Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Lawrence was about to quickly say that he wanted to do no such thing, but he noticed what Holo was trying to do and swallowed his words.
"You can safely turn your back to me. Right up until you get bitten."
Holo smiled, showing her fangs.
There probably wasn't a merchant alive who kept track of their debts and obligations as carefully as Holo did.
And Lawrence knew many merchants who had established households, and though they were tenacious men, they had fully lost their fight.
If he himself was happy being a thrifty, traveling merchant, then so be it.
But when he asked himself if he was indeed happy with that, Lawrence found he was not so worn-out that he could answer in the affirmative.
After he saw Holo to her homeland and returned to his travel and trading, it would not be so very long before he could raise the capital to open a shop.
But when compared with an inn and the management rights to go with it, that dream seemed desperately humble. With a building and those rights, plus assets to spend as he wished, just thinking about the possibilities was almost frightening.
Could he do it? Lawrence realized he wanted to try.
"Still, there were things about the deal they proposed that made me hesitate."
"Oh?" Holo looked up, interested.
Lawrence scratched his head and mustered his strength. "In order to raise the amount of money they need for the deal, they have to use you."
Holo's expression remained neutral, as if to say, "Go on."
"They're going to pass you off as a noble maiden and put you in pawn to a trading company."
Holo snorted as soon as she heard this. "Don't tell me that's what gave you such sweats last night."
"...You aren't angry?"
"I am only angry if you thought I would be."
He had heard that line before.
Yet Lawrence did not understand what she was getting at.
"You still do not understand?"
Lawrence felt like a young merchant's apprentice, who had been asked a simple question but was unable to answer it.
"You truly are just unbelievable...," said Holo. "Am I not your partner? Or am I just a maiden you fancy yourself protecting?"
When it was put to him that way, Lawrence finally understood.
"Do I not have some of my own virtues? If I can be of some use to your trade, then happily would I turn myself in!"
That was definitely a lie, but it was clear that as long as certain conditions were fulfilled, Holo trusted Lawrence enough to risk even a significant amount of danger.
If Lawrence had failed to recognize her trust in him...well, no wonder she was angry.
And those conditions were to trust her as a partner to grant his mildly unreasonable requests, to trust her as a wisewolf to keep him from falling into disaster, and finally, to respect her as a person of equal status.
As long as he didn't forget these things, Lawrence could ask her whatever he wished, and she wouldn't feel used.
"So I truly need your cooperation," he said.
"Hmph. I was a stand-in for you once before, but that was to thank you for being kind to me. This time, there's no thanking."
It wasn't as thanks nor was it a favor given or received.
Then what was it?
Not money nor obligation.
All of Lawrence's relationships so far had been zero-sum; the amount given equaled the amount taken. If something was lent, he expected it returned, and if he was the borrower, he had to pay the debt. Even "friendly" relationships were changed by credit into ones of transaction.
Holo was different, an entirely new kind of relationship.
But just as Lawrence realized what the most suitable term for it was, Holo gave him a look that said unmistakably, "Stop what you're saying."
"So, is there aught else you're worried about?" she asked.
"Of course. I'm worried it may be a trap."
Holo giggled. "If your opponent has a scheme, counter it. The bigger their scheme..."
She had said the same thing just after they'd met and a shady young merchant had tried to bring Lawrence in on a deal.
"The bigger the scheme, the bigger the profit when you upset it."

Output:
Lawrence laughed—they had had this conversation before.
Time did pass, and people changed.
He didn't know whether that was good or bad.
But he did know that having a partner to share this with made him happy.
"So, then," said Holo.
"Yes?"
And in any case, her name was deeply engraved on his soul, it seemed.
Her thoughts were entirely clear to him.
Lawrence smiled. "Breakfast, right?"
The first thing they needed to do was lay the groundwork.
If they could ascertain whether Eve was truly a statue merchant, whether her source of payment was really the Church, and whether she had really quarreled with them, this would tell them a lot.
Holo stayed in their room, saying she was going to read the books they had borrowed from Rigolo.
When she told him to go run about the city as he wished, Lawrence found himself wanting to say thanks. That seemed rather awkward, though, so instead he told her, "Enjoy your books, and don't cry too much."
Lying on her stomach, flipping through the pages, her only reply was to swish her tail dismissively. Her ears flicked minutely, probably because he had said something she didn't want to hear.
The mood downstairs was a bit strange given the previous night, but Lawrence gave Arold a quick greeting before heading out.
As long as he had the brisk morning air, the energetic town, and the warm sunlight, things could not be so very bad.
Lawrence started walking immediately.
He had no acquaintances in this city, and his only source of information was the barmaid of the Beast and Fish Tail. As this time of day was particularly busy for wine sellers and butchers who needed to buy up their supplies, though, Lawrence decided to head first to the church.
