Spice and Wolf, Vol. 3

by Isuna Hasekura

  "Thank you for the trouble.”

  "No, no. However, do allow me to take you for a tour about town as well next time.”

  Concerning the speech for this kind of social intercourse, Amati's behavior was certainly that of a merchant. Even though Amati, who was younger than Lawrence by five or six years, possessed an unreliably weak appearance, surely he was a true merchant at heart.

  Even with all his attention on Horo, he had not forgotten about proper behavior.

  Just as Lawrence was telling himself to be careful not to drop his guard, the door to the firm opened once again.

  Because of Amati, who had directed his gaze toward the door at the same time as Lawrence and uttered a "Just in time," Lawrence immediately understood who it was that had just walked in.

  "Then, Mr. Lawrence, I shall take my leave now," said Amati. "Ah, yes, I am counting on you.”

  Lawrence was unsure whether Amati had no other affairs to take care of in coming to the firm, or had forgotten his original intention with his head so completely filled with Horo now. Amati left the firm as soon as he had bid farewell.

  Although Lawrence had left Horo a silver coin, she was most likely still in bed and not yet out of doors. Given Amati's infatuated look, Horo probably need only open her mouth for him to buy everything she desired. To Horo, Amati would surely be a perfect fathead.

  Though the thought inevitably inspired some sympathy for Amati, the way he looked, he was probably more than happy to open his wallet anyway.

  If Horo's happy mood could be bought with another's wallet, nothing could make Lawrence happier. Yet, unfortunately, as long as Lawrence was standing before Horo, his mind could not turn so quickly.

  Not only was he always a step behind Horo in terms of reaction, it only took one small trick from Horo for him to be completely and utterly defeated.

  Just as Lawrence was thinking how difficult it would be to surpass Horo given the number of years she had lived, the man who had entered the firm after Amati looked once about the room before heading in Lawrence's direction.

  Lawrence had heard that Mark's apprentice had run all over Kumerson for his sake, and Bartose was probably approaching him because he had already received the news that Lawrence was looking for him.

  After lightly nodding a greeting, Lawrence revealed a business smile. "Pardon me, are you Mr. Craft Lawrence? I am Guy Bartose,”

  Bartose said, and reached out his right hand. His right hand was as rough and heavy as that of a soldier who had been through countless battles.

  According to Mark's explanation, Bartose seemed to be a traveling merchant who was more devoted to making money in order to drink than doing business for the sake of earning money. But after actually seeing him, Lawrence felt that Bartose gave off a completely opposite feeling.

  Walking along the street, Bartose's stocky body had the steady appearance of a slightly shorter-than-normal coffin (note: couldn't help laughing at this one. I've heard people described in various ways, but this is the first time I've heard someone being described as "coffin-like" xD). The messy growth upon his face was akin to sea urchin needles, and the skin on his face like leather totally insusceptible to the blowing of wind and scraping of sand. During the handshake, Bartose's right palm felt nothing like that of a traveling merchant who held onto horse reins all day and led a leisurely life, but that which instantly revealed that he carried heavy objects all year long.

  Despite possessing such an appearance, Bartose was neither stubborn nor eccentric, and spoke in a way that reminded one of the mildness of a clergyman.

  "I've heard that lately there have been many like you Mr. Lawrence, who are traveling among countries and doing business. I've always traveled between the same places and sold the same merchandise, which is starting to get a bit tiring.”

  "The retailers and craftsmen within the town would surely criticize you for saying such," replied Lawrence. "Hahahahaha, that's for sure. After all, even merchants who've sold leather ropes for fifty years are everywhere to be seen. Saying that one is getting tired so easily would surely cause criticism,”

  Bartose said laughingly. He was a merchant who bought and sold precious metals, traveling among the mining areas of Hairam. Lawrence had heard that he had been traveling to-and-fro between such precipitous mountains and Kumerson for almost thirty years.

  Bearing heavy loads while traveling over the course of several decades upon the steep mountains of Hairam, which received such strong winds and upon which no tree could grow, was not something a normal person could achieve.

  The reason Bartose would always hang around in Kumerson during the week before and after the town fair was surely in order to get a period of much-needed rest.

  "But Mr. Lawrence, you sure have a peculiar interest.” “Huh?”

  "I heard you were searching for a chronicler in order to hear some ancient Northern legends. Or could this be for some kind of business?”

  "No, it is not like that. I should say it is due to a vigorous curiosity.”

  "Hahahaha. Even at such a young age, you've cultivated a nice interest. As for me, I've only recently become interested in ancient legends. I originally planned to turn this into some kind of business, but ended up becoming completely captivated by the tales.”

  Turning ancient legends into a kind of business was something Lawrence could never have thought of, but, having taken an interest in Bartose's subject, Lawrence listened quietly as he continued.

  "For several decades, I've been going back and forth between the same places. One day, it suddenly hit me that the world I knew was an extremely narrow one. Yet, centuries ago, there had already been people traveling back and forth along the path I now travel on, and I of course don't know the situation back then.”

  Lawrence felt that he understood Bartose's meaning.

  The more regions one had traveled upon, the greater the sense that the world was unfolding before his very eyes.

