Lawrence took her hand gently. “Will you really give this up?” he asked slowly.
Anyone with a mind as keen as Holo’s would have already quickly separated what was reasonable from what was not.
But just as the spirits could not be understood through reason alone, emotions were not easily controlled.
It was several moments before Holo replied.
“Asking me in such a way…is hardly fair,” she said quietly, gripping Lawrence’s shirt. “If I can learn anything about Yoitsu, my friends, or that awful bear spirit, then I want to know it. What we learned from the bird woman in Kumersun was far from enough. It was like feeling thirst yet having but a few drops of water to quench it,” murmured Holo weakly.
Being very careful now that he had understood the true nature of this conversation, Lawrence replied, “What do you want to do?”
Holo nodded once. “Might I…ask this of you?”
Her words gave off the sense that if he was to embrace her, her body would be soft and yielding.
Lawrence took a deep breath and replied, “Leave it to me.”
Holo was still looking down. Her tail wagged a single time.
Though he was not sure how much of her current state was genuine, it was still enough to make him think the risk was worth the potential gain. He couldn’t help wondering if he was drunk.
Suddenly Holo looked up to reveal a dauntless smile. “Actually, I’ve got an idea.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“Well, about that…”
Holo laid out her plan; it was simple and clear. Lawrence sighed softly. “Are you serious?”
“We won’t get anywhere being circumspect. And did I not just now ask if I could ask this of you? Did I not just ask if you would take a risk for me?”
“Still—”
Holo grinned, baring her fangs slightly. “‘Leave it to me,’ you said. It made me very happy.”
Written contracts were composed with detailed descriptions so there was no room for interpretation.
But verbal contracts were dangerous because not only could there be arguments over what had or had not been said, but also it was hard to tell whether or not one had left room for interpretation.
Not to mention that Lawrence’s opponent here was a centuries-old, self-proclaimed wisewolf.
He had utterly let his guard down, all along believing that he held the initiative.
“I have to grab your reins every once in a while, after all,” said Holo, amused.
He had only answered so gallantly because it seemed like she was depending on him.
Lawrence felt pathetic for having even dreamed such a situation existed.
“Of course, if it doesn’t go well, I’ll leave things to you. So—,” she said, smoothly taking his hand. “Right now I wish only to grab your hand.”
Lawrence slumped.
He couldn’t have brushed her hand away even if he’d wanted to.
“Right, then! Let us eat and go forth!”
Lawrence’s reply was brief but entirely unambiguous.
CHAPTER THREE
In truth, if Father Franz had also been Louis Lana Schtinghilt, the abbot that Lawrence and Holo were seeking, then there was a good possibility that volumes and papers containing stories of the pagan gods were still in the church.
Naturally, if the situation was as Lawrence surmised, it was likely that Elsa would not take even the slightest risk and would disclose nothing about the abbey.
But the more important something was, the more likely it had been recorded, and the harder someone worked on something, the more difficult it would be to simply burn that work to ash.
In all likelihood, the documentation of the pagan gods remained within the church.
The problem was getting to this work.
“Pardon, is anyone there?” Just like they had the previous day, Lawrence and Holo called at the church’s front door.
However, unlike the previous day, they had not come unprepared.
“…What business have you?”
It had been but a day, so Lawrence did not know whether Elsa would be willing to open the door, but that at least seemed not to be a problem.
Yesterday she had been palpably irritated. Today her face was dark and cloudy with displeasure.
Seeing how much Elsa seemed to hate them, Lawrence found himself paradoxically fond of her.
Lawrence gave an easy smile. “My apologies for yesterday. I heard from Mr. Evan that you’ve been facing a difficult situation.”
She seemed to perk up a bit at the mention of Evan’s name, glancing through the only slightly open door at Lawrence, then Holo, then the travel-ready wagon behind them before looking back at Lawrence.
He noticed that the displeasure on her face had lessened.
“…I gather you’ve come to ask about the abbey again?”
“No, no. As far as that goes, I’ve already inquired with the elder, who also said he knew nothing of it. It is possible that the information I got in Kumersun was mistaken. The source was a bit eccentric, truth be told.”
“I see.”
Though Elsa may have thought she had succeeded in her deception, a merchant’s eyes were keener than that.
“Thus, though it be a bit earlier than we expected, we’ll be moving on to the next town. As such, we’ve come to pray for safe travels.”
“…If that is the case…” Though she seemed suspicious yet, Elsa slowly opened the door. “Come in,” she said, inviting them to enter.
The door closed with a thud once Holo followed Lawrence into the church. They were both dressed in traveling clothes with Lawrence even carrying a knapsack over his shoulder.
Having entered the church from the front, they found themselves in a hallway that extended from the left to the right. Across the hallway was another door. Church construction was the same no matter where one traveled, which meant that the door directly ahead of them was the sanctuary. To the left would be the priestly offices or study with the residence to the right.
Elsa pulled up her cassock and walked around the two, opening the door to the sanctuary. “This way, please.”
