Spring Log IV

by Isuna Hasekura

“We’re always in need of more people this time of year. Have you handled wheat before, miss?”

  “Should you ask me to produce buds on any stalk of wheat, I would be able to do so straightaway, given that it is not cooked.”

  Holo the Wisewolf, who resided in wheat and controlled its harvest, really could do that, but the old man of reception of course only smiled.

  “How promising. Then I’ll have you start work right away. Oh, but roll up your sleeves, please. That is your uniform for this work. All the other short-sleeved girls will come to your aid if they see you wrapped up in trouble with any of the cargo handlers.”

  “Aye.”

  As Lawrence watched Holo gleefully roll up her sleeves, he felt the old man’s gaze on him.

  “And are you here to help with the cargo, sir? You seem like you can read and write, so maybe transcribing work. We have plenty of both.”

  Lawrence was flustered, having the conversation suddenly turn to him.

  “Er, I…”

  He also had plenty of work to do. He had to sell the sulfur powder that he had accepted in Nyohhira, and he had to obtain the small change that they lacked.

  “Hmm? Oh, pardon me, you’re not married, are you?”

  “Uh, well—”

  Just as Lawrence was about to answer, Holo butted in.

  “This fool spends his days drunk in the room whilst making only me work.”

  “Hey!”

  He had been writing letters and such to different companies, so he definitely was not just lazing about. He was sipping on mead as he worked, however, so he was afraid of the consequences if he said anything strongly in retort.

  “Oh-ho. Well, everyone has their tastes, so I won’t blame you for falling for a layabout, but it will be hard work for you.”

  “Aye. I am well aware.”

  When Holo and the old man with his missing tooth smiled at each other, Lawrence could do nothing but sigh.

  “Well, most of the mixing girls are like that. That goes without saying, though.”

  “Well, what can I say. The more of a handful they are, the more fun it is.”

  The old man made a vexed smile and then called on the next girl in line behind them.

  “And so I shall work admirably.”

  “Sure.”

  Lawrence responded with a sigh, and Holo gave a delightfully bright smile.

  Working as a mixing girl seemed to suit Holo’s personality well. Plenty of different kinds of wheat came from all over to the port, and just looking at it was enjoyable enough for her, so it was even more so when she was mixing and learning new things. Wheat husks stuck to her fluffy tail, Holo cheerfully wrote about her work as she spoke to Lawrence right up until she fell asleep.

  Then, on the night of the second day, she also started to talk about the other mixing girls she worked with. There was, of all people, a traveling dancer who had also worked in Nyohhira, and they were surprised to see each other. There still were no guests in Nyohhira at this time of year, so she was earning a little pocket change in the meanwhile.

  Of course, most of the women who worked as mixing girls were locals, and most of them were either poor or widows. Though it was a given, one could not make a whole lot of money mixing wheat.

  Men could not take on this job in order to guarantee work for women who had nowhere else to make money, and it was also so the women did not end up on the wrong path and in ruin.

  That being said, just as the old man at reception had mentioned, Holo said there were plenty who had ended up as mixing girls after finding themselves in ruin. Their romantic partners were good-for-nothings who had everything taken away from them by either alcohol or gambling.

  “’Tis much like me.” Holo had pretended to cry and then flapped her tail about happily. She was in the best mood whenever she got to tease Lawrence like that.

  It was the third day, when he saw her off as she energetically made her way to work at the port.

  Holo’s joke wasn’t entirely wrong, Lawrence thought to himself at the herring egg exchange.

  “What is the meaning of this? They’re closing the exchange?!”

  Merchants yelled and the building shook. It was only times like this that he was not given any food or drink and simply stared hard at the board showing the prices of herring eggs.

  Lawrence had come to the exchange because just after he had written a letter to a friendly company in the room, a member of the Debau Company came to give him the news.

  He had been told that there was a problem with the herring egg exchange.

  He rushed over after hearing that and found the whole place in confusion with talk over the exchange closing and everyone bellowing in rage at one another.

  “God forbids fortune-telling. And gambling is nothing more than fortune-telling.”

  Standing there in the exchange, where great sums of money and greed flew back and forth, were several people who seemed completely out of place.

  They were priests, clad in clerical robes.

  “What’s happening here is the exchange of herring eggs—not gambling!”

  Someone yelled and a whole group of merchants surrounded the priests and glowered at them. Yet—no, because of that, the five or so priests did not recoil, keeping their dignified stances, and then spoke.

  “How peculiar. You are conducting trade over herring eggs that do not yet exist here. That is no different from reading omens of the future.”

  The one who spoke with clear-cut logic was a young man who seemed to be the very picture of seriousness.

  Judging by his clothes, he seemed to be a head pastor. His position was rather high for how old he looked, so he was either extremely talented or a young person given a step up into the world by the Church to match the impending reforms.

  The ones around him, supporting him, were middle-aged priests.

