Spice & Wolf XII (DWT)

by Isuna Hasekura

  This wasn’t just a simple investment for the nobles. It was a risky one, as they had to wait for the person in question to die and because it took a lot of money. It could be very dangerous since it all hinged on mere possibilities. Katerina’s life must have been dragged into all of those considerations.

  “Are you asking me to sell a saint?”

  “Such things come naturally to you.”

  Fran revealed the same expression she had used when she told him it would cost fifty gold coins to have her draw them a map. But this time he couldn’t bring himself to accept.

  “I can’t do it. In Gerube, it was a bargain between Keeman and other nobles over the Narwhale. And in Winfield, I was only indirectly involved in the trade. In both cases it all happened well beyond my control.”

  Money wasn’t just something that had a quantity; its quality could change just as easily. Especially when it came to comparing simple coins with people’s hearts and lives. Holy relics were no different. And yet, Fran glared at him. She was unwilling to back down. And then, she played her trump card.

  “I’ll repay you by drawing you a map of the north. Do it.”

  He was beyond shocked.

  “What?”

  It was clear she wasn’t joking. He couldn’t believe it. She was telling him to exchange a saint’s exalted life’s work for a simple map. Yet she wasn’t averting her gaze. He did his best to exert some pressure back on her.

  “Are you telling me that’s a fair trade?”

  He wasn’t going to lay his hand out on the table in front of her just yet, but Fran simply revealed a beautiful smile and slowly opened her eyes as if to say “and why not?” But those eyes weren’t the same ones that gazed at him is disbelief when he told her that soldiers had come to the village. No, it wasn’t disbelief that was in those dark eyes surrounded by tanned skin right now. She spoke with a lowered voice, like a fortuneteller meeting his prophecies head-on.

  “So you’re saying you don’t want to place yourself in danger for the map?”

  Lawrence stole a glance at Holo, who was staring at Fran. Cole seemed entirely puzzled. Of course Lawrence didn’t care about the danger. But how could he blatantly lie about Katerina being a saint already, especially when she was cursed as a witch? How could he just make up a story just to sell her over to the landlord? Could he dare take Holo’s hand after doing something like that?

  “Defrauding a lord and selling a saint? I can’t do it.”

  “Really?”

  Fran walked away, passing by Lawrence and snatching the map he held in his hands.

  “Where do you think you’re going?!”

  It was pointless to ask, and he knew it. She paused for a moment before looking back at him.

  “And you even convinced Hugh to help you somehow.. I thought you were serious about this.”

  He recalled how polite Hugh had been to Fran back at his company. No matter what she said or did, he wanted her to draw the homes of his friends. Lawrence really had convinced Hugh to help him. But Fran wasn’t done.

  “I thought you lived up to your reputation, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “What-”

  Before he could even finish with “do you mean,” Fran had already cut him off.

  “You really didn’t want a map of the north that badly, did you?”

  “!”

  It was like being stabbed in the heart. She walked away, leaving him unable to move or even think. It was like a bucket of cold water had frozen him in place. She had cut him directly, by questioning his resolve to get a map of the north. It was too direct, since she knew he wanted it to keep traveling with Holo.

  He’d made a vow to ignore danger for Holo as they chased after the bones of the wolf. He’d found a map-maker, but couldn’t bring himself to compromise. It was obvious, stupidly so, that he wanted to be with her. But it was even more obvious that without that kind of resolve, he couldn’t build a very nice home. He knew that, but being slapped in the face with it was too much.

  “She attacked your weakest point.”

  Holo looked up at him happily.

  “But are you truly going to sell that dried-out person?”

  His first response was “impossible.” Given Holo’s earlier words, and the look in her eyes, he knew what she meant. If it was for the sake of these people, Holo might make a move.

  But Katerina had been used, both in life and in death, by the village and the landlord. Lawrence didn’t want to add his name to the list of people who used her for their own interests. He wasn’t in any position to refuse Fran, but he could hardly accept her proposal. The soldiers could just as easily run them through to conceal the truth.

  “Let’s run.”

  Holo nodded as he spoke.

  “And leave Ms. Fran behind?”

  Cole had raised his voice. They looked at each other, knowing how important Fran was.

  “When we’re safe, we can request for Holo’s help, or have Hugh exert his influence to keep her safe. She is still highly sought-after by others.”

  She certainly wouldn’t be brought to harm. But that wasn’t why Cole seemed about to cry.

  “That’s not it.. I mean are you two giving up on her search for the angel?”

  Lawrence had no idea how to reply. They weren’t really related to this. They were here because of Fran’s search. And yet, it was obvious that Fran had confided in Cole and told him her real objectives.

  She had already planned to sell Katerina.. that’s how determined she was. But as Lawrence was about to explain to Cole just how foolish it was to pursue that end, he swallowed his words. Cole, on the verge of tears, handed him a book.

  “I insisted on traveling with you, and I like you guys, but I can’t abandon Ms. Fran like that.”

  The moment the book left his hands, he grabbed his bag and fled after Fran. His kindness was too great, so it made sense that he would have been touched if Fran confided in him. But the moment Lawrence saw which book Cole had handed him, he realized that wasn’t it at all. It was a bible. And Lawrence wasn’t wincing because it was just any bible, but one covered in dried blood.

