“They said that ink had gotten rather expensive because of little Col and Myuri, no?”
“Yeah. And you need a dense forest in order to guarantee a lot of gnarls on the trees.”
“Dear.” Holo grinned.
The world was occasionally like this, too.
“This idea will protect the forest while still being useful to the villagers at the same time. If they can produce a lot of the expensive ink, then they can make more money for a much longer time than from lumber, which stops being useful once the tree’s cut.”
“And it means ink for me!”
Lawrence left the forest side by side with Holo, told Beavery of the sequence of events and how to make ink and its price range. Ink was an excellent product where a small amount brought in a large sum of money; unlike alcohol, they could expect plenty of profit even after taking it to faraway places, and even children could gather and process the gallnuts. It was hard to differentiate between the people who could and could not contribute to earning money, so they could avoid the creation of an odd discord within the village.
“I expected nothing less from the renowned Sir Lawrence!”
Beavery treated him with excessive acclaim and lined their dinner table that night with another fabulous meal.
Holo wrote down right away what they had to eat that day with the ink Beavery gave her, and when Lawrence peeked at her writing as she dozed off in her seat from all the alcohol, he saw his name and the sentence, The fool is sometimes of use.
“You can leave the fool part out.”
Lawrence smiled wryly, scooping Holo up from where she dozed in her chair, and carried her to bed.
Once he put the eternal princess to bed, he returned to the moonlit bundles of paper.
These would be filled with even more words in the future.
Sometimes the stories would be exciting and sometimes not so exciting.
“But they’ll all be good memories,” Lawrence murmured as he placed his hand on the window.
He closed it, just as though he was closing a book.
That was only one scene of their long, long journey.
THE EGGS OF A JOURNEY AND WOLF
The breeze that day was slightly chilly.
It had been almost two weeks since they left behind the hot spring village of Nyohhira to go on their trip. Since it had been over ten years since the former merchant Lawrence had last traveled, he stumbled a bit at the beginning, but he had finally gotten his traveling senses back.
The winding mountain roads had come to an end, leaving them on a road that crossed a flat plain with nothing to obstruct their view, and they were fully enjoying the mundanity of travel.
“Yaaaaaawn.”
But the source of that massive yawn was not Lawrence. Behind him was Holo, his partner, lying across a pile of blankets in the cart bed. She had been enjoying some elegant sunbathing the whole day.
“Dear, are we…yaaawn…there yet…?”
The air was chilly, suggestive of autumn, but the sunshine on the fields around them still carried hints of summer.
Nothing could compare to how nice it felt to have the cool breeze caress his cheek after sweating slightly from the sun.
Holo, who would take naps whenever she had the chance even in Nyohhira, was relaxing as she pleased.
But today, she was especially lax, rolling about on her blankets like a house pet.
The reason for that could be found in the barrel she held.
She had scooped out some honey from the beehive they just so happened to get in the forest a few days ago and had added it to her wine. She then placed the cask under the blankets, and after a few days, her ready-to-drink mead was complete.
She had woken up rather early today and quickly undid the stopper on the cask she had put away. Once she grew tipsy enough after lapping up some of the mead, she would doze off, then lap up some more once she woke, repeating that over and over.
It was the height of luxury.
“Almost. Once we merge with the highway, there will be more people passing us. Be careful.”
“Fool…I am not that much of…a…”
The rest of her sentence vanished in her mumbles. Lawrence glanced over his shoulder to see Holo had fallen asleep faceup, mouth half-open.
Holo looked like a girl of fourteen or fifteen if she kept her mouth shut, but this slovenly attitude also suited her. It was almost poetic how her flaxen-colored hair glittered in the sunlight and her bangs rustled softly in the wind.
But if that were all, then they would have had no reason to mind the gazes of others. She would have simply been an energetic girl enjoying her travels.
The problem was that unfortunately, Holo was not just any girl.
It was not only her beautiful flaxen hair that shone in the sun and danced in the wind. She had large, triangular wolf ears on her head and a tail with thick fur and a beautiful lay grew from her rear.
Holo was the avatar of a wolf who resided in wheat, whose true form was massive, and who would live in dignity for centuries.
At least…that was what she called herself.
“Good grief…”
Lawrence sighed when he saw her innocent sleeping face, but he could not help a corner of his mouth raising in a smile.
She called herself the wisewolf, and her wisdom and insight were truly impressive, but when she acted silly like this, he grew weak.
“What a handful.”
He mumbled to himself with a wry smile, and he was not sure exactly who that was meant for.
Lawrence shrugged, and when he took a piece of jerky from the small linen bag beside him and placed it in his mouth, his eyes dropped to the bundle of paper spread open below it. The pages were jam-packed with writing about their daily occurrences, written by Holo, who was snoozing in the back, who worked hard every day to pen everything.