The town was of moderate size and the streets were complicated, so Lawrence had not yet seen the church, but he did have the impression that its standing within the town was reasonably strong.
By the time one got into the vicinity of Lenos, pagans were hardly rare, and it was common enough to have one as a neighbor.
One would think this would imply a lessening of power on the part of the Church, but on the contrary, it only drove the true believers' morale higher.
They believed that hardships were trials sent by God, so it made a certain amount of sense. Arold's strong desire to go on a pilgrimage to the south was probably rather common here.
The most fervent believers could always be found where the Church's power was weakest.
Perhaps this was because without being prepared to endure, the flame of their faith would surely be extinguished by the storms of paganism—or perhaps those storms were like a wind to a bonfire.
On that count, there was no reason to doubt Eve's importation of stone statues. There was surely a demand for them.
But that didn't mean there was no call for doubt at all.
Lawrence bought some rye bread from a baker and asked directions, and when he saw the church, he immediately gave voice to his impressions.
"It's like a vault."
It was less a church and more a stone-carved temple.
The design was familiar, but the atmosphere itself was different. He passed through the doors and into the church where a handful of people were performing their morning worship.
One could tell if a church had money by looking at its entrance. Nobody appreciated a church interior that lacked a sense of age, of ancientness, but the entrance was different. As the entrance was worn down and warped by people walking through it, a church with money could pay for appropriate maintenance. It was purely a display of wealth.
And this particular church's entrance, despite all the people that passed through it, was a series of beautifully carved stone steps.
It was clear that the church of Lenos had money.
So—what about their expenditures?
Lawrence cast his eye about, looking for a likely spot.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Lawrence laughed—they had had this conversation before.
Time did pass, and people changed.
He didn't know whether that was good or bad.
But he did know that having a partner to share this with made him happy.
"So, then," said Holo.
"Yes?"
And in any case, her name was deeply engraved on his soul, it seemed.
Her thoughts were entirely clear to him.
Lawrence smiled. "Breakfast, right?"
The first thing they needed to do was lay the groundwork.
If they could ascertain whether Eve was truly a statue merchant, whether her source of payment was really the Church, and whether she had really quarreled with them, this would tell them a lot.
Holo stayed in their room, saying she was going to read the books they had borrowed from Rigolo.
When she told him to go run about the city as he wished, Lawrence found himself wanting to say thanks. That seemed rather awkward, though, so instead he told her, "Enjoy your books, and don't cry too much."
Lying on her stomach, flipping through the pages, her only reply was to swish her tail dismissively. Her ears flicked minutely, probably because he had said something she didn't want to hear.
The mood downstairs was a bit strange given the previous night, but Lawrence gave Arold a quick greeting before heading out.
As long as he had the brisk morning air, the energetic town, and the warm sunlight, things could not be so very bad.
Lawrence started walking immediately.
He had no acquaintances in this city, and his only source of information was the barmaid of the Beast and Fish Tail. As this time of day was particularly busy for wine sellers and butchers who needed to buy up their supplies, though, Lawrence decided to head first to the church.
The town was of moderate size and the streets were complicated, so Lawrence had not yet seen the church, but he did have the impression that its standing within the town was reasonably strong.
By the time one got into the vicinity of Lenos, pagans were hardly rare, and it was common enough to have one as a neighbor.
One would think this would imply a lessening of power on the part of the Church, but on the contrary, it only drove the true believers' morale higher.
They believed that hardships were trials sent by God, so it made a certain amount of sense. Arold's strong desire to go on a pilgrimage to the south was probably rather common here.
The most fervent believers could always be found where the Church's power was weakest.
Perhaps this was because without being prepared to endure, the flame of their faith would surely be extinguished by the storms of paganism—or perhaps those storms were like a wind to a bonfire.
On that count, there was no reason to doubt Eve's importation of stone statues. There was surely a demand for them.
But that didn't mean there was no call for doubt at all.
Lawrence bought some rye bread from a baker and asked directions, and when he saw the church, he immediately gave voice to his impressions.
"It's like a vault."
It was less a church and more a stone-carved temple.
The design was familiar, but the atmosphere itself was different. He passed through the doors and into the church where a handful of people were performing their morning worship.
One could tell if a church had money by looking at its entrance. Nobody appreciated a church interior that lacked a sense of age, of ancientness, but the entrance was different. As the entrance was worn down and warped by people walking through it, a church with money could pay for appropriate maintenance. It was purely a display of wealth.
And this particular church's entrance, despite all the people that passed through it, was a series of beautifully carved stone steps.
It was clear that the church of Lenos had money.
So—what about their expenditures?
Lawrence cast his eye about, looking for a likely spot.

Output:
As Lawrence walked down the path, none of the people so much as looked up at him.
It would take a keen incantation indeed to rouse them from their sleep.