  “What is that?”

  He snapped out of it when he heard Holo ask her question.

  “A bible.”

  He opened it. Several pages were torn. Others had been stuck together with blood. Some were blackened by smoke. This was a book that had seen many a battle. Lawrence finally found what he was looking for on several pieces of paper folded between its pages.

  “Dear.. Kirja.. vai.. umm.. Kirjavainen Mercenaries?”

  The name of a band of mercenaries was written on this page, which had been folded into a bloody bible. Lawrence wiped the ashes from the page and squinted to read the rest. There was a signature next to the band’s name.

  “Fran Bonilly..”

  It came from the bag Fran had given Cole, so this letter was probably addressed to her. But Lawrence found himself reading the title beside her name twice.

  “Military chaplain, Fran Bonilly.”

  He felt like he’d been struck in the head with an iron rod. He was so beside himself that he didn’t even hear Holo calling out to him. He turned the page. Some of the words were blurry from water damage, others from blood or dirt. But it was still clear that this letter was sent to her by the Kirjavainen Mercenaries. She wasn’t with them now, but atop the second page was a special section “written requesting prayers for the fallen.” Whoever wrote the letter did so with a very graceful hand.

  “Captain Martin Groykas was killed in action at the Battle of Lydian.”

  “We were betrayed on the Lavaan Plains, and pursued by the soldiers of Marquis Rizzo. That night, sutler Reenu died. He left no will.”

  “Lieutenant Ron Hieman was arrested, and taken to the Marquis’s dungeon. He remained brave and loyal to the end, and remembered you to the last.”

  Lawrence flipped to the final page.

  “Mirigua of the Nackoli diocese was hung in the month of S
aint Ralphen. He left these words for you: ‘I saw the angel not too long ago.”’

  Everything after that was smeared beyond legibility. It seemed there was more on the back, but it too was illegible. Lawrence stood silently for a long time.

  “Huh..”

  Fran was clearly trusted by nobles, even at her young age. She must be accustomed to dealing with those in power. She had daring, yet wasn’t crass. Hugh said she’d been born on the battlefield and counted herself a slave, and that all finally made sense. She was defended by mercenaries, and used her faith to help them overcome the horrors of battle. She’d been a guide to many lost friends.

  Taking everything into consideration, her motivation for chasing after the angel’s legend must have changed with that letter. The wrinkles on the last page were likely caused by her own hands, when she read that the “person she knew” had been hung. In the angel’s legend, the doors to heaven were opened and it had ascended into them. What else could she be after, really?

  There were countless tales about the sad final moments of mercenaries. Fran was still alive because she was apart from them during those hellish moments. The letter proved that, and as Hugh’s timely words said, those with strength were the first to die. Chaplains could only pray, not block blades, so they weren’t thrown into battle. And so, Fran had survived.

  “Hey you.”

  When he finally realized that Holo was talking to him, she stopped talking.

  “Sorry.”

  She looked at him as if she knew what he wanted to say. The wind that blew along the river and spread over the dried riverbank blasted into his face as it blew the fine snow on the forest floor.

  “Will you help?”

  He cut to the chase, but she didn’t reply. She reached her hand out as if she needed to see the bible and letter first.

  “What do you plan on doing?”

  Those were her first words after receiving the bible and reading it to her heart’s desire. The finer details were hazy, but it could still be understood. Cole’s rare outburst and the way he chased after Fran made things all too clear.

  “All I can offer is my worthless sympathy.”

  “Then why are you asking for my help?”

  Lawrence smiled at that, but not because he didn’t want to answer. He was just embarrassed to say why. She grabbed his ear in surprise, but he kept on smiling. It was just too amusing a thought.

  “Because even when the world is at its cruelest, it also offers hope.”

  Holo didn’t let him go, and he kept staring right into her eyes.

  “The world may not revolve around us, but it does have this knack for showing us a miracle when we most need one.”

  Fran’s mercenary friends didn’t get that luxury, but Fran was praying in her heart for a miracle beyond miracles. The odds were that a watermill would be built here, and she would end up dead. Even if luck was on her side, all she would have to show for her efforts were more dead bodies all around her, and an escape into a hopeless-seeming world.

  Even a child being threatened with a beating would know better, but Katerina was willing to remain true to her beliefs and die in a hut even if she was called a witch. She’d searched for the truth behind a legend, and neither sympathy nor false miracles mattered to her. She’d lived with the hope that the world was simply not that cruel, despite the harsh reality being otherwise.

  “You fool.”

  “I truly am.”

  “You foolish mule.”

  Holo’s face was scrunched up in confusion, but after sighing she raised her hand as though unwilling to waste any more time. And yet, her finger was curled around one of his.

  “You of all people should know how cruel the world really is.”

  In the end, the Wisewolf had correctly inferred the foolish thoughts of her companion.

  “Of course. But..”

  “What?”

  If he couldn’t give her a satisfying answer, she might desert him on the spot; at least that’s how he used to think. Now, he simply held her hand and hugged her.