  “I have also heard that one of you here has never taken part in an actual deal with herring eggs—is that correct?”

  When he said that, Lawrence could feel the merchants swallowing their words regretfully.

  No one in this building had ever seen herring eggs before. They had no interest in the real goods and had come from so far away only because the price fluctuated so violently, making it the perfect article to speculate on.

  They must have thought somewhere in those heads of theirs that they were doing something strange, so they understood that it looked even weirder from the outside.

  “But this system is so old and important because it supports the lives of the fishermen who live in the northern islands!” a clever one yelled, and everyone around him agreed.

  “And it’s normal for merchants to buy and sell products that don’t exist yet! We always forward-buy wheat, grapes, and other fruit! If you’re going to criticize us for never touching herring eggs in real life, then what do you think of mines?! Merchants who pay for zoning for mines will never actually pick up a pickax and go there themselves! Why do only we deserve to be called gamblers?!”

  A piercing applause rippled through the room.

  Despite the mass of enraged merchants who surrounded them, the expressions on the priests’ faces did not budge an inch. There was a rigidness that showed so much adherence to faith that just looking at them was refreshing.

  “It is a question of fairness.”

  The young man’s quiet voice had a strange force that made all the merchants recoil.

  His manner reminded Lawrence so much of Col, who had debated with theologists so many times in the Nyohhira bathhouse.

  “Some among you will earn an enormous fortune here in this exchange. But all those who catch the herring, process it, and transport it will never gain a matching amount of money without ever shedding a single drop of sweat. Then I cannot say anything but that there is something wrong with what is happening here.”

  Many of the merchants widened their eyes, spurred on by the impulse to jeer, but pulled their lips tightly shut, their faces red and their blue veins bulgi
ng from their temples.

  Lawrence understood this logically.

  The herring egg exchange was simply nothing more than gambling for the rich.

  As the merchants and the priests continued their silent staring contest, a calm voice interjected.

  “But it serves its uses to the town.”

  It was a skinny merchant with a beard that was half-white and half-black.

  He seemed to be upper-middle class, but his demeanor exuded a calm that had a strange power to it.

  “Because of the herring egg exchange, many merchants gather here in town, stay here, and pay whatever it takes to stay. And because of the herring egg exchange happening here, the fishermen of the north prioritize distributing their herring. If the herring egg exchange moved elsewhere, all the work surrounding herring would move there. They say that the very town of Atiph itself was an operation of herring egg exchanges at its foundation. This tradition supports the town.”

  Someone yelled, “Exactly!” and then came the cries of agreement and the eruption of applause.

  Even if they had come to right the wrongs of this place, they worked for the church in Atiph, maintaining buildings with the townspeople’s donations, making furniture, and hiring people. And in every town, either openly or secretly, the Church had a hand in trade. There was no way that a priest could harm the energy of a town. It was because of that cunningness that the Church had branches all over the world, more than any massive firm.

  The merchant who spoke calmly, as well as the others who heard him speak, were sure of that fact. Along that train of thought, perhaps the priests were going to stir things up by presenting the rules and principles of faith and then trying to take taxes or something from the exchange.

  When Lawrence heard nearby merchants whispering about that, he thought that was obvious.

  He had always been astonished by the priests’ business sense when he had been a traveling merchant.

  He thought it would be the same thing this time, but the priest said something unbelievable.

  “In order to conform with the spirit of God, we at the ecclesiastical chapter have decided to close this exchange to keep the town from becoming a bed of vice.”

  The whole room fell quiet, like water had been dumped on it, and nobody bellowed in anger this time.

  “We have recognized everything happening in this exchange as corrupt fortune-telling and gambling and moneylending that is considered sacrilegious under God.”

  The merchants’ mouths hung open.

  Were these priests for real? Were they really planning on unrooting this money tree and tossing it from the town? The Church, who was already dirtied with money? What for?

  As everyone expressed their voiceless confusion, the previous merchant opened his mouth. Even his voice had gotten stiffer, perhaps because of the shock.

  “…Many in town will oppose the closing of the herring egg exchange. Do you understand how much in earnings the town will lose because of this?”

  The young priest, his expression so serious that it was almost terrifying, spat, “The majority of the townsfolk are not the kind to gamble gold and silver with a straight face like you. They sweat, work reliably, and earn their coppers. This town is being supported by their honest labor. And many of the townsfolk see you as corrupt merchants.”

  The merchants got the message that he was being serious.

  No one spoke, so the young priest continued.

  “And is there anything more important in this world than correct faith?”

  To think a place so steeped in greed as this would end up having to hear a sermon.

  The merchants did not bother hiding their looks of disgust.

  But no one openly opposed the priest.

  That was because they were merchants, and they were especially sensitive to the trends of the times.

  “This town had also forgotten God’s teachings until not too long ago. But we have taken back the correct faith. We will repent. God will forgive even your sins.”

  The trend of society was the Church and the reform of faith.