Since Holo would live for an eternity, no matter how hard he tried, Lawrence would end up leaving his beloved wife behind in this world. That was why Lawrence had suggested she write down as many things as she could—enough for her to forget the beginning by the time she had finished reading it to the end—for when that sad moment finally came.
Holo had eagerly taken on the project since then, and of course Lawrence should have been happy about that, but there was a hard point to settle.
Holo had evidently come to enjoy writing on its own, so she grew pleased with writing about imaginary days that never happened. It was like the hobby of a dreamy noble girl who lived in a monastery, and when she did things like that, she used up her stationery in an instant.
Not too long ago, she had run out of ink and paper. Luckily, at the time, there was a lord they had just so happened to meet who was generous enough to share some with them. Lawrence could not even begin to guess how much she was going to make him buy down the road.
While he was willing to do anything he could for her, at his core, Lawrence was a merchant. He could not help but look at a huge stack of papers and immediately think of the equivalent stack of silver coins.
But he also understood how Holo felt as she scribbled away. Memories were hazy things, and no matter how many words she used to put something on paper, it was impossible to record exactly how pleasant an afternoon nap was in its entirety.
Lawrence wanted to let her do as she pleased so she could at least gather some of those fragments together.
In the end, Holo would be left alone in the flow of time.
When he thought of that, Lawrence found another murmur slipping from his lips.
“There has to be a better way.”
He meant that both in the way of being able to collect more memories but also in an economical sense.
As he contemplated all that, he saw a notice board standing at the end of the flat road.
It was a signpost that marked its intersection with the highway, and it also meant they were close to their destination.
Commotion would erupt if people saw Holo’s ears and tail.
Lawrence turned around to face the cart bed to wake the sleeping princess.
“Hey, Ho—”
“Town?!”
Lawrence flew back in surprise when Holo energetically leaped up; the horse, feeling its reins pulled, whinnied in discontent.
Holo, however, paid no mind in the slightest and pulled the hood on her robe up, and then she leaped from the cart to the driver’s perch.
There had been no time to put away the pouch that sat next to Lawrence. Holo snatched it up, and the jerky found its way into her mouth.
“’Tis been quite a while since our last big town. We must eat as much delicious food as we can!”
Only a few days had passed since they feasted on the mountain’s bounty at a long banquet table while visiting a lord’s manor, and she had been drinking her fresh, luxurious mead all day, but…he knew no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change a thing.
And when he saw how merry she was, Lawrence lost the will to be cross with her.
Lawrence smiled with a sigh, readjusted himself on the driver’s perch, and gripped the reins.
He could not control the heartless flow of time.
That was why, at the very least, he would carefully drive the cart for the one he loved.
They headed straight west from the mountain hot spring village of Nyohhira and followed the river downstream.
At the end of their path would be the port town of Atiph, home to a cathedral and an archbishop and large enough to be considered the biggest town in the area.
It was a historic place that had once been the front line in the war with the pagans, and it also acted as a gatekeeper so that pirates from the northern islands could not attack the heart of the continent.
Holdovers from that past were still visible as the massive spires rising high above both sides of the river could be seen throughout the town. Strung between them was a huge chain that would drop into the river at times of emergency to stop pirate ships from going upstream.
After passing through inspection at the city walls, Lawrence explained all that, but Holo’s attention was stolen by the food in the stalls as she gave vague responses.
“Maybe you’d listen to me if I put that chain around your neck.”
Holo’s true form was a massive, towering wolf, so perhaps chains that big would be the perfect size. Lawrence muttered that as he thought about it, and Holo, who would not miss a comment like that, stomped on the top of his foot.
“So what sort of special dishes may we find here?”
“Sheesh…,” Lawrence responded as he rubbed his foot. “Fish, of course. This place is crammed to the brim with fresh raw fish. Especially at this time of year, now that it’s starting to get cold, all the fish are super fatty and delicious. All the salt-grilled, deep-fried, and boiled fish would be good, too.”
“Fiiish?”
Holo said it with a slight objection, almost as though she wanted to say that wolves and fish did not go together.
“You can’t just say you don’t like it. Oh yeah, there’s been word about an interesting trade here in this town regarding herring. Do you want to go see?”
“No. I shan’t look at cured herring ever again.”
For people living in the deep mountains—catches from local rivers aside—the fish people would commonly find on their tables would be, without question, cured salted herring. Herring were so abundant that it was often said that sticking a sword in the sea would be more than enough to catch a whole cluster of them, so even those living in the deepest of mountain regions could get them cheaply.
It was a precious fish that supported a great many people throughout the world, but because of that, everyone grew bored of it.
“Herring is pretty good when it’s not cured.”
“…This is how you are scheming to fill my belly with cheap fish, I see,” Holo said, looking at him with suspicion.
She grew greedy when it came to food, so Lawrence could do nothing but shrug.
That being said, herring was still cheaper than any sort of meat.
Lawrence cleared his throat.