Upon entering, Holo and Lawrence found the sanctuary to have considerable grandeur.
At the front stood an altar and an image of the Holy Mother with light shining down from windows installed at the level of the second floor.
The high ceiling and lack of any chairs added to the feeling of spaciousness.
The stones of the floor were tightly joined. Even the greediest merchant would have had trouble prying them free to sell off.
The floor leading from the sanctuary door to the altar was slightly discolored from the feet that had treaded that path so often.
Lawrence followed Elsa as they made their way in and saw that the floor directly in front of the altar had been slightly worn down.
“Father Franz—,” Lawrence started.
“Hm?”
“He must have been a man of great faith.”
Elsa was momentarily surprised, but then she noticed where Lawrence was looking.
“Ah…yes, you’re right. I’d…I’d never noticed until you pointed it out.”
This was the first smile from Elsa that Lawrence had ever seen, and though it was small, it had a tenderness to it that seemed to suit a girl of the Church.
It struck Lawrence all the more, given how severe she had been at their first meeting.
The fact that he would soon cause that smile to disappear filled him with regret, as though he was extinguishing a flame that had been difficult to light.
“Then let us pray. Are you prepared?”
“Ah, before we start,” said Lawrence, putting down his knapsack, removing his coat, and taking a step toward Elsa. “I must give my confession.”
The unexpected request gave Elsa pause, but after a moment, she answered, “Er, well, in that case, there’s another room—”
“No, I will give it here, before God.”
Law
rence was adamant as he approached Elsa, and she did not quail, merely nodding. “Very well,” she said with a quiet incline of her head, every inch the devout priest.
It seemed that Elsa’s desire to inherit Father Franz’s position was not solely for the village’s benefit.
She saw Holo quietly retreat to the rear of the sanctuary, and then putting her hands together and bowing her head, she recited a prayer.
When she lifted her face again, she was a loyal servant of God.
“Confess your sins, for God is always forgiving to those who are honest.”
Lawrence took a deep breath. He was just as likely to mock God as he was to pray, but here in the middle of the sanctuary, he couldn’t help but feel a certain trepidation.
He exhaled slowly, then knelt down on the floor. “I have told a lie.”
“What kind of lie?”
“I have been deceptive for my own gain.”
“You have confessed your sin before God. Now have you the courage to tell the truth?”
Lawrence raised his head. “I have.”
“Though God knows all, he still wishes to hear you speak your transgressions. Do not be afraid. God is always merciful to those whose faith is good.”
Lawrence closed his eyes. “I lied today.”
“In what way?”
“I tricked someone using a false pretense.”
Elsa paused for a moment, then spoke. “For what reason?”
“There was something I had to know, and in order to learn it, I lied to get close to the source of that knowledge.”
“…To whom did you lie…?”
Lawrence looked up and answered, “To you, Miss Elsa.”
She was obviously stunned.
“I have now confessed my lie before God, and I have told the truth.” Lawrence stood. He was a full head taller than Elsa. “I am seeking Diendran Abbey, and I have come to ask you its location.”
Elsa bit her lip. Though her eyes were filled with hatred, she lacked the resolve of their first encounter, the strength to turn away any request.
There was a reason Lawrence had delivered his confession here.
He had to trap Elsa, whose faith was plainly deep, here—here before God.
“No,” Lawrence corrected himself. “I have lied again. I have not come here to ask the location.”
Confusion spread over Elsa’s face like oil over water.
“I have come to ask whether this is Diendran Abbey.”
“…!”
Elsa backed away, but the depression caused by Father Franz’s years of devotion caused her to stumble.
She stood before God.
Here, of all places, she could not lie.
“Miss Elsa, this is Diendran Abbey, and Father Franz was also Louis Lana Schtinghilt. Do I not speak the truth?”
On the verge of tears, Elsa looked away, as though she childishly believed that as long as she did not shake her head, her response was not a lie.
But her reaction was as good as a confirmation.
“Miss Elsa, we simply wish to know the contents of the pagan tales that Father Franz collected. It is not for business and certainly has nothing to do with Enberch.”
Elsa gave a short gasp, then snapped her mouth shut so as not to let anything escape.
“Am I wrong in thinking that the reason you wish to keep the fact that this is Diendran Abbey a secret is because Father Franz’s collected records are here?”
A drop of sweat trickled down slowly from Elsa’s temple.
It was as good as an admission.
Lawrence casually closed his fist, signaling Holo.
“What you’re worried about, Miss Elsa, is Enberch learning of Father Franz’s activities, correct? All we want is to see his writings. We want to see them badly enough that we’re willing to employ these upsetting methods.”
Elsa opened her mouth almost involuntarily. “Wh-who…who are you?”
Lawrence did not answer immediately, simply looking at Elsa.
Elsa, who planned to bear the burdens of the church upon her slender frame, looked back at him uncertainly.
And then—
“Who are we? That is a question to which it is difficult to give a satisfying answer,” interjected Holo.