  If Lawrence's perception of the world could be compared to the width of a pond, Bartose's perception of the world would be its depth.

  "I'm getting old, no longer possessing the vigor to travel to faraway places, and time cannot be turned back. Therefore, even if it's just legends, I want to learn more about the world I haven't been able to see, as well as the ancient past that the heavens have maliciously prevented me from going back to. When I was young, I only cared about pursuing the profits before me, and never even thought of such things. If I had had the spare energy to think about these matters, perhaps my life would have turned out differently.and so, seeing you taking interest in such things at such an early age makes me a bit envious. Haha, the way I'm talking really makes me seem like a withered old man.”

  Although Bartose was laughing a bit self-mockingly, his speech was more or less deeply felt by Lawrence.

  It wasn't until Bartose had pointed it out that Lawrence realized, through legends or myths, one could learn about what one definitely could not have experienced in person, which indeed contained an alluring charm.

  Lawrence seemed to finally understand the weight of what Horo had said so casually not long after they had first met: "You and I live in entirely different worlds.”

  At that point in time, the people who had once lived within the same era as she did were already long gone from the world; much of the time Horo had been through had become time unknown.

  Moreover, Horo was a wolf, not a human.

  Thinking this, a sense was generated that, on a different level of meaning, Horo's existence seemed particularly special.

  Through all of Horo's travels up till now, what had she seen? What had she heard?

  Lawrence decided that when he returned to the inn later, he would ask her about the experiences she had had in her previous travels.

  "However, as far as the Church is concerned, such legends and myths are but superstitions and pagans' tales. As long as a region is under the surveillance of the Church, it's difficult to gather up a complete collection. Be
cause Hairam is a mountainous region, it has many interesting tales. But, those parts are also under the Church's surveillance. On this point, Kumerson is free of such misgivings," Bartose continued.

  Precisely due to the fact that Proania was a country in which pagans and Christians coexisted with one another, the Church would usually issue strict regulations in those regions and towns where it held some influence.

  On the other hand, those pagan towns that were ready to expel the influence of the Church would always be in a guarded state of battle-readiness. Within Proania, Kumerson, which could peacefully draw a line and isolate itself from these problems, was perhaps a very special existence.

  Yet, to say that such a town was free of the problem of antagonism would not be entirely correct.

  In order to meet with the chronicler, Lawrence and Bartose had come to a district located at the northern end of Kumerson.

  Kumerson was built on the premise of allowing expansion, so its walls were constructed with easily- disassembled wooden frames. Consequently, the streets and buildings could be constructed to be quite spacious.

  Yet within Kumerson that featured such a town plan, there existed a stone wall whose height towered above people's heads.

  This stone wall was used to mark the residential district of people who were being pursued by the Church and had escaped to this region from the South or from other towns in Proania.

  The fact that a stone wall was used to mark this boundary was iron-clad proof that the town residents considered the people living behind this wall a troublesome existence. Although these people were not seen as criminals in Kumerson, in a place like Rubinhaigen, for example, they were considered criminals who could immediately be beheaded. As such, it was only natural that they would be seen as troublesome.

  However, Lawrence immediately changed his view.

  The existence of the wall was probably not simply to isolate them, it probably needed to be there, Lawrence thought to himself.

  "Is that…the smell of sulfur?”

  "Haha, do you also sell medicinal rocks (note: Europeans used sulfur for medicinal purposes)?" Bartose responded.

  The Hairam region possessed several highly productive mines, which were also the source of a variety of different ores. Bartose, who traveled through this region regularly, was perhaps already used to the smell of sulfur, but Lawrence involuntarily scrunched up his face at the peculiar stink.

  As soon as they came through the door in the stone wall, the odor that attacked his sense of smell made Lawrence instantly realize what kind of people lived within this district. They were the Church's greatest enemy – alchemists.

  "No…I just have a bit of knowledge about it," replied Lawrence. "Knowledge is a merchant's weapon. You are a good merchant.” “…I am flattered.”

  As soon as they were through the door, Lawrence realized that the ground surface in this district was significantly lower than in other parts of the town.

  The intervals between the buildings also appeared narrow. Although the sight reminded one of the familiar town alleyways, there were some peculiarities.

  First of all, as they walked along the small lanes, Lawrence would occasionally catch sight of bird feathers. "After all, when the poisonous wind is blowing, it doesn't always carry a scent, so they keep small birds. If the birds start dying all of a sudden, it's time to be careful," Bartose explained.

  Although Lawrence had heard that areas like mining regions took such safety measures, actually being in a place that used this kind of safety measure still made his spine go cold.

  Even though "poisonous wind" was a nice way of describing it, Lawrence still thought that the Church's preferred term, "hand of Death" was a closer description – as soon as one noticed that the wind blowing his way was unusually frigid, he would realize that his body was completely paralyzed, as if frozen – it was said that this was the sensation that had yielded the description, "hand of Death.”

  The little cats that similarly could be seen wherever one went in the alleys, could they have been kept for the same purpose as that of the birds? Or were the cats gathered for the purpose of hunting the birds?

