Seeing how chipper Holo was made Lawrence feel tired for some reason as he followed after her.
Holo thankfully tread carefully down the path that descended the slight hill. She informed him about holes that were hidden by fallen leaves that made the ground look stable, gauged the direction of the wind, then found them an easy detour.
The forest grew denser and denser, and the air grew heavier and more damp.
There were plenty of evergreens here, and they blocked out the sun.
The occasional outburst of noise and the sound of snapping twigs were likely birds he could not see or squirrels and mice that just barely hid from view.
Plenty of acorns and other seeds were scattered around their feet, and a pig would surely grow fat in an instant if they let one roam around here.
“The farther in we walk, the better this forest becomes,” Holo said with a sigh of admiration, and Lawrence agreed with a nod. “This explains why those in the village do not attend to their fieldwork too diligently,” she added.
“Hmm…It didn’t really seem like the fields in the village were in that sorry a state, though. Is that really the case?”
“They do not think much of it. After all, the villagers can find all the food they want simply by wandering in the forest, so of course ’tis inevitable. Well, because of that, I am even more confounded as to why they quibble over how to deal with the forest. Losing this would put so many in dire straits.”
Holo spoke as she followed a squirrel running atop a tree branch, and Lawrence responded.
“That’s because the blessings of the forest aren’t equal to everyone.”
“Hmm?”
Holo, who had switched from straw to a stick, smacked at a tree root, perhaps because she was bored, as she turned back to Lawrence.
When he crouched down, he found some herbs that were useful in relieving fever, and since Beavery had told them they could take what they wanted from the woods, he readily gathered some.
“Herbs like this, mushrooms, and nuts are useful to everyone. But human activity is complicated.”
Holo said nothing, but her eyes told him to continue.
As Lawrence walked beside her, he spoke.
“The blessings of the forest might be bountiful, but there are only so many things that can be changed into coins.”
“Honey and such?”
“Yeah. I think that’s the best example of food. You can sell ale and cider depending on what’s available, but if the water in the area isn’t any good, then they won’t even consider it. And when you’re so far away from civilization like this, shipping will cost time and money. Liquids are heavy, so transporting the freight will be the costliest part of the process. If the taste isn’t truly excellent, then it’ll barely stand a chance at the market.”
Holo wore a pensive expression, perhaps because she was recalling her mercantile journey with Lawrence.
“Also, they could bring sheep and pigs from town to let them graze here, but distance is still the main problem at the end of the day.”
Something happened right as he was speaking about that.
Holo suddenly stretched out her neck and looked deeper into the forest.
“What is it?”
“…The smell of coal.”
For a moment, he was worried it might be a wildfire, but Holo did not seem flustered. And he realized right away what was causing it.
“It’s traces of the roasting that makes charcoal.”
There was a small mound of dirt.
To make charcoal, firewood was usually piled together with wet leaves on the ground, then set on fire. This pile would be covered by dirt, leaving only a vent or pipe open in the middle to let the air through. After that, all they needed to do was to let it sit for a night or two.
“Everyone needs coal, but there are people who need it more than others.”
“…A butcher, perhaps?”
Lawrence could not help but snort in amusement, which earned a glare from Holo.
“Sorry, sorry. Meat slowly grilled over coal is delicious.”
Holo looked away in a huff and then dug up the remains of the charcoal mound with her stick.
“The people who use coal the most are blacksmiths.”
“Ahhh…Those who constantly burn fuel in the woods, making metallic noises, no?”
“Those are probably much larger smithies. But yeah, something like that.”
“So are they the ones asking for trees to be cut down?”
Holo’s eyes turned to the wooden board he had in hand.
“Sometimes. Especially considering how expensive fuel is now, it makes sense that metal goods are also going up in price. With a forest as fertile as this, they might think of it as a good chance to get rich.”
“How miserly.”
“Don’t let opportunity slip by, they say.”
Holo huffed and then sighed.
“Generally, like I said before, it’s hard to turn all the blessings the villagers are so lucky to receive from the forest into money. But that doesn’t mean that those blessings can be shared with everybody.”
The biggest moneymakers would be the woodcutters who would be the ones chopping down the trees and the cargo handlers who would carry the lumber. Next in line would be the charcoal burners and the blacksmiths. Of course, not all of them would be able to pocket their profits. They would naturally have to pay taxes to Beavery, and that would go into the village’s savings.
But that would soon give birth to a pride that belonged only to those who had earned the village a great deal of money in the first place, and a distinct pecking order would come into existence.
Though they did not engage in moneymaking businesses, the hunters and gatherers who brought much-appreciated variety to the villagers’ dinner tables and those who sweated in the fields would certainly not find that very amusing. What Beavery feared more than the devastation of the forest was unrest in the village.
“There has to be an easier way to make money.”
“Mm.” Holo closed her eyes, as though listening closely to her surroundings, then spoke. “Indeed. What about furs?”
