In any case, he would have to pay more attention to her tomorrow.
This wolf’s mood changed just as often as the weather in the mountain forests from which she came.
In the winter drizzle, Lawrence would put his blanket over his goods, shivering with his arms clasped around him as he passed the night. Compared with that experience, sleeping under a roof on a bed of straw was vastly preferable.
When morning came, he awoke with his usual sneeze, reflecting on such notions to avoid cursing the situation in which he’d found himself.
Next to him was Holo, curled up in her blanket asleep, snoring soundly.
He couldn’t claim not to have felt a twinge of anger.
But when he looked at her sleeping face, Lawrence could only sigh softly and stand from the bed.
While technically a house, it was still a roughly hewn dwelling dug into the earth.
His breath was white, and when he moved his body, his cold-stiffened joints creaked.
It was lucky that the floor was hard-packed earth rather than wood. He went outside without waking Holo and looked up at the sky – the weather would be fine, it seemed – and he yawned.
People were already gathering around the well to draw water, and in the distance the cries of oxen, pigs, and sheep could be heard.
It was the very picture of an industrious little village.
Lawrence couldn’t help but anticipate the coming morning. He smiled a rueful smile to himself.
It was near noontime when Holo finally awoke, and normally such sloth would be regarded with hard stares in villages like this.
But here everyone smiled, perhaps because they were all settlers. Nearly all of them had packed up their households and moved them, livestock and all, along a long and difficult road. They knew well that travelers had their own special sense of time.
Lawrence had been right that there wouldn’t be any breakfast, though.
It was considered a luxury even in the most prosperous towns, so of course it would be absent here in this simple, hardscrabble village.
“So, what are you doing?”
Lawrence wondered if Holo had slept in because she had known that there would be no breakfast.
In Holo’s hand were thin slices of boiled rye bread, between which were sausages made from pork slaughtered to preserve it over the winter.
It was a lunch that Lawrence would have felt guilty to receive for free, but unfortunately that had not been a problem.
As she chewed away on the food, Holo’s eyes followed Lawrence’s hands, which busied themselves with the task to which they’d been set.
Lawrence had a variety of things he wanted to tell Holo as she devoured her food and washed it down with ale, but given that her ire from the previous night had subsided, there seemed to be little reason to rouse it again.
Such thinking would probably result in spoiling her, but instead of saying any number of things, Lawrence answered her question.
“Translation.”
“Trans… lafuh?” she said.
It would have been absurd to warn her not to talk with her mouth full. Lawrence plucked a bread crumb from the corner of her mouth and nodded. “Yes. They asked me to translate this troublesome Church document into the language they’re familiar with, so that scuffles like yesterday’s won’t happen.”
It was work that would cost them a goodly amount if they had to go to a town to have it done.
Of course, while he was not charging them for the service, Lawrence was unable to guarantee the accuracy of his translation.
“Huh…” Her eyes half-lidded, Holo gazed at the parchment on the desk and the wooden slate Lawrence was using for his translation, but she finally seemed to lose interest and took a drink of ale. “Well, so long as you’re working I can keep eating and drinking without any hesitation.”
After tossing off this smile-freezing line, Holo popped the last remnant of lunch into her mouth and then moved away from Lawrence’s side.
“I wish you’d hesitate a little for my sake, at least,” Lawrence murmured to Holo’s back with a long-suffering sigh. He started to return to his work when he realized something. “Hey, that’s mine–”
No sooner had Lawrence said this than Holo was already chewing on her second piece of bread.
“Come, don’t make such a nasty face. ’Twas only a bit of a joke.”
“If it’s only a joke, why is there so little bread left?”
“I ought to be allowed to beg from you a little at least.”
“Such honor you do me,” said Lawrence sarcastically, which made a displeased Holo sit upon the table at which he was working.
He wondered whether she was about to flirt with him in her usual way when she suddenly looked down at him with a malicious smile. “Perhaps I’ll go beg from the villagers next time, then, eh? ‘Sir, sir, please, might I have some bread?’”
It hardly needed to be said whom such an act would harm. But if he gave in here, he really would be spoiling her.
“Just how many servings do you plan to eat, then?” he shot back, snatching the bread away from Holo’s clutches and returning to his work.
Holo drew her chin in irritably and sighed. It occurred to Lawrence that he was the one who should be sighing, but then–
“I suppose when the villagers ask me that question, I’ll put a hand to my belly and answer thus…”
Lawrence knew if he went along with this, he would lose. He picked up his quill as though refusing to listen.
“‘Well… I’m eating for two now, so…’ I’ll say,” said Holo, leaning over and murmuring in Lawrence’s ear.
Lawrence spit the bread right out of his mouth, which was in no way a deliberate overreaction.
Holo smirked viciously. “What, is this the first time you’ve realized I eat enough for two?” she asked deliberately.
In negotiations, the winner was whoever used all the weapons at their disposal. Still, Holo used her weapons too well.
