Spring Log IV

by Isuna Hasekura

  Lawrence took a deep breath, mentally taking on the role of someone who simply happened upon Holo in his travels. A shameless performance was the perfect chance for a former merchant to show off his skill.

  And due to his business, he had made connections with people in relative positions of power. If things got bad, he could just rely on them, so there was no need to be too worried.

  Just as he watched Holo off as he thought about all that, a word reached his ears that sounded entirely out of place.

  “Please wait! Could you perhaps be Lady Myuri?!”

  “Huh?”

  It was not just Lawrence but Holo, who was trying to disappear into the crowd, who was shocked by this, and she stopped in her tracks.

  That was because they had just heard the name of Lawrence and Holo’s only daughter.

  “…Dear?”

  Perplexed, Holo looked up to Lawrence for his decision.

  Lawrence briefly showed his palm to Holo and then turned to look at the group approaching them.

  He watched as they shrank back as they tried to make their way through the crowd, being yelled at by short-tempered artisans and greedy-looking merchants—if this was an act, then they were going quite overboard. They did not seem like bad people.

  At the very least, it did not seem like they were rushing them to kill a pagan god.

  “Maybe we should listen to them.”

  And with a sigh, Lawrence continued.

  “We should probably pick up what we can to see what that tomboy’s been up to.”

  The girl inherited Holo’s blood, after all…, Lawrence thought, and he left it as just a thought.

  Once some of the priests rushed over to the couple and saw Holo from the front, they immediately knew they had made a mistake.

  “Your…your hair…?”

  Holo’s hair was a flaxen color that matched the autumn forest, but the hair of their daughter, Myuri, was a beautiful silver from Lawrence’s strong blood. They could not be mistaken for each other.

  “Hmm? What might it be?”

  Still not quite grasping the situation, they decided to keep it quiet that Myuri was their daughter for now.

  When Holo responded with feigned ignorance, they hurriedly righted themselves.

  “O-our apologies. Might you perhaps be…?”

  They asked again like it was their last hope, and Holo tilted her head with a smile.

  As their shoulders dropped in disappointment, they still stared hard at Holo’s face as though they were not giving up.

  “She really looks just like her, though…”

  “Truly, yes, truly.”

  “Um, are you her sister?”

  Holo slowly shook her head—she was her mother, not her sister.

  On the other hand, Lawrence could see her tail happily flicking back and forth at what they said.

  She was several centuries old, and she never seemed to age at all when she was in her human form. Regardless, she did not appear particularly unhappy to be mistaken for someone the same age as her daughter. No matter how long she lived, a maiden was still a maiden.

  “I never thought there could be someone out there who resembled her so closely…”

  They were all sighing with admiration, so Lawrence cut in.

  “And what is happening with this Lady Myuri?”

  The original goal of Lawrence and Holo’s trip was to see their only daughter, Myuri.

  When Col, the young man who had worked at the house for years, set off, spurred on by his faith, Myuri had forced him to take her with him.

  The two were evidently causing great commotion throughout the world as they traveled, but their communications had stopped coming. Holo said there was nothing to worry about, but Lawrence felt uneasy, so they were going to check on Myuri’s safety.

  “Lady Myuri? Er…pardon us, but have you two recently come to the area?”

  “Yes. We usually run a humble inn secluded in the mountains…This is the first time in a while that we’ve come to town.”

  It was not a lie, and that was also clear from his dress. Because of how long they had lived in the mountains, both Holo and Lawrence wore thicker clothes that stood out from the crowd.

  “I see. Then, you might not know.” The one dressed in priest robes cleared his throat. “Are you aware that the world is in the midst of a great wave of people searching for true and proper faith?”

  “Errr…yes. Somewhat…”

  It was originally a big fight between a country called the Winfiel Kingdom and the pope, who was the head of the Church.

  For several long years, the Church had been collecting taxes under the pretext of punishing the pagans, but even after years passed since the conclusion of the war, they were still collecting the same taxes.

  The Winfiel Kingdom speaking up about how odd that was had been what started it all, leading to the masses crying out about their dissatisfaction with how the Church had accumulated excessive wealth and other degenerate behavior of many clergy.

  The flames of reform were lighting here and there, and the priests were in utter confusion.

  There had even been trouble in Nyohhira, where plenty of high-ranking clergy came as guests.

  “The Church in this town had also lost sight of the path of faith. It was Sir Col, the Twilight Cardinal, and Saint Myuri, who supports him, who showed us a new path.”

  Saint Myuri.

  Lawrence and Holo reflexively exchanged glances.

  The Myuri they knew well was a tomboy who would run around the wild mountains half-naked, catching frogs and snakes and whatnot with bare hands and a straight face, tie them up with string, then toss them in a lake to fish up enormous catfish.

  She was quite far from a saint.

  “And it is said that the first time Sir Col and Lady Myuri gained God’s blessing was here in this town. This is where it all began.”

  The middle-aged monk smiled proudly.