  Whether it was the former or the latter, both possibilities only made Lawrence uncomfortable. "Mr. Bartose.”

  It had been a long time since Lawrence last found it painful to walk quietly upon a paved path.

  Within the dark alleys would occasionally be heard the cries of cats and the beating of bird wings, as well as the eerie sound of metal, plus the air was filled with the choking stink of sulfur. Lawrence could not stand this kind of atmosphere, and thus tried conversing with Bartose who was walking ahead of him.

  "Could you tell me how many alchemists live within this district?" he asked.

  "That…counting the apprentices, probably around twenty. Although, accidents occur frequently here after all, so I don't know the exact number.”

  What Bartose had meant to say was that people died here frequently.

  Lawrence regretted asking such a question, and quickly switched to a more merchant-like question: "Does doing business with alchemists yield good profits? Feels like it would be accompanied by many risks.” “Mm…”

  Bartose avoided a barrel of unknown content and whose sides were stained with an unknown green substance that would make anyone who saw it lose all sleepiness, and replied in a leisurely manner: "If it's an alchemist supported by members of the aristocracy, the profits are very good. Because other than gold, silver, and bronze, they will also purchase large quantities of iron, lead, tin, mercury, sulfur, phosphorus, etc.”

  The items mentioned by Bartose were unexpectedly ordinary, which came as a surprise to Lawrence. Lawrence had expected to hear more bizarre items, such as five-legged frogs for example.

  "Hahaha, are you surprised? Even among those doing business in the North, the majority think that alchemists are sorcerers. In fact, they aren't much different from blacksmiths. Their work has always just consisted of things like heating up metal, or using corrosive acids to melt metal," Bartose explained.

  The two made a right turn at a narrow intersection. "Although there are some among them that do study magic,”

  Bartose said, turning around his head and raising the corners of his mouth in a tooth-revealing grin.

  Lawrence, a bit unsettled by all this, stopped in his tracks. Perceiving this, Bartose, as if apologizing for his mischief, immediately said smilingly: "But, that's just a rumor that I've heard before. Besides, I heard that even the alchemists living in this area have never seen someone knowledgeable in the use of magic. I should also mention that the people living here are all nice people.”

  It was the first time Lawrence had ever heard anyone use the words "good people" to describe alchemists, who spent their energy day and night in the performing of anti-God acts.

  Whenever the subject of alchemists was brought up, people would always be filled with a combined sense of fear and curiosity, a difficult-to-describe feeling of immorality.

  "How do you say it, they are my 'providing parents' after all, so I couldn't possibly say they were bad people right?”

  Hearing such a merchant-like utterance from Bartose, Lawrence loosened up a bit and smiled. Within a second's time, Bartose had stopped before a residence.

  The surface of the path, which received no sunlight and was filled with bumps and holes, contained several dark puddles of water.

  The wall facing the narrow alley contained a wooden window that was slightly ajar. Perhaps it was the mind playing tricks, but this two-tiered building seemed to be inclined at an angle.

  The building's appearance was no different from that which could be found in a corner of any town slum. However, there was one key difference.

  It was the fact this place was filled with a dead silence, completely devoid of the sound of children at play. "You don't have to be so tense. The person you'll be meeting is very easy to get along with.”

  Even though Bartose had reassured him thus several ti
mes already, Lawrence, hearing this, could still only manage a vague smile.

  Asking Lawrence not to be tense was simply too much to ask.

  Because within this district lived people branded as serious criminals by the most not-to-be-opposed organization in the world.

  "Is anyone in?”

  Even so, Bartose still knocked fearlessly on the front door and called out in a casual tone. Yet, the dried-up door appeared as if it had not been opened for years.

  From some unknown location came the weak cry of a cat.

  A cenobite regarded as a pagan and being pursued by a monastery.

  The image of an old man dressed in a tattered robe and like a wizened frog in appearance formed and then disappeared in Lawrence's mind.

  That was a world that a normal traveling merchant would not step into. At that moment, the door began to open gradually.

  "Hmm? If it isn't Mr. Bartose.”

  The moment he heard this utterance, Lawrence felt a disappointment of his expectations, and even his knees seemed to lose their strength.

  "Long time no see. You seem to be in good spirits. That's wonderful.”

  "You stole the words out of my mouth. You're safe and sound even though you've been going back and forth among the mountains of Hairam. It's apparent that the Almighty greatly favors you.”

  When the thin wooden door had opened, a tall, blue-eyed woman appeared at the doorway. She was dressed in a long robe, and appeared to be a few years older than Lawrence. The loosely-cut robe looked particularly seductive on a woman.

  The woman spoke in a lively tone, and there was no disputing the fact that she was an absolute beauty. Yet, Lawrence suddenly recalled the legend of alchemists searching for magic that would produce immortality.

  Witch.

  As the word surfaced in Lawrence's mind, the woman directed her gaze toward him.

  "Ooh, it's a handsome boy. But it seems, from the look on his face, that he has taken me for a witch.” “In that case, I may as well introduce you as such.”

  "Don't be like that. This place is gloomy enough as it is. Besides, how could a witch possibly be as beautiful as myself?”