"The blessings of God be upon you," said Lawrence to one of them.
It had been hard to tell whether the man was dead or just sleeping, but his eyes now snapped open. "Hnn!...Oh. Not giving alms, are you?" he said, his voice a mixture of anticipation and disappointment.
Lawrence looked the man over from head to toe—he certainly didn't seem to be a man of the Church.
Offering some of the still-warm rye bread to the man, Lawrence gave his best merchant's smile. "No alms, I'm afraid. I'd like to ask you some questions."
The man's face flushed at the sight of the bread. He didn't seem to be one to quibble. "Hell, ask anything you like."
He devoured the rye bread with a speed that surprised even Lawrence, who had grown used to Holo's gluttonous eating, then grinned a toothy grin.
"It's about the church," Lawrence said.
"What do you want to know? How many mistresses the priest has? Who the father of the child that nun gave birth to a while back was?"
"Those are fascinating, but no. I was wondering how much bread this church bakes."
Obviously the church was not a bakery. He was asking instead how much bread the church distributed to the needy. There were churches and abbeys whose finances declined to the point where they did not do such work, but most of them did in proportion to the state of their coffers.
And as a result, the recipients of that charity naturally knew the state of the church's kitchen.
"Heh, it's been some time since I've been asked that."
"Oh?"
"Used to be, merchants like you would come to ask all the time. You want to know how the church here fares, yes? Seems it's not bringing people in the way it used to. Guess God needs more propaganda."
There was a saying in business: "Look at the feet." It meant looking at your opponent to understand not just his weaknesses, but his entire situation.
And on that count, who better to look at the feet than the beggars who spent their days lying in the street, looking at the feet of all who passed by?
Occasionally, such beggars would be expelled en masse from a town because those in power were afraid of how much knowledge the beggars had of their coffers.
"I've been to many towns in this area, but the church here is the best. They may not give out huge amounts of bread or beans, but the quality is always good. Although..."
"Although?" repeated Lawrence back to the man.
The man closed his mouth and scratched his cheek.
There was a hierarchy among beggars. Those closer to the church entrance, where it was easier to solicit, had more complete information.
Lawrence took two cheap copper coins out and handed them over to the beggar.
The beggar chuckled. "Although—the bishop scatters more money about the town than he does bread among the beggars."
"How can you tell?"
"Oh, I can tell. When a splendid carriage that has its own escort to drive away beggars like me drives up, I can tell. And it's plain as day what kind of dinner was served from the garbage they throw away. And looking at how many cocky men about town come to that dinner, I can tell how important the guest was. Impressive, is it not?"
People in power did not hold grand dinners without motivation to do so. Since they evidently had a business based on buying statues from Eve, then consecrating and selling them for far more money, such dinners had to be political in nature—nothing less than an investment.
So while it still wasn't clear what the Church was trying to achieve, given this information, Lawrence now saw that it wielded power within the Council of Fifty.
And yet, thought Lawrence to himself as he regarded the beggar.
When a town was invaded in times of war, he could see why it was always the beggars who were first put to the spear.
Each and every one of them was like a spy.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
As Lawrence walked down the path, none of the people so much as looked up at him.
It would take a keen incantation indeed to rouse them from their sleep.
"The blessings of God be upon you," said Lawrence to one of them.
It had been hard to tell whether the man was dead or just sleeping, but his eyes now snapped open. "Hnn!...Oh. Not giving alms, are you?" he said, his voice a mixture of anticipation and disappointment.
Lawrence looked the man over from head to toe—he certainly didn't seem to be a man of the Church.
Offering some of the still-warm rye bread to the man, Lawrence gave his best merchant's smile. "No alms, I'm afraid. I'd like to ask you some questions."
The man's face flushed at the sight of the bread. He didn't seem to be one to quibble. "Hell, ask anything you like."
He devoured the rye bread with a speed that surprised even Lawrence, who had grown used to Holo's gluttonous eating, then grinned a toothy grin.
"It's about the church," Lawrence said.
"What do you want to know? How many mistresses the priest has? Who the father of the child that nun gave birth to a while back was?"
"Those are fascinating, but no. I was wondering how much bread this church bakes."
Obviously the church was not a bakery. He was asking instead how much bread the church distributed to the needy. There were churches and abbeys whose finances declined to the point where they did not do such work, but most of them did in proportion to the state of their coffers.
And as a result, the recipients of that charity naturally knew the state of the church's kitchen.
"Heh, it's been some time since I've been asked that."
"Oh?"
"Used to be, merchants like you would come to ask all the time. You want to know how the church here fares, yes? Seems it's not bringing people in the way it used to. Guess God needs more propaganda."
There was a saying in business: "Look at the feet." It meant looking at your opponent to understand not just his weaknesses, but his entire situation.
