Also, given the city’s labyrinthine interior, it was common sense to enter via the gate nearest one’s destination—the city was just that big.
As they parted, Lawrence looked back over his shoulder at the girl and saw that Norah was still watching him and Holo. When she saw Lawrence turn, Norah waved wistfully to them.
He couldn’t very well not wave back, but he was afraid of being mocked by Holo. Lawrence stole a sideways glance at her, which the wolf girl noticed.
“You think me so ill-natured?”
Lawrence grinned, pained, then faced forward after returning Norah’s wave.
“Hmph. Well, now we’ll see how those honeyed peach preserves taste! I am surely looking forward to that.”
“Hm. So you remembered that, did you?” Lawrence said. As they approached the gate, he considered how much of his load of armor he would lose to the entrance tax.
“Surely you’re not saying you won’t buy any!” Holo was intimidating, despite her sweet smile and modestly tilted head.
Lawrence averted his eyes and muttered almost as if he were praying. “We can’t buy any if they aren’t selling any.”
“Well, naturally,” said Holo, as if entirely confident that the preserves would be for sale.
“Oh, and you probably know this already, but try to act a little more nunlike at the next checkpoint. They’ll be more lenient on a nun.”
“Hmph. I’m not so foolish as to stir up trouble in a city such as this. But do I even resemble a nun?”
“There’s no trouble on that count.”
As soon as he said it, Lawrence regretted it. Holo had endured much suffering at the hands of the Church. Saying she looked like a nun might make her angry.
“Heh, is that so?” Holo said, giggling. She seemed happy—surprisingly so.
“...What, you’re not angry?”
“Hm? Why would I be?”
“Well, I mean...the Church is your enemy, more or less.”
“Not necessarily. ’Tis the same as having someone like you around. Nuns are all fundamentally kind, and even a wolf like me can tell that most of them are quite lovely. Beauty transcends species.”
For his part, Lawrence understood well enough but was mostly glad she wasn’t cross.
And it was true that many nuns were beautiful. This may well have been partially because they were so assiduously meek, pure, and ascetic, but there was also the fact that the illegitimate child of many a noble became a nun.
Many a beautiful woman contrived to use her beauty to become the mistress of a wealthy noble, and many a fetching noble daughter was seduced by a rake, who wielded poetry and art like a weapon.
Often the children resulting from such liaisons were more hale and healthy than their legitimate siblings—most likely because the men and women able to seduce nobility were formidable themselves.
Such children were the cause of a fair share of succession struggles, but most of them would enter an abbey—thus many of the abbey’s brothers and sisters were handsome indeed.
“I don’t think I could suffer the constant fasting, though,” said Holo.
Lawrence laughed openly.
As they progressed down the road that ran alongside the great wall, a lively group of people became visible at its end.
It was the southeast entrance.
The huge gate was flung open, and while some people entered the city, others left, setting out on their travels.
The inspections of people and goods were conducted as one passed through the walls, and despite the volume of traveler s. there was little waiting since so many inspectors were on duty.
However, unlike Poroson, not a single person bothered to form a line, so unless one was familiar with the protocol, it was possible to wind up standing outside the gate for hours. Lawrence knew the procedure, though, and he guided his horse forward, trying his best to avoid colliding with anyone; threading his way past less-knowledgeable folk; and finally arriving at the road that passed under the archway, carved out of the stone wall, which led into the city. In times of war, this was an important point to defend, so the walls here were very thick. Lawrence glanced up to see a thickly timbered gate suspended above the crowds, and with a chill, he wondered what would happen if it were to fall—though he’d never heard of such an accident. Just past the gate, there was an opening in the roof through which boiling oil could be poured on invading enemies should they breach the wall. The stone around the opening was discolored, perhaps due to frequency of use.
Just past the walls was the inspection checkpoint, and beyond that, Lawrence could see the streets of Ruvinheigen.
Any large city hemmed in by walls—not just Ruvinheigen—had to expand upward, rather than outward, owing to limited space. Ruvinheigen was particularly challenged in this regard, and the city which greeted Lawrence was reminiscent of a ship’s hold piled high with goods. Several buildings looked ready to overflow at any moment. Still beyond those, he could see the high, high roof of Ruvinheigen’s great cathedral.
“You there, merchant!” a voice called out.
Lawrence shifted his attention to a guard wearing thin leather armor who pointed at him.
“Staring at the city will get you in an accident!” chided the guard.
“My apologies.”
There was a titter at Lawrence’s side.
“Next! Uh, you there! The merchant that just got scolded!”
It was difficult to navigate without a proper line. Lawrence choked down the embarrassing brand and guided his horse toward the inspector, bowing in greeting.
“Passage papers,” demanded the inspector impatiently.
“Right here.”
“Hm. Out of Poroson, eh? Your goods?”
“Twenty sets of armor.”
Commerce was prohibited outside the walls, so it was required t hat a merchant’s load match the travel document.
The inspector blinked rapidly. He seemed surprised.
“Armor? From Poroson?”