  “..Wouldn’t you rather help this free-spirited girl?”

  She bared her pearly teeth.

  “Failure will not be tolerated.”

  “Of course.”

  Lawrence replied, lightly pressed his forehead against hers..

  “Of course.”

  ..And repeated his assurance a second time.

  * * *

  “So, what do you actually plan on doing?”

  She questioned him again before they had even returned to the hut.

  “Nothing complicated. I’m just going to mention Katerina’s nomination.”

  “..Are you selling her?”

  “Sell a saint? Hardly. We’re just observers, after all.”

  He meant that they were bystanders watching events unfold. If they happened to observe anything unnatural taking place, or if any problems arose in the village, the landlord could be held liable.

  “Even the stupidest coward of a lord will learn a bit about a situation before he acts. Katerina may be nominated into sainthood, but he should know that we are not representatives of the Church. So how could that possibly-”

  She caught herself at the end, finally realizing what he wanted her to do. He fully expected her to pout and act unwilling.

  “That’s why I need your help.”

  “I shall have to think it over.”

  Sure enough, she pouted and grew silent. And so, he continued.

  “In the angel’s legend, you’ll remember they heard beasts howling. So if you help, and we time it right, then no one will suspect Katerina anymore.”

  “Mhm.”

  “Katerina’s nomination isn’t final; she’s not a saint yet. Nothing in that hut is worth anything yet, so there’s nothing for a merchant to sell.”

  Holo spoke, perhaps out of boredom.

  “Sly.”

  “Couldn’t you just say ’cunning?”’

  She sighed in lieu of saying, “they are one and the same.”

  “So we’ll have to placate the landlord by telling him this place is worth more to them as a future religious site, which they’ll lose if they destroy it now.”

  This would be a strong argument to a landlord flitting like a bat between the Church and pagans. He’d keep his mouth shut tighter than a loyal hound. Of course, it wouldn’t work for very long, but it would buy them enough time for Fran to do her work.

  “Well, at least this is better than running.”

  With that, Holo entered the hut and cast some wood into the fire.

  * * *

  Katerina Rucci was going to be a saint. Her diary was a plain record of her daily life, and through it one could understand her. In it was written that even the archbishop (who Lawrence knew of) had sent her a letter. As had wealthy noblewomen, and the masters of great guilds. Her daily life was filled with replying to such correspondence, as well as scribe duties for the church such as copying bibles and other holy texts.

  Her diary quite consistently showed off her pious side, but ever so often it reflected her inner thoughts. A bishop had refused to return her translated bible, and had copies of it sold against her will. Women in the Church weren’t permitted to speak out, but they could write their complaints in their diaries just as easily, it seemed. And the contents of her diary were quite damning.

  An archbishop claimed he could recite the bible from memory, but that he needed to eat with nobles to do so. Thus, his gluttony got him into a mess, and he’d asked Katerina for advice on how to get himself out of it. Likewise, wealthy ladies wrote about their quarrels with their husbands, and guild masters had even more direct questions, such as how much they needed to donate if they wished to enter heaven.

  Katerina made each of her detailed replies seriously, even having drafts of some of them. And yet, in between those pages of stupid questions there were short sentences asking whether they were tests from God. It was clearly a burden on her.

  She seemed t
o want to reject sainthood, but it was clear that her supporters were increasing and her nomination process would likely be quick. Lawrence forced himself to mentally note the names of some of the nobles, but he was feeling worse and worse about doing this.

  Katerina had even written about the day a villager had come to explain the situation to her.. that they were going to brand her a witch. She was sympathetic enough to accept that, but just as Fran had mentioned her journal then began to muse about how weak humans really were.

  Not long after that, her diary became a normal one, noting the changing of seasons, her dogs, their puppies, asking God for forgiveness for hunting birds, etc. But still nobles sent her letters, even if she didn’t seem to be replying anymore. She wasn’t even mentioning the villagers anymore.

  Perhaps she had finally given up, realizing the world wasn’t going to change no matter how faithful she was. As he slowly closed her diary, Lawrence noted that she seemed happier near the end.

  It was growing dark, and dusk was upon them. They cast more wood onto the fire and entered Katerina’s room. Holo wanted to check the bookshelf for any other useful information, but she wound up staring off at the view outside the window, as if joining Katerina.

  “I can see the falls from here.”

  She was murmuring.

  “They are lovely..”

  Lawrence stood at her side and joined her. Indeed, the falls were visible. The grass leading up to them seemed trimmed, since nothing was poking up through the layer of snow. Actually, it might just be a garden.

  “Perhaps she simply felt like taking a nap.”

  Holo poked Katerina’s head. The diary did give off that kind of impression. As Lawrence wondered whether dying this way would be as nice as it seemed, Holo placed her hand on the windowsill.

  “This wind is freezing.”

  Going against character, Holo closed the window. Perhaps she just couldn’t take it anymore. Anyone would eventually become sad in the presence of death, even a happy one. And yet, Katerina was still being called a witch and a saint. People just kept on using her for their own purposes. That made having a discussion in that room feel wrong, so after closing her window they returned to the living room.