And on that count, who better to look at the feet than the beggars who spent their days lying in the street, looking at the feet of all who passed by?
Occasionally, such beggars would be expelled en masse from a town because those in power were afraid of how much knowledge the beggars had of their coffers.
"I've been to many towns in this area, but the church here is the best. They may not give out huge amounts of bread or beans, but the quality is always good. Although..."
"Although?" repeated Lawrence back to the man.
The man closed his mouth and scratched his cheek.
There was a hierarchy among beggars. Those closer to the church entrance, where it was easier to solicit, had more complete information.
Lawrence took two cheap copper coins out and handed them over to the beggar.
The beggar chuckled. "Although—the bishop scatters more money about the town than he does bread among the beggars."
"How can you tell?"
"Oh, I can tell. When a splendid carriage that has its own escort to drive away beggars like me drives up, I can tell. And it's plain as day what kind of dinner was served from the garbage they throw away. And looking at how many cocky men about town come to that dinner, I can tell how important the guest was. Impressive, is it not?"
People in power did not hold grand dinners without motivation to do so. Since they evidently had a business based on buying statues from Eve, then consecrating and selling them for far more money, such dinners had to be political in nature—nothing less than an investment.
So while it still wasn't clear what the Church was trying to achieve, given this information, Lawrence now saw that it wielded power within the Council of Fifty.
And yet, thought Lawrence to himself as he regarded the beggar.
When a town was invaded in times of war, he could see why it was always the beggars who were first put to the spear.
Each and every one of them was like a spy.

Output:
The man shook his head. "You don't get it, do you, pal? God said, 'Blessed are the poor,' didn't he? Do you get a warm, happy feeling in your gut from just a piece of crusty black bread and two copper coins?" The man stared hard at Lawrence. "I know I do."
Not all wise men wrapped themselves in leather coats.
Lawrence had the feeling that this man was a better embodiment of God's teaching than anybody within the church next to which he begged.
"Anyway, so I don't know what it is you're planning," continued the beggar, "but if you try to deal with this church, they'll just hang you out to dry. I only know one merchant who worked with them for a long time, and even he wound up screaming at them in that hoarse voice of his."
Lawrence knew immediately who the beggar was talking about.
"The statue dealer?" he asked.
"Statues? Ah yeah, I guess he did haul some of those. He a friend of yours?"
"Sort of. So...did he deal in anything else?" There hadn't been any talk of side businesses, but merchants frequently packed smaller items in between their main cargo.
That was Lawrence's thinking, but the beggar's answer made his eyes widen in surprise.
"I thought for certain he was a salt merchant. Wasn't he?"
If Lawrence had been asked to name three particularly heavy goods to haul, he would have been able to do it instantly—stones for masonry, alum for dying clothes, and salt as a food preservative.
All of them were ill suited to running as a small sideline.
Excited, Lawrence pressed the man. "Why would you think that?"
"Whoa, easy there, friend. Is he some kind of rival? I don't want to get in trouble just because you asked me some questions," said the man, pulling away and looking at Lawrence dubiously.
"Sorry," said Lawrence, returning to himself. "He's not a rival. He's someone I'm going into business with myself."
"...Ah, so you're looking for scraps from his background, eh? Well, you look like a good sort. I suppose you wouldn't tell an out-and-out lie. Sure, I'll tell you."
Lawrence, like any merchant, wasn't sure whether he was happy about being told he looked like a good person.
On one hand, it was good that people would let their guard down around him, but it might also keep them from taking him seriously.
The beggar cackled. "Oh, I only meant that there are plenty of merchants who try to use us, but most of them think they're better than us. And even fewer spare me any admiration for my words. That's all I meant."
Lawrence was so flustered by this that he almost told the beggar that flattery wouldn't gain him any more coin.
"Ah, but anyway, it's a simple thing," said the beggar. "Sometimes when that merchant would visit the church, salt would fall from between the cracks of his cargo. I would have been able to tell from the smell if it had been salt used for packing fish or meat—it would've made a fine addition to some liquor. But as salt goes, it tasted poorly. That's why I made him as a salt merchant."
The farther inland one moved, the more precious salt became.
Eve had said she brought statues in from a town that faced the western sea.
It would be an easy matter to pack sea salt in the same boxes that carried the statues.
Or she might have been smuggling it in.
If she had been trading with the church for a long time, they might have eased up their inspections of her cargo as a perk.
"So that's how it is. Anything else you want to know?"
It wasn't just that the beggar had given him useful information; his prone, dirty form had a strange dignity to it.
But Lawrence had heard everything he needed to hear. "You've given me the secret to living a happy life. That's more than enough."
It seemed there really were gold nuggets to be found by the roadside.
It appeared that Eve had indeed conducted deals with the Church.