Holo was the embodiment of a wolf, and occasionally wolf furs lined the stalls at the market. It was a delicate subject, but Holo was the one who had brought it up, so he had to answer.
“Furs are one of the very few things that can be exchanged for money, but…most of the hunters agree with cutting down the trees.”
Holo furrowed her brow.
“It’d be easier for them to chase their prey, so they want the trees gone.”
“…”
Holo dropped her shoulders in astonishment and whacked a tree trunk with the stick she held.
“Humans are nothing but fools.”
“But the furriers are against cutting down the trees, so I guess they just balance each other out.”
“…Hmm?”
Holo seemed perplexed. She likely did not understand why the furriers would be opposed to it.
The more animals the hunters hunted, the more work the furriers got.
Lawrence explained the workings of the human world to her.
“You need to tan hides and fur, right? So they need a place deep in the woods for that. That’s why…Oh, right. I guess that’s what they mean by beware of bees.”
When he looked at the trees growing around them, he realized something.
“Oh, well. I guess it’s not the kind of bees that you want to see.”
“Blech…The kind that swarm over cows?”
She was talking about the bloodsucking botfly. It seemed like it was only the insects that escaped the control of the wolves, the kings of the forest. Holo wore an expression of disgust.
“No, the kind that swarm trees.”
“’Tis…not that? Bees that collect syrup? Those are everywhere.”
The beehive they had acquired not too long ago was also a collection of nectar from trees full of sap.
But insects used trees
in various ways.
“The kind that build their homes inside the trees. Haven’t you seen the weird seeds growing on the trees?”
Holo looked at him blankly, then nodded vaguely.
“Aye…occasionally. The kind that grow directly from the tree branches, no? But to call those ‘seeds’…they are odd gnarls in the wood. They are not meant for eating.”
She stuck out her tongue and scrunched up her face; maybe she had eaten one before.
“Those grow because that’s where the bees lay their eggs. It’s a cradle, you could say.”
Holo, who was so disgusted by insects parasitically devouring other insects that it made her cry, went pale as she learned that fact. But since she also sang praises about how delicious bee larva was, her curiosity seemed to win out.
“And? What does that have to do with furs?”
“Plenty. Furriers cut off those knobs, steep them in water, and boil the stuff, then tan the hides with the resulting liquid.”
“Ohhh. And so…I see. A stack of furs is wonderful but not without any material to tan it with.”
“Exactly. And fur is one of the few goods that can be readily sold for cash. It’s the greatest influence in this village when it comes to saving the forest.”
Holo nodded and looked at him as though they had finally seen the light, but she then seemed to notice something.
“But, dear, between the furs and the lumber, which will produce the most money?”
He expected nothing less from the wisewolf—no, from the wife of a former merchant.
“Definitely the lumber, without a doubt.”
Holo huffed, disappointed, and tossed away her stick.
Then, as she looked around her, she folded her arms almost like she was the ruler of the forest. Even she understood that the promise of gaining a bigger profit held more weight.
“But like I said this morning, we need your wisdom.”
They had come into the forest with the ray of hope that they might find something of monetary value rivaling lumber that could support the furriers’ position, but it was not going so well.
Just as Lawrence knew the ins and outs of a market, the villagers here had been living alongside this forest ever since they were born. It would have been arrogant to think that he alone might notice something that they had not.
“Hmm…I can speak to the merits of keeping the forest whole and the ill effects that would come from knocking down the trees…”
“That, or we could peel away a layer off you.”
When Lawrence said that, Holo pouted and her ears and tail swayed in discontent.
“’Tis this current form of mine that has no layers to peel back.”
“Then, maybe it’d be more accurate to say that we should put another layer of fur on you?”
Holo’s true identity was that of a massive, towering wolf. If the villagers caught a glimpse of her enormous shadow and heard her howling at the moon, the king of the dark forests might be able to strike some fear into them.
If they feared her anger, then it was possible they might also refrain from touching the trees in the forest.
“…But I shall be troubled if a weak little girl or some other gets sent into the forest. I cannot always come here to this wood.”
For people who were aware of the old ways that had long existed before the Church’s teachings spread, it was a given what they should do when confronted with the wrath of not just the king of the forest but also the spirits that inhabited the mountains and springs. Lawrence could already imagine Holo in her wolf form, flustered by a sobbing girl who had been offered as a human sacrifice. He found the image kind of comical, but he couldn’t laugh. Moreover, if the people came to fear the forest and no longer went in it, then that would just create an even bigger problem. They would be getting their priorities mixed up if they created a situation where no one dared touch the blessings of the forest in order to preserve it.
“Eloquence is rather your specialty, is it not?”
He didn’t want to hear that from Holo, who begged for food using all sorts of tricks, and apparently, it showed on his face.
Holo approached him, very deliberately stepped on his foot, then walked a few paces away and crossed her arms.
“’Tis your specialty, is it not?”
“Yes, it is,” he responded with a sigh as he groaned.
