed that hardships were trials sent by God, so it made a certain amount of sense. Arolds strong desire to go on a pilgrimage to the south was probably rather common here.
The most fervent believers could always be found where the Church’s power was weakest.
Perhaps this was because without being prepared to endure, the flame of their faith would surely be extinguished by the storms of paganism—or perhaps those storms were like a wind to a bonfire.
On that count, there was no reason to doubt Eve’s importation of stone statues. There was surely a demand for them.
But that didn’t mean there was no call for doubt at all.
Lawrence bought some rye bread from a baker and asked directions, and when he saw the church, he immediately gave voice to his impressions.
“It’s like a vault.”
It was less a church and more a stone-carved temple.
The design was familiar, but the atmosphere itself was different.
He passed through the doors and into the church where a handful of people were performing their morning worship.
One could tell if a church had money by looking at its entrance. Nobody appreciated a church interior that lacked a sense of age, of ancientness, but the entrance was different. As the entrance was worn down and warped
by people walking through it, a church with money could pay for appropriate maintenance. It was purely a display of wealth.
And this particular church’s entrance, despite all the people that passed through it, was a series of beautifully carved stone steps.
It was clear that the church of Lenos had money.
So—what about their expenditures?
Lawrence cast his eye about, looking for a likely spot.
Between the church and a group of three smaller buildings was an alley that ran into the interior of the block. Just a short distance down it was a space where the hustle and bustle of the town and the light of day did not reach—along with those who lived in that space.
As Lawrence walked down the path, none of the people so much as looked up at him.
It would take a keen incantation indeed to rouse them from their sleep.
“The blessings of God be upon you,” said Lawrence to one of them.
It had been hard to tell whether the man was dead or just sleeping, but his eyes now snapped open. “Hnn!...Oh. Not giving alms, are you?” he said, his voice a mixture of anticipation and disappointment.
Lawrence looked the man over from head to toe—he certainly didn’t seem to be a man of the Church.
Offering some of the still-warm rye bread to the man, Lawrence gave his best merchant’s smile. “No alms, I’m afraid. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
The man’s face flushed at the sight of the bread. He didn’t seem to be one to quibble. “Hell, ask anything you like.”
He devoured the rye bread with a speed that surprised even Lawrence, who had grown used to Holo’s gluttonous eating, then grinned a toothy grin.
“It’s about the church,” Lawrence said.
“What do you want to know? How many mistresses the priest has? Who the father of the child that nun gave birth to a while back was?”
“Those are fascinating, but no. I was wondering how much bread this church bakes.”
Obviously the church was not a bakery. He was asking instead how much bread the church distributed to the needy. There were churches and abbeys whose finances declined to the point where they did not do such work, but most of them did in proportion to the state of their coffers.
And as a result, the recipients of that charity naturally knew the state of the church’s kitchen.
“Heh, it’s been some time since I’ve been asked that.”
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