And Lawrence now knew that the bishop was throwing money around the town in order to accomplish some kind of political goal.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
The man shook his head. "You don't get it, do you, pal? God said, 'Blessed are the poor,' didn't he? Do you get a warm, happy feeling in your gut from just a piece of crusty black bread and two copper coins?" The man stared hard at Lawrence. "I know I do."
Not all wise men wrapped themselves in leather coats.
Lawrence had the feeling that this man was a better embodiment of God's teaching than anybody within the church next to which he begged.
"Anyway, so I don't know what it is you're planning," continued the beggar, "but if you try to deal with this church, they'll just hang you out to dry. I only know one merchant who worked with them for a long time, and even he wound up screaming at them in that hoarse voice of his."
Lawrence knew immediately who the beggar was talking about.
"The statue dealer?" he asked.
"Statues? Ah yeah, I guess he did haul some of those. He a friend of yours?"
"Sort of. So...did he deal in anything else?" There hadn't been any talk of side businesses, but merchants frequently packed smaller items in between their main cargo.
That was Lawrence's thinking, but the beggar's answer made his eyes widen in surprise.
"I thought for certain he was a salt merchant. Wasn't he?"
If Lawrence had been asked to name three particularly heavy goods to haul, he would have been able to do it instantly—stones for masonry, alum for dying clothes, and salt as a food preservative.
All of them were ill suited to running as a small sideline.
Excited, Lawrence pressed the man. "Why would you think that?"
"Whoa, easy there, friend. Is he some kind of rival? I don't want to get in trouble just because you asked me some questions," said the man, pulling away and looking at Lawrence dubiously.
"Sorry," said Lawrence, returning to himself. "He's not a rival. He's someone I'm going into business with myself."
"...Ah, so you're looking for scraps from his background, eh? Well, you look like a good sort. I suppose you wouldn't tell an out-and-out lie. Sure, I'll tell you."
Lawrence, like any merchant, wasn't sure whether he was happy about being told he looked like a good person.
On one hand, it was good that people would let their guard down around him, but it might also keep them from taking him seriously.
The beggar cackled. "Oh, I only meant that there are plenty of merchants who try to use us, but most of them think they're better than us. And even fewer spare me any admiration for my words. That's all I meant."
Lawrence was so flustered by this that he almost told the beggar that flattery wouldn't gain him any more coin.
"Ah, but anyway, it's a simple thing," said the beggar. "Sometimes when that merchant would visit the church, salt would fall from between the cracks of his cargo. I would have been able to tell from the smell if it had been salt used for packing fish or meat—it would've made a fine addition to some liquor. But as salt goes, it tasted poorly. That's why I made him as a salt merchant."
The farther inland one moved, the more precious salt became.
Eve had said she brought statues in from a town that faced the western sea.
It would be an easy matter to pack sea salt in the same boxes that carried the statues.
Or she might have been smuggling it in.
If she had been trading with the church for a long time, they might have eased up their inspections of her cargo as a perk.
"So that's how it is. Anything else you want to know?"
It wasn't just that the beggar had given him useful information; his prone, dirty form had a strange dignity to it.
But Lawrence had heard everything he needed to hear. "You've given me the secret to living a happy life. That's more than enough."
It seemed there really were gold nuggets to be found by the roadside.
It appeared that Eve had indeed conducted deals with the Church.
And Lawrence now knew that the bishop was throwing money around the town in order to accomplish some kind of political goal.

Output:
But if that was so, something was strange.
The statue transactions were a stable source of income—would they be ruined with but a single stumble? Did the Church simply not take Eve seriously, or had they created a distribution system that let them procure the statues themselves?
Eve had simply decided to leave the town for good, but she seemed to not have fully abandoned the possibility that the deal could be restarted the following year, which struck Lawrence as awfully gracious indeed.
According to the beggar, Eve had quarreled with the church so fiercely that her shouting voice could be heard outside the building. Yet none of this was of enough importance to justify parting with such anger. Sometimes doing business meant winding up with worthless stock or having business partners turn their backs on you. It was hardly rare.
Naturally such things were upsetting, and the deeper your trust, the stronger the feeling of betrayal. But Eve had not struck Lawrence as so young a merchant that she would think shouting would change the situation.
Did the Church know that Eve was nobility, albeit fallen nobility?
She had said that there was a trading firm in the town that knew about her noble background.
The Church had information-gathering prowess that would put any trading firm to shame—it had to know.
It was incomprehensible that the same bishop who invited moneyed nobility from all over to lavish dinners would discard Eve, who was herself nobility. She could be useful for any number of things.
Or had her usefulness disappeared?
Was that why she offered to bring Lawrence, a merchant she had just happened to meet, in on a deal worth thousands of silver pieces?
Was it out of desperation? Or was she trying to recover? It couldn't have been just a passing tip. The amount was far too high.
Was he overthinking things to wonder if she had a motive beyond simple profit?