Just as Lawrence had decided not to listen further to a single word she said and was brushing the table free of crumbs, Holo’s hand shot out and plucked the link of sausage contained within the piece of bread.
“Heh. Come now, you’ve been working there since morning – you’ll get wrinkles on your forehead if you keep it up. Go outside and take in some of the cold air, eh?”
If Lawrence had been inclined to take her at her word, the way he had been when they’d first started their journey together, he would’ve told her to mind her own business – and thereby invited her ire.
Lawrence was silent for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He then raised a hand to about shoulder height to indicate his surrender and spoke. “I can’t let seed grain fall on a field that’s already been harvested.”
“Mm. I can’t promise I won’t take a liking to the wheat here.”
It was a joke only Holo-who-lived-in-wheat could tell.
She put her robe’s hood over her head, hid her swishing tail, and made for the door, putting out her hand to open it.
“It’s true that your taking a liking to the wheat here would be troublesome. I couldn’t stand to watch you eating food off the ground,” said Lawrence.
At this, Holo puffed out her cheeks in irritation and bit another piece off the bread that Lawrence held.
Taking a leisurely look around the village was not such a bad way to pass the time, and Holo hadn’t visited a normal village like this one since leaving Pasloe.
And while she might not have left Pasloe with much fondness, the atmosphere of the small farming village was still a comfortingly familiar one. She gazed at the hay, bundled and set aside as compost, and the tools leaning here and there, still dirty from use, all common sights back in Pasloe.
“They don’t have much trade with towns, so evidently they sow beans even during this season.”
Normally farming work was finished by this time of year, replaced by spinning and weaving or wood carving – indo
or jobs all – but this village was apparently different.
The nearest town was three days away by horse cart, and worse, that town refused to do business with the village out of fear of accident.
Securing a food supply was the villagers’ first priority; everything else came after that.
“Beans are good for when the soil’s been exhausted. Of course, the earth here is good enough that they should be able to get good harvests for a while without worrying over such details.”
It didn’t take long for them to reach the edge of the village, and from there the fields continued for as far as they could see – an impressive feat given the village’s population.
Given that the fields lacked fences or trenches, the land was probably communally worked.
The forms of a few villagers could be seen in the direction of the spring, perhaps digging irrigation ditches.
The usefulness of a lie was suddenly clear, since just as Holo had said, the lines had disappeared from Lawrence’s forehead thanks to their excursion.
“So, how much do you suppose you’ll be able to wring from this village?”
The fence that enclosed the village was sturdier than its rickety appearance suggested. Holo sat on it, so Lawrence did likewise, waving to the villagers in the field who’d finally noticed them before he looked at Holo. “That’s not a very nice way to put it.”
“You were putting things much more nastily yesterday.”
For a moment Lawrence wondered if Holo’s ill temper the night before had been because he’d seemed too greedy. But no, given how amused she seemed now, that was surely not so.
“Profit is generated whenever goods are exchanged. If it’s going to come bubbling up without my having to do any work, I have only to drink my fill.”
“Hmm… As though ’twere wine, eh?”
She was talking about the wine made from drippings collected from skin or cloth bags of grapes hung from eaves. The grapes crushed themselves under their own weight, and the flavor was incomparable.
As usual, the wolf’s knowledge of food and drink was quite thorough.
“This time I ought to be able to turn a profit without relying on you. For an opportunity met through happenstance by the way-side, it’s quite large. Even if you do stuff yourself with chicken.”
A gentle breeze blew, and the mooing calls of cattle could be heard in the distance. He barely had enough time to notice how quiet it was before the piercing clucking of chickens sounded behind them.
“I have depended on your abilities quite a bit, after all. It’s nice this way, even just as a change of pace, isn’t it?”
He was counting his chickens before they hatched a bit, but surely he’d be forgiven this much. Plus, if he weighed what Holo’s drink and food cost against how much her help had earned him, the latter was by far the greater. In all honesty, sometimes he wanted her to eat and drink without any care.
“So you–”
“Hmm?”
“You truly imagine I could eat and drink without worry?”
Lawrence realized something, and in that moment it felt as though time stopped. “Is that why you were angry last night…?”
She might beg him for this or that, but it wasn’t as though that was all Holo did. She always repaid her debts and was a constant help to him at every turn during their travels.
Wasn’t it because she hated being singled out as special that Holo so detested being called a god? If so, Lawrence’s concern might have had the opposite of its intended effect.
“It’s not something you need agonize over… that’s what I think anyway. You’re honorable to a fault, after all.”
At these words Holo shot him a resentful glance, as though angry at having been made to explain something she didn’t want to. “Hmph. I’m only an ignorant wolf, after all. I can’t even read those words.”
Already anxious about not contributing, Holo would have awoken to see Lawrence toiling away at the desk. From her perspective it would’ve seemed like he was deliberately spiting her.
“Ah, if that’s the problem, then I have an idea.”