  The townsfolk also agreed with that. That was why the feasts were all shut down.

  But even if this place was closed, a place to exchange herring eggs was still absolutely necessary. It would be a hassle to move it, but it did not mean they would no longer be able to trade forever.

  When the young priest saw the merchants flip the switches in their heads and start thinking about the next thing, he spoke.

  “Therefore, in accordance with God’s teachings, the ecclesiastical chapter has decided to confiscate all the dirty money that has been gambled with from this nest of vice.”

  “What?!”

  Everyone looked up, and there were a handful who stood from their chairs.

  No matter what they were told, even if their gambling place was shut down, there was one thing that merchants, even the ones who were well-behaved when their scales were balanced, would not tolerate.

  And that was the forceful seizure of their gold and silver.

  That was the only thing they would never stand for. That was the one territory where no one should tread.

  Here, especially, there were many who put great sums of money on the line. They were placing their fates on money that was greater than the sum of their parts.

  It was when the atmosphere was fully charged and in danger of erupting that something astonishing happened.

  “But God always forgives you. If you are to repent at the church, then you will be granted a pardon for your sins as well as the return of your purified money.”

  It was an old trick of the Church to offer a chance to repent after announcing a severe punishment. By flashing goodwill after a hefty price, they bought favors from others. They said they would return the money they took, yet there was no doubt that they would take part as prayer charges or something of the sort. But still, it was absolutely better than losing everything.

  He could almost hear the sounds of the abaci clicking in all the merchants’ heads.

  “The townspeople see your corrupt gambling as an act of turning away from God. Do you still plan on continuing your trade, even when the townsfolk of such a faithful village look at you with such contempt?”

  Now, as the search for correct faith was gaining momentum, merchants who used lavish amounts of money in fishy gambling such as this herring egg exchange had awful reputations.

  The Church listened to the people’s reports and saw this as a good opportunity.

  They could penalize the merchants, and they could also show the townsfolk how they worked.

  It seemed like the outcome was already decided.

  “…When will you give our money back?” someone asked.

  The young priest gave a kind smile, one he would show in morning prayer.

  It was, somehow, reminiscent of Col.

  “In just two days from now, we will hold a mass in celebration of the arrival of a painting of the Twilight Cardinal, who lit the fires of correct faith in this town and in this world, and of Saint Myuri, who supports him. Come to this event.”

  Most of the merchants seemed to accept that was what they had to do, but Lawrence was among some who looked upset.

  And he knew well why the merchants shared that expression with him.

  “Confess your sins to the church and pray, and God will offer protection for your trade.”

  The young priest smiled with benevolence and spoke not with any irony or sarcasm but as though he was truly praying for the merchants’ souls.

  But when Lawrence imagined that, he broke out in an unpleasant sweat. He was not of a heretical faith that worshipped toads or anything like that. He was fine with the idea of bowing his head at the Church to get his money back. Faithful or not, he was a former merchant who had done this many times before.

  But the problem was that he had many acquaintances in this town.

  The majority of the people with clouded looks were likely local merchants. Nobody woul
d be happy to be seen as an idiot by their trading partners.

  Also, Holo had also been invited to the unveiling of the painting. When he imagined himself staggering forth for a confession in order to get the money back from a failed transaction that he had kept secret from her, he felt dizzy. He had no idea how much she was going to taunt him and how annoyed she would be with him.

  Not only that, looking down at his foolish self would be none other than a painting of his daughter, Myuri, and the boy who may as well be his son, Col!

  Lawrence did not listen to any of the details afterward and staggered out of the herring egg exchange.

  He knew he had to do something about it, but he pretty much already had his answer. The money he had gambled was not enough to rock their foundation, but he could not have just thrown away several weeks’ worth of hard work for his own pride given how hard Holo was working.

  More importantly, just after he had decided he would give up on the gambling money and not go to the confession, he had no confidence in himself to hide it all from her. She had an unusually sharp intuition when it came to these things.

  So instead of having her sniff it out and expose him, he would rather tell her himself.

  That was all he could think of.

  But…Lawrence groaned in a murmur.

  Unlike gambling with dice, the herring egg exchange had a limit on its losses. If it went well, then he would strike it rich, but if it went badly, then the losses would not be too terrible.

  He had no idea there would be a pitfall like this one…He almost wanted to curse God himself, but he was a little late in remembering that these sorts of things came with trade.

  Lawrence stood frozen at the port, looking up to the sky, and sighed.

  He wanted to drink until he blacked out.

  Holo came home that day, wheat husks clinging to her hair and tail. Lawrence plucked the husks off her tail as she cheerfully told him about what had happened.

  She gleefully hummed the working tunes she learned and did not seem to notice the fool and how he was acting strange, but that could not be the case. She must have realized and was acting normal regardless.

  Unable to bear the pressure, Lawrence finally confessed when Holo turned her back to him, asking him to massage her shoulders.