Spring Log

by Isuna Hasekura

  The world was endless, and wherever one went, it already belonged to somebody.

  “A miracle, hmm.”

  Holo murmured and took a deep breath.

  “Would you be angry with me if I became an enemy of humanity?”

  If he gave an easy answer, Holo would scorn him. And if he trusted her, then the words came naturally.

  “If you became my enemy or if you broke everything I kept dear. But I know you won’t. So I’ll listen. What’s your idea?”

  “…I do not like it when you make my head hurt like that.”

  He would take that as a compliment.

  “I cannot create miracles, but I believe I can create the opposite of miracles.”

  But Holo did have some crazy ideas.

  “The opposite of miracles?”

  “A curse.”

  The sun was already starting to set, and it was dim inside the building.

  It was the time when demons hid in the darkness everywhere—around the corners, beside the bookshelves.

  “I recall a fairy tale. Men filled with greed are led by their guide to the place where treasure lies. They thought the guide an honest one, but the shadow he cast by the bonfire had fangs.”

  It was certainly the type of story to scare children, but Lawrence unwittingly showed a twitching smile.

  Usually, he would let it pass as a silly story, but he thought carefully about it.

  The situation now was exactly the same as that fairy tale.

  “Once they enter the mountains, it will not end safely. Demons of the mountains spread rumors of treasure. Those monks from long ago lost their fear of such a thing.”

  Then, the people would not go near the mountain, and the stories of silver would grow vague.

  Though there were reckless ones who thought, Damn the stories, and ventured up anyway, but they would be surrounded by wolves deep in the mountains.

  And there, they would also find a giant wolf who could easily swallow a person whole.

  “You can’t.”

  That voice echoed coolly in the cold hallway.

  “The people of today’s world are not afraid of the dark forests.”

  It was Millike, holding a letter. It had not been rolled yet, and when he gave it a light shake, the sand to dry the ink scattered to the ground.

  “They move about in confusion in the forest, and perhaps after being bitten a bit, they’ll leave. But the next time they come, they will just bring heaps of boiling oil and torches. They’ll set fire to the mountain and burn it all down, along with whatever nasty thing lives there.”

  That way they would expose the darkness of the forest, where the demons and spirits lived, to the light.

  “Sometimes, people like Aram come to this town from the south. Without the blessing of wits to live in the human world, and yet those who no longer have a place to hide themselves. They reluctantly hope to survive in the north because they think there are still untouched lands.”

  Though there were some here and there, they were places that were incredibly difficult to live in. It was different from the south, where it was warm, where the tree limbs grew heavy with ripened fruit, where one could find wild honey to eat.

  “That is why since they came pretending to be monks, they succeeded. If it were a sanctuary, people would still pay some respect.”

  They had many choices. There would be no way to know which one was the best choice.

  And it was not easy to pretend to be a monk. Since Svernel was now a town that celebrated the Revitalization Festival of the Patron Saint on a grand scale, if new monks came to the ruins of the monastery, then there would be fervent believers that might go to pray. It was only a matter of time before someone found out.

  “Well, it seems the ink’s dry. Take this to Hilde at Debau. It has the gist of the situation and the plan in it.”

  He rolled it up and tied it with an odd string.

  “You use such old things.”

  Holo smiled dryly, and Lawrence finally realized the string was likely Millike’s hair.

  “Sealing wax will break in the cold, and this is proof of my identity.”

  “’Tis true.”

  “I’ll have a carriage take you outside the wall.”

  Things were moving along quickly. There was no time for sentimentality or to leave any aftertaste.

  No one spoke of Selim, and when they exited the government building, they climbed onto the driver’s perch of the carriage Millike had prepared for them, and Lawrence gripped the reins.

  Night had already fallen on the town, but the town was instead dyed a madder-lake red.

  Lit all throughout town were not lamps, but fires to roast the meat.

  “Looks delicious…”

  Her words were carefree, but her heart was not in it.

  She was likely still unwilling to move ahead in her mind as they left Selim and the others behind.

  “You can eat as much as you like when we get back.”

  Lawrence stuck to Holo’s topic.

  The two things he learned as he grew older were that he had to understand the things he could and could not do in this world, as well as the boldness to pretend he had not realized certain things.

  Conversation did not spark between them, and the carriage passed slowly through the town.

  Then, they could see the square at the end of the road. The torches shone brightly, and they could see well the large statue of the saint.

  “What would they gain from such a thing?”

  “Who knows? It might be to protect them from illness or to keep away enemies from outside. At the end of the festival they light it on fire, and that is when the saint gives his body to God in our place. Then in thanks, they take the ashes and bury them at the base of the city walls. There are several saints with stories like that, and maybe it really happened in an old era.”

  The townspeople explained this and that to him when they were making the statue, but it was nothing new.

  “It must be quite troublesome to be a saint or whatnot. Even after you die and become ashes, you still must work for the town.”