But even if she was trying to lure Lawrence into a trap, there were only a few choices.
She could run off with the goods once Lawrence had fronted the money or kill Lawrence midway through the export or possibly make a secret deal with the trade firm to sell Holo off, then pretend nothing had happened.
Yet none of these seemed likely.
The deal Eve had proposed was entirely legal (save for her passing off Holo as a relative of her noble house), so the contents of it would be declared before a public witness and Lawrence would have a copy. If he was to send this to a trading firm in some other town, his opponent would be unable to make any careless moves. As long as a third party had a careful record of all of Lawrence's actions, none of these plans would be easy for her to put into action.
Moreover, Lawrence didn't expect that Eve took him so lightly as to think such simple schemes would work against him.
Perhaps she really wasn't planning anything.
All deals lay somewhere in the gap between trust and suspicion.
He was far from trusting her, but he would only be able to investigate for so long before the deal became impossible.
He would have to decide.
Lawrence mulled it over as he made for the Beast and Fish Tail.
If the Council of Fifty had reached a decision, which seemed to be an open secret now, he expected there would be new information circulating.
When he reached the tavern, it was completely empty; not a single person was to be found inside. Walking down the alley that ran to the rear of the building, he found the barmaid washing a large basin that looked as though it was used to hold wine.
"Goodness, you're here early," she said.
"I must assume it's the cold wash water making you pull such a face."
"Oh, aye, and it's on that account I may be a bit cold myself," she said with a smile, putting down the balled-up length of hempen cloth she was using to wash the basin. "How many merchants do you suppose have come to speak with me?"
All of them desperate for profit, no doubt.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
But if that was so, something was strange.
The statue transactions were a stable source of income—would they be ruined with but a single stumble? Did the Church simply not take Eve seriously, or had they created a distribution system that let them procure the statues themselves?
Eve had simply decided to leave the town for good, but she seemed to not have fully abandoned the possibility that the deal could be restarted the following year, which struck Lawrence as awfully gracious indeed.
According to the beggar, Eve had quarreled with the church so fiercely that her shouting voice could be heard outside the building. Yet none of this was of enough importance to justify parting with such anger. Sometimes doing business meant winding up with worthless stock or having business partners turn their backs on you. It was hardly rare.
Naturally such things were upsetting, and the deeper your trust, the stronger the feeling of betrayal. But Eve had not struck Lawrence as so young a merchant that she would think shouting would change the situation.
Did the Church know that Eve was nobility, albeit fallen nobility?
She had said that there was a trading firm in the town that knew about her noble background.
The Church had information-gathering prowess that would put any trading firm to shame—it had to know.
It was incomprehensible that the same bishop who invited moneyed nobility from all over to lavish dinners would discard Eve, who was herself nobility. She could be useful for any number of things.
Or had her usefulness disappeared?
Was that why she offered to bring Lawrence, a merchant she had just happened to meet, in on a deal worth thousands of silver pieces?
Was it out of desperation? Or was she trying to recover? It couldn't have been just a passing tip. The amount was far too high.
Was he overthinking things to wonder if she had a motive beyond simple profit?
But even if she was trying to lure Lawrence into a trap, there were only a few choices.
She could run off with the goods once Lawrence had fronted the money or kill Lawrence midway through the export or possibly make a secret deal with the trade firm to sell Holo off, then pretend nothing had happened.
Yet none of these seemed likely.
The deal Eve had proposed was entirely legal (save for her passing off Holo as a relative of her noble house), so the contents of it would be declared before a public witness and Lawrence would have a copy. If he was to send this to a trading firm in some other town, his opponent would be unable to make any careless moves. As long as a third party had a careful record of all of Lawrence's actions, none of these plans would be easy for her to put into action.
Moreover, Lawrence didn't expect that Eve took him so lightly as to think such simple schemes would work against him.
Perhaps she really wasn't planning anything.
All deals lay somewhere in the gap between trust and suspicion.
He was far from trusting her, but he would only be able to investigate for so long before the deal became impossible.
He would have to decide.
Lawrence mulled it over as he made for the Beast and Fish Tail.
If the Council of Fifty had reached a decision, which seemed to be an open secret now, he expected there would be new information circulating.
When he reached the tavern, it was completely empty; not a single person was to be found inside. Walking down the alley that ran to the rear of the building, he found the barmaid washing a large basin that looked as though it was used to hold wine.
"Goodness, you're here early," she said.
"I must assume it's the cold wash water making you pull such a face."
"Oh, aye, and it's on that account I may be a bit cold myself," she said with a smile, putting down the balled-up length of hempen cloth she was using to wash the basin. "How many merchants do you suppose have come to speak with me?"
All of them desperate for profit, no doubt.

Output:
"Can you not imagine that your beauty was their aim?" asked Lawrence.