“Let’s say you prepare plenty of oil in a pot.”
“…Hmm?”
“First you put the heat on low, and then you put in a gutted fish, head and all. Then it should start making a slight fizzing noise.”
Holo looked at him doubtfully, wondering what he was talking about, but Lawrence paid her no mind and continued speaking.
“Just as you can tell that it’s finally starting to cook through, you add more firewood into the fire. The oil will get hotter and hotter, and then it’ll start making a really pleasant sizzling sound.”
Holo was completely enraptured by Lawrence’s story, and she audibly gulped.
“When you fry it until it’s crisp and crunchy, you can eat it to the bone. You then scoop it from the oil and sprinkle some salt over it just as it starts to burst open…”
He mimed sprinkling salt with his fingers, and Holo’s gaze darted to them, like a cat being offered a treat.
“Then you bite into the head.”
Holo’s tail sprang up, almost enough to lift the hem of her clothes.
“There’s no greater enjoyment than tasting the sweet oil dripping down your lips along with the rock salt and then washing it down with some cool ale…Ow, ow!”
“We must go right now. Herring, yes? They are in peak season now, are they not?!”
Holo had a tight grip on his muscles through his clothes, and he somehow managed to peel her off.
It seemed like his strategy of filling her up with cheap herring was working, but it was working a little too well.
“Before we do that, we need to head to the Debau Company to confirm our destination and reserve a boat. The seasons are changing now, so the hold will be stuffed full of merchant and material transport. We’ll have to wait until winter if we don’t hurry.”
Unlike his time as a traveling merchant, Lawrence and Holo now had a place to return to. Their hot spring in Nyohhira was currently in the hands of someone else, so they could not take too leisurely of a trip.
And so, even though he had not said that out of spite, Lawrence found himself cut off in the middle of speaking.
Holo’s eyes were swimming as she bit her lower lip.
“…Fine, fine. I’ll go on ahead to the company, so you take this and buy as much as you want.”
What he handed her after he spoke was a silver of not terribly great quality that he had scooped out from his wallet after a moment of hesitation. When they had just met, he had given her a silver trenni, which was as close to pure silver as coins could get, and she ended up purchasing all the apples she could.
The word frugality seemed to fly out the window in the face of good food.
But just as Holo took the silver with sparkling eyes, she gave Lawrence a beaming smile; even though he knew that was her weapon, it shot him right in the heart.
This was all he could say to vent his chagrin:
“My share is included in that silver, okay?”
“I know, fool.”
She was already searching for the food stalls when she responded. She wore a thick skirt to hide her tail, but it was wagging so much that it was almost moving her skirt.
“Oh boy…”
Holo looked like she would dash off the moment she spotted her prey, so he was about to add where they should meet when—
“Hmm?”
Holo, who had been licking her lips, suddenly stuck out her neck.
“What is it?”
“Mm.”
Her ears moved tightly under her hood, and without turning her head, she brought her hand over to pull on Lawrence’s sleeve.
“Behind you, on the other side of the street.”
Holo was the embodiment of a wolf, and wolves were the kings of the forest. Even among the busiest of crowds, or even when her heart was stolen away by fried fish, she was always on her guard.
“…Do you think this means
trouble?”
The cart was filled with cargo, and the street was crowded.
Even if they did not lose everything to a pickpocket or a holdup, they would not escape unscathed.
Those traveling with women were especially easy targets.
“They do not carry weapons, but…they are the same sort we often see in our baths.”
“Priests? Wait, don’t tell me you—”
When he said that, Holo’s expression became a clearly guilty one.
“Perhaps I drank too much mead…”
Holo was the embodiment of a wolf, which made her a nonhuman with wolf ears and a tail. The Church considered those like her to be possessed by demons, beings that should not exist in this world.
She had been getting drunk off mead all day long, and coupled with how she had been letting her guard down on her first trip in a while, someone might have seen her ears and tail along the way.
Holo bit on the nail of her thumb, gripped the silver Lawrence gave her, then spoke.
“It is what it is. They will be after me either way, so my only choice is to run. You prepare the boat and head south as planned. Should I run along the coast, we will likely meet up at some town along the way.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Please.”
The reason Holo was called the wisewolf was because she could promptly choose the correct option in a time of crisis. He could not count the number of times her quick wit had saved him.
Yet, even though Lawrence understood that Holo’s assessment was absolutely correct, he hesitated because he hated the thought of being without her.
She would only become annoyed if he said that, of course, and he knew that a reunion after being separated would not be an awful thing.
“Don’t drink away that silver.”
“You fool,” Holo said with a smile and then leaped from the driver’s perch on the cart. Just as she did so, the small group of people whispering among themselves on the other side of the street started to part the crowd and make their way toward them. Some were dressed in clerical robes, some were well-dressed merchants, and there were even some who looked like monks.
Spring Log IV Page 12