“…?” Holo’s expression softened, and she looked at him.
Lawrence smiled. “Why don’t you just give them some wheat growing advice?”
The joke was sharp enough that Holo seemed to have difficulty knowing whether to be angry or not. A complicated expression passed over her face before she puffed her cheeks out and turned away.
“I’m sure they’d be happy to get even a bit of wisdom. They’ve gotten into farming without even knowing what a sheepfold is. Isn’t there something you could tell them?” Lawrence then added, “The happier they are, the easier my work will be.”
Holo looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears – “such cunning tricks you use,” they seemed to say. “Hn…”
“Come, you needn’t agonize so. Surely there’s some small thing you could teach them,” Lawrence said with a smile, which made Holo close her eyes in thought.
Her brow wrinkled, and her ears flicked back and forth beneath her hood.
She really was too honorable for her own good.
Still smiling, Lawrence turned his gaze away from Holo, directing it lazily upward at a bird flying overhead. Just then–
“Mr. Lawrence!”
Hearing the sound of his name being called, Lawrence looked back at the village.
“Mr. Lawrence!”
The voice coming from behind him was the village elder’s.
“Ah, sorry, my translation isn’t yet…”
“No, no – I know we’ve already burdened you with work, and it pains me to admit it, but there’s another matter I’d like to ask you about…”
“Another matter?” Lawrence made an effort to hide his excitement, given the village’s current difficulty in obtaining goods. He stole a glance at Holo, whose face was sulky and uninterested. “Well, if there’s anything I can do, I’ll be happy to.”
It would have been a lie for him not to smile here.
The village elder seemed enormously relieved at Lawrence’s open smile. “Oh, thank goodness. I’m so grateful. Truth be told, the village has recently had more and more problems like the one you saw yesterday. I was hoping we could borrow your wisdom…”
“… My wisdom?” asked Lawrence, still smiling.
At this the elder explained the problem, a look of utter desperation on his face.
Lawrence hung his head, agonizing over the amount of parchment on the desk before him that had yet to be translated.
The problem that the elder had brought to him was, in fairness, something common to all villages. But older communities had long-established ways to resolve such problems – be it divine decree, the authority of the village elder, a certificate from a nearby lord, or a village assembly whose decisions were absolute.
But this village had none of those.
When a newly established community collapsed, the cause was often a lack of a strong force bringing people together. Those were the difficult circumstances this village found itself in, and it was amid such circumstances that they presented Lawrence with their problem. Unsurprisingly, it concerned land divisions.
Evidently the lord had only vaguely defined the village territory and then left it up to individuals to decide how to divide it up into the amounts they had each been allotted.
And that was the problem.
They had been allotted a certain size, but nothing about the physical arrangement of those parcels had been written down.
“So everyone just chose bits of land here and there, and we didn’t realize we needed a common point of reference until disputes started happening.”
“Right. When the village was just starting out, there was enough land that there wouldn’t be problems right away. But without a starting reference, you end up with small slivers of land where nobody knows who they belong to – if I drew a map it’d be plain as day.”
“I should think tearing a piece of flatbread into pieces
would make a better example than any map,” said an amused Holo as she sat on the desk.
“Oat bread, you mean? I doubt they’d find such tough stuff tasty.”
“I suppose I wouldn’t claim it’s delicious if you asked me, but that texture is addictive. My fangs do itch for it from time to time…” said Holo with a grin, flashing her sharp fangs.
Lawrence couldn’t help but flinch a bit.
“What? I should think your fangs are keener than mine by far.”
“Huh?” replied Lawrence innocently.
Holo poked him in the chest with her finger. “Their poison’s already working on me.”
After a chicken walking around outside clucked three times, Lawrence looked back down at his work, whereupon Holo gave his leg an irritable kick.
“Are you saying your work’s more important than I am?”
“Of course.”
“Wha–” Holo let slip in spite of herself, and when Lawrence saw her wide eyes and pricked-up ears, he realized he’d misspoken.
“No, what I mean is that if I can’t help the villagers, they won’t be indebted to me. Our profit depends on that, but I can talk with you later…”
“You’d best hope my good graces aren’t so limited!” spat Holo, then turned away.
Lawrence was quite confident in his ability to charm those he’d deal with for only a short time, but such superficial treatment wouldn’t work on Holo.
And yet the village elder had given Lawrence the authority to solve the village’s most important problem. If he couldn’t rise to the challenge, the despairing village would surely never trust him with all their trade.
Money couldn’t buy love, it was true, but obligation could purchase money.
“…” Lawrence couldn’t find the words to reply to Holo, even as he couldn’t very well afford to dismiss the problem before him. Sitting at the desk, he was very literally at a loss for words.
He had never encountered a problem like this during his time alone as a traveling merchant. He doubted his old master would have been able to tell him how to solve it, either.
After weighing everything, the key would be to understand which was the weightiest. Having determined that much, Lawrence was about to speak when–
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