Elsa suddenly looked over at Holo, as if only just realizing that she was present.
“There is a reason, though, why we—no, why I am forcing this issue.”
“…What…what reason?” managed Elsa, her voice choked as she seemed on the verge of breaking into tears.
Holo nodded. “This reason.”
Proving that they were not lackeys sent from Enberch was as difficult as trying to prove they were not demons.
But just as an angel might show its wings to prove that it was, at least, not a demon, there was a way for Holo and Lawrence to prove that whoever they were, they were not from Enberch.
Holo pulled her hood off, revealing her ears and tail.
“They are quite real. Would you care to touch them?”
Elsa’s head drooped forward. For a moment, Lawrence thought she was nodding, her hands clutched to her heart.
“Ugh—”
But then with a strange groan, Elsa fainted dead away.
After placing Elsa on the simple bed, Lawrence sighed.
He had thought that being moderately threatening would be effective, but evidently they’d gone too far.
Elsa had fainted but would probably awaken soon.
Lawrence found his eyes wandering around the room.
Though the Church certainly extolled the virtues of frugality, this room was so bare and empty that Lawrence found himself wondering if Elsa truly lived in it.
Turning right upon entering the church led to a living room with a fireplace. At the far corner of the room was a hall that ran parallel to the sanctuary, leading up to a staircase to the second floor.
The bed was on the second floor, and Lawrence had carried her up the stairs and laid her on the bed. The only other objects in the room were a desk and a chair, an open book of scripture and exegesis, and a few letters. The only decoration was a loop of braided straw on one wall.
There were two second-floor rooms; the other bedroom seemed to be used for storage.
Though he was not intentionally looking around, Lawrence could tell at a glance that the room did not contain any of Father Franz’s writings.
The storeroom contained various items used by the church throughout the year—fabric with ceremonial embroidery, candlesticks, swords, and shields. They were all covered in dust, as though they had not been used in a very long time.
Lawrence closed the storeroom’s door. He heard the sound of light footsteps coming up the stairs, and when he turned to look, he saw it was Holo.
No doubt she had walked all the way around the hallway that encircled the sanctuary, making a quick check of the interior of the church.
The vague displeasure on her face was probably not overconcern for the still-unconscious Elsa, but rather because she had failed to find any of Father Franz’s writings.
“I suppose it will be quickest to ask, after all. If they are hidden, we’ll never find them,” she admitted.
“You can’t sniff them out?” said Lawrence without thinking, but Holo only smiled at him, and he hastily added, “Sorry!”
“So, is she yet asleep? I hardly expected her to be so frail.”
“I don’t know if that’s it. I’m starting to wonder if her circumstances are more difficult than I’d imagined.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but Lawrence couldn’t help reading the letters that were on her desk. Once he finished, he had a much better understanding of the things Elsa had done to stave off Enberch’s intervention.
She had claimed to other churches that like Enberch, Tereo followed the orthodox faith and had sought the support of a nearby feudal lord in order to prevent Enberch from attacking.
But looking at the lord’s response, Lawrence noticed that he seemed to give his sup
port more out of a debt to Father Franz than out of any trust Elsa had won on her own.
There were also letters from large dioceses that even Lawrence had heard of.
On the whole, everything was as Lawrence had guessed.
It was not hard to imagine the days when Elsa would have been frantically anticipating the letter’s arrival. Even Lawrence, an outsider, could imagine the awful suspense she must have felt.
Nonetheless, he had to guess that her greatest hardship lay somewhere else entirely.
The dust-covered artifacts in the storeroom told a tale all too clear.
Though she was holding off Enberch—with the elder’s assistance—it seemed doubtful that any of the villagers felt any gratitude.
It was certainly true that they regarded the church with a measure of disdain.
“…Mm.”
As Lawrence was thinking on it, he heard a small sound coming from the bed.
It seemed Elsa was awake.
Lawrence raised his hand to stop Holo, who looked ready to pounce like a wolf that has heard a hare’s footsteps. He cleared his throat softly. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Elsa did not jerk herself upright, but simply opened her eyes slowly. Her expression was complicated, as though she was unsure whether to feel surprised, frightened, or angry. She seemed to settle on a vaguely troubled look.
She nodded her head slightly. “Are you not going to tie me up?”
They were bold words.
“If it seemed like you were going to call for someone, I was prepared for that. I have rope in my knapsack.”
“And if I should call out now?”
Elsa looked away from Lawrence to Holo—Holo whose wish to know the location of the old tales had brought them here.
“That would benefit neither you nor us,” said Lawrence.
Elsa looked back at Lawrence, closing her eyes. He noticed her long eyelashes.
Despite her stoicism, she was still a young woman.
“What I saw…,” she began, trying to sit up. Lawrence extended his hand to help her, but she waved it off. “I’m fine.”
She looked at Holo with neither malice nor fear, as though looking at heavy clouds that were finally beginning to shed rain. “What I saw was not a dream, was it?”
“’Twould be better for us if you were to think of it as such,” said Holo.
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