The barmaid giggled. "Smiles are gold, words silver. How many boorish louts do you suppose offered copper coins?"
It couldn't have been too many yet more than a few, no doubt.
"I'll admit I've come to ask some rather boorish things myself."
"I've no doubt of that. Owe a merchant a favor, and he'll always come to collect. So, what is it you want to know?" Apparently she had put down the cloth not to talk to Lawrence, but rather to empty the basin of its water. She tilted the basin, which was big enough for Holo to curl up inside when lain flat, and poured its contents onto the ground.
"It's about the Council of Fifty," said Lawrence plainly. If he'd delivered a pick-up line so flatly, he could have gotten his tail kicked and had no call to complain.
But the barmaid only shrugged and smiled. "I hear they've come to a conclusion. They say they're going to allow fur sales but not on credit."
It was exactly what Eve had said.
Just as Lawrence considered how to value this information, the girl swept the grape-tailings into a corner with her foot and continued. "Customers were asking me about it all last night. Honestly, one or two of them could've at least brought me a love letter."
Lawrence considered this new datum while skillfully replying, "A contract is a merchant's only love letter."
"Ah, 'tis true that loving and being loved is not enough to fill one's belly," said the barmaid. "Hmm," she added uncertainly, then smiled grandly, as if to add, "Though for a woman, that's not really true."
Lawrence smiled ruefully, but he knew that if he was to go along with her game, he would be no better than her drunken patrons. "Though for my part all I need is but a glance, and I'm satisfied. I feel as though I should thank you for the meal!"
The barmaid was stunned for a moment, then smacked Lawrence playfully with her hand, which was red from her kitchen chores. "Sir, you are unfair! That was what I was going to say!"
Lawrence laughed, but his mind was keen and focused.
It struck him as strange that since last night so many merchants had come here to confirm their information with this girl. Assuming the information had leaked to them via a colleague, there shouldn't be any need to go talk to some tavern's barmaid to confirm the story.
And from whose mouth was she hearing the latest news anyway?
Perhaps most of her knowledge could be inferred from the information that merchants inadvertently let slip as they asked her questions.
"Were most of the people that came to ask you questions frequent customers?"
"Huh? Frequent?" The girl wrung water out of the washcloth. Lawrence wondered if her hands hurt, given the cold water and chilly weather. She frowned and exhaled, her breath visible. "I guess I'd say it's been about half regulars and half not. Only..."
"...Only?"
The girl looked around furtively, then lowered her voice and continued. "Only a lot of the new customers have been rather careless. You're the only one among them who's asked proper questions."
"Oh, come now," replied Lawrence with his merchant's smile.
"I won't tell them a thing when they're like that. Foreign merchants may have sharp ears, but they've also loose tongues. They'll come in and just blurt out, 'So I hear fur buying is going to be cash only, is that true?' It's absurd!"
"They're failures as merchants," Lawrence said with a chuckle, but internally he was far from calm.
If all merchants were so foolish, business would be easier than it was.
And it certainly wasn't the case that only foreign merchants made such mistakes. Of course, the citizens of a town tended to believe that the people who called it home were the smartest and best, but that was nothing more than a widely held illusion.
So what was their goal?


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Can you not imagine that your beauty was their aim?" asked Lawrence.
The barmaid giggled. "Smiles are gold, words silver. How many boorish louts do you suppose offered copper coins?"
It couldn't have been too many yet more than a few, no doubt.
"I'll admit I've come to ask some rather boorish things myself."
"I've no doubt of that. Owe a merchant a favor, and he'll always come to collect. So, what is it you want to know?" Apparently she had put down the cloth not to talk to Lawrence, but rather to empty the basin of its water. She tilted the basin, which was big enough for Holo to curl up inside when lain flat, and poured its contents onto the ground.
"It's about the Council of Fifty," said Lawrence plainly. If he'd delivered a pick-up line so flatly, he could have gotten his tail kicked and had no call to complain.
But the barmaid only shrugged and smiled. "I hear they've come to a conclusion. They say they're going to allow fur sales but not on credit."
It was exactly what Eve had said.
Just as Lawrence considered how to value this information, the girl swept the grape-tailings into a corner with her foot and continued. "Customers were asking me about it all last night. Honestly, one or two of them could've at least brought me a love letter."
Lawrence considered this new datum while skillfully replying, "A contract is a merchant's only love letter."
"Ah, 'tis true that loving and being loved is not enough to fill one's belly," said the barmaid. "Hmm," she added uncertainly, then smiled grandly, as if to add, "Though for a woman, that's not really true."
Lawrence smiled ruefully, but he knew that if he was to go along with her game, he would be no better than her drunken patrons. "Though for my part all I need is but a glance, and I'm satisfied. I feel as though I should thank you for the meal!"