“Ah, yes. I bought them from the Latparron Company in Poroson. Is there a problem?”
Ruvinheigen had been founded when knights’ companies tasked with suppressing the pagans had set up fortifications, and to this day, the city remained an important supply depot for soldiers heading north. Weapons and armor from surrounding areas were imported here and flew off shelves immediately.
Lawrence was thus puzzled by the inspector’s reaction, but the official just shook his head and turned his attention to the wagon bed. The cart contained twenty sets of helms, gauntlets, breastplates, and greaves—all fashioned out of leather and chain mail. The wine had not been merchandise for sale but would still have been taxed. However, it had long since been drunk dry.
There was nothing suspicious, and the inspector seemed satisfied. He climbed atop the wagon to verify that no taxable items like gold or jewels were hidden within the armor; then, appeased, he climbed back down. He gave the bundle of firewood a cursory check, but hiding anything within it would have been impossible.
“This does seem like Poroson armor. Will you be paying in coin or stock?”
The armor was worth one hundred lumione total, so the 10 percent tax would amount to ten lumione.
Ten lumione itself came to more than three hundred pieces of trenni silver, and no merchant would travel carrying so much coin. It would have been inconvenient for the inspector to count out three hundred pieces even if Lawrence had them.
Handing over some of the armor itself as tax solved all these problems.
“Stock,” said Lawrence.
“Good answer,” replied the inspector, which elicited a sigh of relief from Lawrence. “Turn in two sets of armor over there,” he said, recording something with a quill on a piece of paper, which he handed to Lawrence.
Two suits of armor out of twenty satisfied the 10 percent tax.
Lawrence nodded after confirming the accuracy of the receipt.
For Holo’s part, she was every inch a nun and thus wen
t unquestioned. This was a city of the Church, and suspicion of priests or nuns was likely more trouble than it was worth.
In any case, relieved that he’d gotten through the checkpoint smoothly, Lawrence descended from the wagon, then took hold of the reins, and walked on. It would only become more crowded—and thus dangerous—ahead.
The area around the tax collection point was like a war, a din of colliding languages and clothing. Lawrence could hear the same haggling and begging one heard at any site where taxes were remitted.
Naturally, he didn’t engage in anything so foolish as haggling over taxes and obediently handed over the required two suits of armor.
However, the clerk took a look at the receipt Lawrence received from the inspector and knitted his brow.
Lawrence was suddenly nervous—had there been some impropriety? But no, it seemed everything was in order.
Unclear as to what had just happened, Lawrence passed through the checkpoint and into the city, climbing back atop the wagon.
The reaction of the inspector on seeing the cargo of armor was a mystery, but Lawrence had made it through, so there no more cause for concern.
He muttered reassurances to himself, but a certain uneasiness remained.
“Hey, merchant,” said Holo.
Lawrence was suddenly unsettled at the sound of Holo’s voice, as though he was about to hear something unpleasant. “What?”
Holo spoke slowly in response to Lawrence’s question. “Mm. I am hungry.”
Lawrence looked ahead again, ignoring both Holo’s complaint and his own lingering unease.
The great cathedral of Ruvinheigen is so massive that it is visible from anywhere in the city. The metropolis spreads out around the cathedral—the district closest to it is known as the old city, hemmed in by the old city walls, and surrounding those walls, in turn, is the rest of Ruvinheigen.
In the southern part of the roughly circular municipality was its biggest gate, and passing through the structure—which was large enough to allow siege engines through—there was a plaza so wide as to be the envy of any foreign king, with a fountain created using the latest craftsmanship available in the south and a permanent marketplace.
Around the edges of the plaza sat the great trading firms of the region, the homes of true power and influence in the city, all linked at the eaves.
Beyond them were smaller trading companies and the homes and shops of a wide variety of craftsmen.
The great cathedral stood in the middle of another of Ruvinheigen’s plazas, which were arranged as a great pentagon with the southern gate at its peak. Each plaza had its own characteristics, almost like a city within a city.
Lawrence and Holo passed through the southeast entrance, and though the square they entered could hardly be compared to the great southern plaza, it was still sizable.
In the center of the square stood striking statues of knights, who had accomplished some memorable deed in the war against the pagans, and saints, who had made some important contribution to the faith.
Scores of stalls were lined up in the plaza with people on straw mats hawking their wares within the structures.
There were no stalls around the bronze statues, though. Instead, an ensemble traded musical phrases with a minstrel playing a plain wooden flute while a famous troupe of comedic actors plied their trade. Mingling with the entertainers were pilgrim priests, clad in rags and wielding tattered books of scripture as they preached; t heir rapturously attentive disciples wore even worse clothing.
It seemed like the order of the day in the district was getting a light snack at one of the booths, watching the performers, and taking in a sermon after you had your fun.
After Lawrence and Holo arranged for a room at an inn and stabled the horse, they started for the trading house to begin their business arrangements when they found themselves drawn toward the commotion of happy voices and delicious scents.