“Mmmm…It just comes down to money, doesn’t it…? I can’t believe it’s such a rich forest, and none of it is worth any money…”
The villagers in Beavery’s territory had also likely heard the rumors, but if anyone headed south down the river, they would easily see the current state of the world for themselves. Everywhere, trade was erupting, and all the lumber that people needed to fuel their businesses was being sent down the river. It would be more unusual to not think about taking part and sharing in those gains.
Lawrence personally thought that it would be fine if they ruined a small part of the forest, cutting down some trees to earn some money.
The reason he did not say that out loud was for Holo’s sake.
She had a short temper whenever it came to the woods, and the greater reason he offered to help Beavery in the first place was to get a small share of ink and paper so she could continue to write about their journey.
And of course, the ever-shrewd Holo had not forgotten that.
The wind blew through the trees, and after spending a moment staring up at the swaying canopy hanging above them, Holo spoke.
“I cannot fight against large currents, either. If the human world wishes for shiny coins, then I cannot go against them.”
“Holo?”
“And one requires silver and gold to write, no? In that case, I cannot think it right to stand in the way of villagers who wish to make some money. They have things they want, just as I do.”
Naturally, the people of the village were not intending to sell lumber so they could buy luxuries. They simply did not want to miss the good opportunity to gain some valuable coins.
If the village built up their savings, then they could have the option of leaving the village during a crop failure to buy produce in a nearby town, and they could secure the metal tools they needed for their forest and farmwork. Or perhaps they could set up a new water mill at the creek nearby. Money directly improved these people’s lives and made them richer.
Just as the scripture said that people could not live on bread alone, the villagers could not cover everything with the blessings of the earth alone.
Holo stood limply by the charcoal-burning remains, as though she, too, had been burned to ashes.
“I thought I had given up on protecting the forests such a long, long time ago,” Holo said with a bitter smile and came to Lawrence’s side.
Instead of stomping on his foot, she grasped his hand.
“Just as you found it difficult to start a fire and now grip the reins too tightly after setting off on your first journey in years, I, too, have steeped in the baths for too long and have forgotten about the ways of the world.”
Sometimes, one simply had to pretend to look away when the world did not turn out as one hoped.
Both Lawrence, who had walked the path of a merchant, and Holo, who had no choice but to stand by and watch as the times changed, were keenly aware of this.
Lawrence gripped Holo’s small hand in return, leaned over, and kissed the base of her wolf ears.
“At the very least, Beavery is a kind lord. He probably won’t go overboard as the ruler of this land.”
“…Mm.”
Holo nodded, and like a clingy cat, she pressed her face into his chest.
The wishes of Holo and Lord Beavery, who both prayed for the peace of the forest, could not come true.
Lord Beavery was a compassionate man—if Lawrence apologized perfectly and presented him with that massive beehive as an apology, then he might still share some ink and paper.
When his train of thought got that far, inspiration struck hi
m.
“Right. If we took the ink and paper from Lord Beavery, we could sell it at a high price for him, and that might help.”
Either way, there were not many people who could read and write in such a remote country town.
If it was all just going to rot away, unused, then they should have at least thought about exchanging it for money.
To make up for failing in the request he so readily accepted, it might be better if Lawrence could turn that into silver.
When he explained all that, Holo smiled wryly.
“Even if you fell over, you would not get up for free.”
“I am a merchant, after all,” he said in a joking manner, and Holo chuckled, then sighed.
“Then first, we must go to apologize, yes? We may not be having any delicious meat tonight.”
“Could you write down your memories of our trip on some tree bark for now, like on this board? We’ll buy some paper and ink when we get the chance.”
“Mm. Or would that charcoal there be of any use?”
When Holo said that, Lawrence looked to the remains.
“Charcoal alone would blur immediately. I’ve seen it being used as a substitute for ink by mixing it with glue, but in order to make glue, you need to boil bones and animal tendons for a long time. And then you also need trees from the forest…or something like that.”
“Well, ’tis no help at all!”
Lawrence could not help but smile at Holo’s deliberate yell.
“But, dear,” she said. “Then how is the ink I always use made?”
“Hmm? Well, you boil these nubs from trees that are shaped like seeds called gallnuts. These nubs are also used to tan hide…Huh?”
“Oh?”
Both Holo and Lawrence looked at each other.
“Dear,” Holo said, and a taut smile crossed Lawrence’s face.
“…The knowledge might be in my head, but I can’t always take it out at will.”
“Much like your purse.”
They’re not the same, is what he wanted to say, but he could not help but smile when he saw Holo’s eyes glittering with anticipation and her tail swishing back and forth.
“The villagers probably haven’t noticed the possibility, either.”
The only one who could read and write was the landowner Beavery. Or perhaps Beavery himself could not even do it. It was a common thing for places far away from towns, so there was not much they could do if the idea had not been in their heads to begin with.
Spring Log IV Page 11