  Lawrence remembered that something similar had been written in their letter.

  “But we heard that the Twilight Cardinal and Lady Myuri had headed south. We were just thinking about how we might leave behind just a bit of the memory of the miracle here.”

  Holo reacted slightly when he said “leave behind just a bit of the memory.” It was these priests who ordinarily handled chronicling all the events of the world.

  “We then heard that a woman who looks exactly like Lady Myuri passed through the city wall, so we rushed over. We knew that this must be God’s will.”

  “Erm…uh…”

  Regardless of Lawrence and Holo exchanging glances, one of the priests signaled to one of the rather well-dressed merchants with a look. The merchant began to peel away the cloth that was wrapped around a large, square board that he cradled with care.

  “We, servants of the Church, ordered this and it finally came today. And when we think that a woman like you came to town on this day, there is no doubt that this has been God’s guidance.”

  Then, when the wrappings on the board fell away, Lawrence’s and Holo’s eyes widened.

  “What do you think? With this, anyone can tell at a glance what sort of miracle this town was blessed with!”

  What they showed them was a single painting.

  Because of the clouded sky and the rocky mountain setting, the whole tone of the painting was rather dark.

  However, rays of dawn peeked through the clouds in the distant background, and a young adult man was reaching out to it. A pious-looking girl quietly prayed beside him, and angels with trumpets in their hands were floating around them…It was a common composition, but the two in the picture were clearly Col and Myuri.

  “Well? As the place where it all started, we are even thinking about having a large ceiling mural based on this painting commissioned in the Atiph church.”

  The workmanship on the painting was eye-catching, so Lawrence wondered less about the craftsmanship and more about the price.

  Paints were so expensive that i
t was like cutting jewels open.

  When he shook his head in disbelief, the priests interpreted that gesture to mean that he was stirred on a spiritual level, and they looked at him proudly.

  “In about ten days, the Church will hold an unveiling of the painting and a gathering for prayer. Please, we would appreciate it if you came as well. You will surely attain wonderful spiritual fulfillment and find protection for your travels to come.”

  When that invitation came with a friendly smile, it was hard to say no.

  With no other choice, Lawrence gave his agreement with an absent response, and the priests gripped both his and Holo’s hands with great joy, then left with a spring in their steps.

  Lawrence, now left behind, was still not fully satisfied, but he suddenly noticed the rather serious look on Holo’s face.

  Holo was a survivor of the age of the forests and spirits, one called the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. Perhaps she found it unforgivable that a picture of her daughter, who inherited her blood, would be hung on the walls of a church that the humans so worshipped.

  “Dear,” Holo said, her voice low.

  “Holo, now just wait a minute—”

  This was also a trend of the times. He wanted to tell her to think of it as a painting of someone else who simply happened to look similar, but she cut him off.

  “Listen, dear.”

  “What?”

  “I want one, too!”

  Still looking in the direction the priests had gone off in, Holo grabbed Lawrence’s arm.

  Her wolf parts were in a dancing fit under her skirt and her hood.

  She looked at him and said, red eyes sparkling, “Have a painting of us done, too!”

  The wisewolf Holo never aged, and she would look like a girl for eternity. She was by nature incompatible with the flow of time in the human world, and she would inevitably be left behind, alone. That was why she could only record Lawrence’s words, movements, and memories in writing.

  And no matter how she pruned her words and wrote in detail, it would never match up against reality. It was hard for someone to recall an apple if they had never seen one before.

  But what about a painting?

  “Dear, I…”

  Holo stared at Lawrence, her lips pursed and eyes swimming.

  Though it was unbecoming of his age, Lawrence found himself flustered by the sight of Holo being so emotional, but he had much too much life experience to agree so readily.

  Before he started thinking about all the details, he responded as a former merchant.

  “Come on—don’t be so absurd.”

  “What?!”

  Holo seemed like she was going to bite him, but he of course had a response for her.

  “Do you know…how much a painting costs?”

  They were products for nobles, which was why that merchant was dressed so well.

  It was not something a mere bathhouse owner could get his hands on.

  “No, but it’s…”

  Holo’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she looked off in the direction the priests went. They could see the bell tower of Atiph’s cathedral beyond the dense cluster of buildings.

  The painting, likely ordered by people from the Church with the resources they had, was of excellent workmanship. It was like everything that was happening before them had been put down as is on canvas. No matter how hard Holo gripped her quill, it would never compare. That was how much power that image possessed.

  And because of that, nobles were keen to leave behind their likenesses in paintings, and the Church had pictures of scenes from the scripture.

  “No, no. Anything but that.”

  “…”

  Holo’s gaze still darted back and forth between the church and Lawrence, but she finally dropped her shoulders in disappointment. She often used her wiles to loosen his purse strings, but she knew how much was inside. She never asked for anything truly outrageous. She must have figured out the sheer cost of paintings from how Lawrence reacted.

  In the end, her perked ears and tail deflated beneath her hood and skirt.