They held some fried lamprey eel, which seemed to be a popular snack. The sweetness of the oil masked the earthy smell of the stuff, and no sooner had you finished a piece than you wanted another, which seemed to be human nature. The next thing Lawrence knew, he and Holo had stopped in front of a drink stand, taking in the comedy show over some beer.
"Mmm, that’s tasty,” said Holo after she drained one cup, and with foam still clinging to the corners of her mouth, she ordered another round. The barman was only too happy to serve such a profitable customer.
Having snacked on fried eel and beer all afternoon, Holo no longer looked anything like a nun.
The outfit she used upon entering the city would have been less convincing because of Lawrence’s presence—nothing was fishier than a person of faith traveling with a merchant, after all.
So Holo had switched her robe for a rabbit-skin cape, but she folded the robe up and wrapped it about her waist, using the resulting makeshift skirt to hide her tail. Her perpetually troublesome ears were concealed under a triangular kerchief.
Thus had Holo transformed from nun to town lass. The square was packed with girls who had abandoned work for an afternoon of fun, so she hardly stood out. The way she drank, with no regard for her coin purse, made it easy to think she was parting some guileless merchant from his money.
Actually, as Lawrence paid in advance, the barman seemed to think it was he who had been tripped up by this casually expensive girl.
Lawrence gave the man a pained smile to deflect the issue, but the barman wasn’t necessarily wrong, either.
“The liquor is good and the people lively—’tis a good city, no?”
“The liveliness comes at a price—we have to watch ourselves, especially around any knights or mercenaries. A quarrel with their ilk will be more trouble than we need.”
“You can count on me,” said Holo.
Lawrence sighed instead of voicing his thoughts on the matter. “Right, well, we should be moving on.”
He had finished his second beer while Holo had downed four in the same amount of time, so it seemed an opportune moment to leave.
“Mm? Already? I’ve not yet begun to drink.”
“You can drink more tonight. Let’s go.”
Looking back and forth from Lawrence to her cup, Holo finally seemed to give up and backed away from the stall. The barman called out “come again!” and his voice disappeared into the crowd alongside Lawrence and Holo.
“So, then, where do we go?”
“To the trading house—and at least wipe your mouth, hm?”
Only now aware of the foam at the corners of her mouth, Holo brought her sleeve to her lips as if to wipe them.
However, thinking better of this at the last second, she instead grabbed Lawrence’s sleeve and wiped her mouth on it.
“Why, you—I’ll remember that.”
“And yet you’ve already hit me,” said Holo, holding his head off with one hand and glaring at him, her other hand firmly clamped around Lawrence’s.
Her anger at being poked lasted but a moment.
“Still,” she continued.
“Hm?”
“Why must you drag me along to this trading house? I’d just as soon drink my fill in the square.”
“It’s too dangerous to leave you alone,” warned Lawrence.
Holo looked blank for a moment, then giggled bashfully—perhaps she’d misunderstood.
“Mm, ’tis true. I am a bit too lovely to be left alone!”
It was true that Holo, with the fall of her red-brown hair swaying, tended to attract attention, and some of those who looked on must have envied Lawrence, who held her hand.
It wasn’t that he didn’t take a bit of pride in walking around with Holo, but the fact was that there was no telling what trouble he would get into if left on her own.
The square was a fun, lively place, but fun, lively places seemed to attract more than their share of trouble. If by some fluke her true form was exposed there, it would be disastrous.
"No amount of loveliness will put Church gua
rds or temple knights off your tail,” said Lawrence. “What if you get drunk and let your ears or tail show?”
“Why, I’ll just turn on them. I’ll grab you in my jaws, and we’ll dash from the city. I can surely leap over those walls. Isn’t there some old story about a knight and a princess like that?”
“What, the one where the knight rescues the captured princess?”
“That’s the one!” said Holo, amused. For Lawrence, there wasn't a trace of romance in the idea of Holo assuming her wolf form and escaping with him between her teeth.
Quite the contrary, just the thought of being clamped between those great jaws made Lawrence want to shudder.
“Well, don’t do that,” he said.
“Mm. If you’re the one that’s captured, there’s little gain in res cuing you.”
Lawrence made a pained expression and looked at Holo, who eyed him mischievously.
The two of them passed around the swirl of people and headed north on a narrow lane where storefronts stood under the sparkling, sunlit eaves that lined the block. There were no trading companies here, but rather buildings with merchant unions and trading houses. Some were economic associations created by mixed groups of merchants from different areas; others were buildings for craft unions created by textile merchants who cooperated regardless of their origin.
The world offered no protection for merchants who met with danger or accidents. Just as knights wore helms and breastplates, merchants banded together to assure their own safety. The latest economic alliances were a match for even a merchant’s worst enemy: a nation bent on abusing its power.
One famous story had eighteen regions and twenty-three guilds coming together in the most powerful economic alliance ever created, matching forces with an army fourteen thousand strong and claiming victory almost instantly. The union that was formed to preserve profits transcended borders and was a good example of the solidarity to which such groups could give rise.
For that reason, the buildings these unions and associations made use of were somehow quite orderly, and those that frequented them conducted themselves politely.
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