  “It’s better to be ashes, I think. There’s a famous church that houses the body of a saint that shriveled up a thousand years ago. Every single day pilgrims come to his side as he sleeps and offer prayers. It can’t be possible for him to sleep well like that.”

  “I would not mind being worshipped about once a year…”

  Holo spoke, and she looked straight at him.

  “If you’re going to watch me for a thousand years, at least just eat me,” said Lawrence.

  Holo bared her fangs and cackled.

  “But pilgrimage sites make a lot of money. It’s fine if towns like these know they’re fake from the start, but there are many places that say they have the real remains of saints.”

  “Hmm? How does one know if ’tis a fake? Should they be dead, would it not be difficult to tell?”

  “It’s easy. Saint Alviross had five arms, and Saint Heres had two heads. The thing that makes me laugh the most is Martyr Rudeon’s bones. There are three bodies of his, and they’re all different sizes. They say they’re his bones from when he was very little, then bones from his childhood, then from when he was adolescent.”

  “Hmm? Is there something odd about that?”

  Her response was nonchalant. Rather, Lawrence even thought that she was teasing him.

  “…He couldn’t have molted like a shrimp or crab. Why would one human leave multiple skeletons?”

  “Oh.”

  It seemed that she really did not notice. Holo hit Lawrence’s arm, even though she was the one that misunderstood and exposed her foolishness.

  “Even though everyone knew at first that they weren’t real, as time passed everyone started to think of them that way. That’s why, as they bury the ashes of the burned statue under the walls, I’m sure at some point they might believe that the ashes of the saint are really buried there.”

  “Humans are
foolish.”

  Holo was smiling softly, as though remembering a funny dream she had the previous night, either because she was exasperated or because she thought the foolishness of humans endearing.

  “But if they are, why not take advantage of that?”

  “Take advantage?”

  “You should concoct something fake and make the monastery in the mountains its pilgrimage site and whatnot.”

  He stared back at Holo not because he was surprised at such a reckless idea. He was surprised that she had not yet given up on Selim and the others.

  Lawrence pulled on the reins, and the horses stopped. Holo did not ask why they did so.

  “I will work my hardest, and when I open a new bathhouse, I also have the option of hiring them.”

  “I have no doubts that if you save enough money for that, you will go through with it.”

  Holo was not stupid. She of course knew how much time and money it would cost to open a new business.

  “Holo…”

  “Apologies. ’Twas nonsense. I wanted an excuse.”

  She tried her best, but it was no use.

  When Lawrence did not respond, Holo gave a strong smile.

  “Let me off. I know what we must do.”

  So that this would not end up in trouble with the pope, they would have the Debau Company settle it for them. Aram and Selim would have to give up. Lawrence and Holo themselves would watch the festival, then return to Nyohhira. Everything would pass without incident.

  But Millike had said that Aram and the others were much like themselves from ten years ago.

  Then, they had drawn in their own luck. At the very end, they did.

  He could only think that their luck was good. He had used all the knowledge he knew, and if he had not depended on Holo in the end, it would not have come to fruition, even if he did know how to do it.

  That was luck.

  Aram and the others did not have that.

  “I think it would be great, really, if we could use your pilgrimage site idea.”

  Lawrence held the reins again and smacked the rump of the horse.

  “…”

  Holo did not look at him and nodded meekly.

  “Even if the roads are bad—no, because the roads are bad, people will come and give lots of tithes. If you annexed an inn there, you would already have many guests. It’s much easier than running a bathhouse. You just need to be careful that someone won’t steal the holy artifacts on display.”

  The carriage headed toward the city wall, and there were fewer and fewer people.

  “It’s not a bathhouse, so it wouldn’t conflict with Nyohhira. Rather, pilgrims on their way home might even stop by at Nyohhira. And everyone would be happy.”

  He added that they might come to quarrel over the distribution of food and drink, though.

  “But even if we made up some artifacts, it would be difficult to have them recognized as the real thing. We don’t have that problem in the bathhouses. As long as we have spring water, no one will doubt us.”

  Declining towns always thought at least once to change their town into a pilgrimage site as a way to revive themselves.

  “Typically, you need to get approval from the center of the Church, or at least the archbishop. For that, you need proof that it’s a real miracle, or if not, a mountain of gold nuggets that could be considered nothing but a miracle.”

  Because the designation was a method to get rich, it required the appropriate amount of payment. Since this was all the Church was ever doing, they had likely lost some of their authority.

  “Well, the most I am able to do is mostly child’s play.”

  Holo was the embodiment of a wolf who lived in wheat and had watched over the growing golden fields. Once, she had shown him a seed immediately turning into a stalk of wheat.

  “That might come in handy, depending on the situation.”

  The place in question was too cold to grow wheat, so it would be too unnatural.

  “And there’s also your miraculous appetite.”

  “Fool.”

  Holo stomped on Lawrence’s foot.

  Then, her foot resting on his in place of holding hands, she spoke.

  “Do you think we can do it if I show my true form?”

  “Everyone will be surprised, but that’s different than a miracle.”