  If she had simply seen a painting, there was no questioning that she would not have so desperately wanted it. She had seen her share of paintings while traveling, but she had never begged for one before.

  But now she had finally come across one that depicted her daughter, who had the exact same face as her, and Col, whom she had known since he was a child. Of course she would want one of herself, too.

  “Come on—don’t make that face.”

  Lawrence placed his hand on her shoulder, but she did not respond.

  He sighed, fished through his coin pouch, and pulled out another silver.

  “This can get you plenty of parchment, good food from town, and you can write about your banquet, too.”

  Even though her eyes would typically be shining at the opportunity, they remained downcast.

  And yet, she was still gripping the silver coin, so it did not seem like she was as dejected as she appeared.

  After a moment of thought, Lawrence spoke.

  “Or we could take the option of saving up for paint without wasting our money on things we don’t need. Luckily, we have a connection with an artist we met on our old travels.”

  “…That pig, no?”

  “Mr. Hugues, the sheep.”

  Lawrence was making more money than he used to, so the amount that came out of his wallet to please Holo had increased considerably to match. If he saved instead of letting it be squandered away, it would absolutely be a hefty sum.

  And even as she whimpered, she was still Holo the Wisewolf. She was likely thinking just that beneath her droopy wolf ears.

  In that case, the thing she had to fight against now was her desires.

  “…You…take it…,” Holo said, holding out to him the silver she gripped in her hand.

  Lawrence was surprised, but it was not because her hand was shaking.

  She had been so set on having her fried herring and cool ale, yet she chose frugality.

  Holo! Choosing frugality!

  Lawrence was touched by how Holo felt, but he had not forgotten his rational, merchantlike decision.

  “How about just one for today?”

  He took the two silvers from Holo but then gave one back to her.

  “A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step. We have to keep this up every day.”

  Her freshly fried herring and ale came back to her—she looked up to him with wide eyes.

  And then, as though she would never let go, she gripped the silver with both hands and held it to her chest.

  Lawrence could not help the smile on his face when he saw her like that, and she glared at him.

  “You have always been after a way to get rich quick and constantly run into trouble; I refuse to be laughed at by you!”

  “…Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

  “Hmph!”

  Holo turned away in a huff, but she did not seem to be that upset. They could forge a path that eventually led to a painting but also eat delicious food. Holo had once said that asceticism did not always bring about good things.

  That was because giving up on one thing for something else was not necessarily the correct choice.

  “All right, go shopping, then. I’ll get a boat ready for us at the Debau Company. You’re okay with meeting up there, right? Remember you can ask people for directions.”

  “I am Holo the Wisewolf. I am not a child.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Lawrence responded and then added, “and since you’re not a child, be sure to get my share of herring, too.”

  Holo then glared at him from the corner of her eye and said, “And that will be your payment.”

  “…But that was my…Fine, I get it.”

  When she bared her fangs and growled at him, he pulled back.

  “Make sure to pick an ale that’s cold.”

  “I know! You fool!”

  Holo leaped from the cart with that sharp parting rema
rk and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Sheesh, don’t make the name of the wisewolf cry like that.”

  Holo was cunning and sometimes even more childish than Myuri.

  “Well, I guess that’s why I never get tired of you,” he murmured in self-ridicule, and then he scratched his head. “But a painting…?”

  The reason he rejected Holo’s tearful pleas was not because he was being cheap. Paintings really did come with a terrifyingly high price. He flipped through his mental account book, but he still found it difficult to scrape together the funds for it. Commissioning an artisan who would paint aside, procuring the paints and whatnot alone would cost immense amounts of money.

  That was why something caught his attention when he heard that those priests had ordered that painting. Perhaps they truly did want to hang up a painting out of their faith, but the monetary power that allowed them to order it so easily and how they did not think twice of doing something else first with that money showed that even though they spoke of reform and correct faith, they were still steeped in the habits of the privileged.

  However, it was too late to excuse their lack of worldly sense.

  What he needed to be thinking about now was his own financial position.

  “If we don’t have it, we just have to get it.”

  He needed to obtain a considerable amount of money as efficiently as possible.

  Holo had curtly cut him off, but Lawrence still had his pride as a merchant.

  Plus, there was a commercial business in this town that he had always wondered about.

  Lawrence had the horse proceed at a slow canter to take him to the Debau Company.

  The Debau Company was a massive firm whose influence had spread throughout the entire northern region of the mainland. They had branches in each area, and they naturally had a splendid trading house here in Atiph.

  Over ten years ago, Lawrence and Holo had had a small hand in the big trouble the Debau Company was involved with, so they had a familiar relationship. Not only that, but one letter from Col and Myuri said that they had stayed at the Debau Company in Atiph, so this visit also served as a way to say thanks for taking care of them.

  The manager who ran the trading house of course greeted Lawrence with profuse hospitality, but it felt excessive to him. He could even say that there was a hint of fear behind the manager’s strained smile. And that was also the moment when he mentioned Col’s and Myuri’s names.