  Holo had showed all the cards in her hand, but none of them would help. The carriage reached the city gates at the wall.

  They had to give in to the reality that confronted them.

  “For now, let’s leave the town and go where there’s no one else. I have to wrap your clothes around your neck.”

  “There were no walls where the Debau Company was. I hope they do not mind my intruding as a wolf.”

  “Mr. Hilde is the embodiment of a rabbit. I don’t think he’d want a wolf standing by his pillow at night.”

  “Heh-heh. Of course.”

  “Well, it’s a lot of work, but thank you. Nyohhira’s survival depends on this, too.”

  “Leave it to me.”

  Using the pass they received from Millike, they exited the walls, and it suddenly felt colder. Inside and outside the walls were two different worlds.

  “But if you run fast, you can get to the Debau Company in Lesko in one night. It takes three days hurrying with human legs. That in itself is a miracle.”

  “Hmm. They, too, should just become merchants. They could deliver faster than anyone, running around with goods on their back.”

  He thought it was possible at first, but he calmly thought about it and shook his head.

  “People would wonder how they carried it. They might think magic or something nefarious was at play. They might think that someone is there that shouldn’t be.”

  “The human world is quite troublesome.”

  As Holo spoke, she began to remove her clothes, as though determining that no one was around.

  For the moment, he averted his gaze out of respect, but his eyes suddenly went to the walls.

  There were small nails evenly spaced along the wall. They looked like small mounds, and it was probably where they buried the ashes of the saint’s statue.

  Luckily, since they were not the real ashes, there was no tired expression of the saint, sitting on the mounds being made to protect the town, nor did the saint have to endure a coughing fit every year after they dug the holes and added new ashes.

  “Ha-ha.”

  It was when he imagined that and laughed.

  He thought he saw Selim sitting on a mound, looking at him.

  “What is it?”

  Holo, removing her last piece of clothing, noticed Lawrence.

  Lawrence tried his hardest to think of the meaning of what he had just seen.

  Sitting on the mound, the saint, who should not be there.

  This, too, was a common type of narrative in the Church.

  The most conspicuous example was grave robbing.

  “…Hey.”

  Not looking away from the mounds, he swallowed, and then spoke.

  “I want to ask something.”

  “What is it?”

  He jumped a little because her voice was rather close.

  He turned around, and Holo was practically whispering in his ear.

  “’Tis been a long time since I’ve seen that expression.”

  Holo narrowed her eyes, grinning. Her tail wagged happily.

  “…I might not be able to live up to your expectations…There is a chance you might become angry.”

  “Hmm?” Holo said, and her animal ears twitched, as if saying, Say what you want to say.

  Lawrence once again put together the plan in his head and thought it over.

  It could work, but there were parts of it that might offend Holo.

  Lawrence spoke slowly of the ridiculous plan that had popped into his head, and approaching the delicate parts, he said:

  “Would you get angry if I sat atop another woman?”

  Holo’s
smile clearly changed to a forced one.

  Then, she spoke.

  “I trust you. I shall not grow angry over every single thing. And I have sharp eyes and ears.”

  And of course, sharp fangs.

  But the way she spoke was her mark of approval.

  “Of course, ’tis the only choice with your plan.”

  “You go ahead and follow Mr. Millike’s plan, because I don’t know if this will work out well.”

  “Hmm. I, too, wish to run freely by myself sometimes.”

  She removed her last piece of clothing, intentionally threw it at Lawrence, and jumped from the carriage, now naked.

  “Are you forgetting your praise?” She was not the least bit embarrassed.

  Instead, she seemed cold.

  “This reminds me of old times,” Lawence said, and Holo widened her eyes in surprise, then immediately laughed.

  “Fool.”

  In that moment, she returned to a giant wolf.

  “My clothes,” she said to him, and Lawrence hurriedly folded the clothes she had scattered everywhere and gathered them with a string. Like a big dog, she was bumping his head with her nose the entire time.

  “I’m counting on you.”

  The wolf’s sharp, magnificent eyes stared at Lawrence.

  “You as well.”

  Holo swiftly stood and gazed out at the horizon.

  “Should those fools make a small village of wolves, then we know what the name of their patron saint shall be.”

  He could tell she was smiling with that fanged mouth.

  And before Lawrence could say anything, Holo dashed off like the wind.

  He wiped off the mud she had splattered on him as she ran off, likely on purpose, until he could no longer see her.

  “Honestly…”

  He swore, but his face smiled.

  He made Holo expect quite a bit from this. If this ended in a fruitless delight, then he did not know what she would do to him.

  “Well then, let’s go make miracles!”

  With newfound energy, he jumped onto the driver’s perch of the wagon.

  When Lawrence returned to the city government building, he summoned Millike.

  He told him about his plan and saw how it made the other man wear a clear frown.

  Though he had that expression, Millike did not say no.

  “This way, the Debau Company will calm down, the Church will save face, and Aram and the others can live there.”