The barmaid was stunned for a moment, then smacked Lawrence playfully with her hand, which was red from her kitchen chores. "Sir, you are unfair! That was what I was going to say!"
Lawrence laughed, but his mind was keen and focused.
It struck him as strange that since last night so many merchants had come here to confirm their information with this girl. Assuming the information had leaked to them via a colleague, there shouldn't be any need to go talk to some tavern's barmaid to confirm the story.
And from whose mouth was she hearing the latest news anyway?
Perhaps most of her knowledge could be inferred from the information that merchants inadvertently let slip as they asked her questions.
"Were most of the people that came to ask you questions frequent customers?"
"Huh? Frequent?" The girl wrung water out of the washcloth. Lawrence wondered if her hands hurt, given the cold water and chilly weather. She frowned and exhaled, her breath visible. "I guess I'd say it's been about half regulars and half not. Only..."
"...Only?"
The girl looked around furtively, then lowered her voice and continued. "Only a lot of the new customers have been rather careless. You're the only one among them who's asked proper questions."
"Oh, come now," replied Lawrence with his merchant's smile.
"I won't tell them a thing when they're like that. Foreign merchants may have sharp ears, but they've also loose tongues. They'll come in and just blurt out, 'So I hear fur buying is going to be cash only, is that true?' It's absurd!"
"They're failures as merchants," Lawrence said with a chuckle, but internally he was far from calm.
If all merchants were so foolish, business would be easier than it was.
And it certainly wasn't the case that only foreign merchants made such mistakes. Of course, the citizens of a town tended to believe that the people who called it home were the smartest and best, but that was nothing more than a widely held illusion.
So what was their goal?

Output:
But the foreign merchants had nothing to gain from spreading fake information, so whatever their goal, the meeting result that Eve had spoken of was probably true.
If the group of merchants outside the town were all acting out of their own personal self-interests, then they might be trying to create confusion in order to lure other parties away from the truth. In that case, though, Lawrence would expect there to be more than one story about the council's decision circulating.
Likewise, the town insiders and those close to them would know the truth firsthand, so it seemed unlikely that the foreign merchants were trying to create a disturbance within the town.
Eve had said she'd heard the news from sources within the Church.
Whether or not that was true, Lawrence might learn something here that would help him divine something from it.
"By the way," he started.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to ask about the church here—," said Lawrence.
"Uh, please lower your voice," interrupted the girl, her face suddenly stiff, grabbing his arm and pushing him through the barely opened back door of the tavern.
She then peered through the cracked door to make sure no one had seen them.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what was going on, she turned to face him. "If you're asking about the church, you must have heard at least a bit already."
"Well, I suppose..."
"Take my advice, you shouldn't get involved."
The barmaid's expression was so serious there in the cramped back hall of the empty bar that he felt the mask of his coolheaded merchant's face slipping, but Lawrence quickly recovered and responded.
"So there is a power struggle, isn't there?"
If the girl hadn't had acting ability to rival Holo's, Lawrence would have known for sure he'd been dead-on.
"We serve uncommon dishes here, so we're one of the places that caters the church's dinners."
This corroborated the beggar's tale, and this was one of the few shops from which the church could order any meat dish they wished.
The girl scratched her head, sighing uncomfortably. "I don't know all the details, but it seems they're inviting powerful figures from all over. Once we were up for two nights straight cooking for some Church bigwig who'd come from far away."
A distant Church dignitary.
If this was a power struggle, Lawrence knew all too well what it pointed to.
The conversation was taking a strange turn.
"So they're solidifying their power base," said Lawrence.
"Yes. And they've been very careful about their reputation, like it's clay that hasn't dried yet. They give generously to the poor, but whence comes their money, no one knows. So there's no telling what might happen to whoever says anything. Everyone whispers to each other about how if the Church's eye falls upon them, they won't be able to stay in the city."
"If this is all true, why are you telling me?" asked Lawrence, slightly intimidated by the girl's seriousness.
"Well, I wouldn't tell just anyone."
Just as Lawrence wore the mask of a merchant, this girl surely wore the mask of the barmaid.
So if the back of the back was the front—which was this?
"For future reference, might I ask why you're making an exception?"
"Well, if I had to venture to say...," she replied strangely coy, her face drawing near. "I suppose it would be because you have the scent of another woman about you."
Unable to retreat because of the wall behind him, Lawrence started at the girl, his face faltering. "So it's your pride as a barmaid, then?"
The girl giggled. "There is that, but there's something about you that just makes a girl with a bit of confidence want to have a go. Do you get that a lot?"
Unfortunately, Lawrence's experience was limited to being rejected by inn maids.
All he could do was shake his head.
"Well, then there's only one explanation. You've only recently met the girl at your side."
She was not to be underestimated. Was this what they called female intuition?


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
But the foreign merchants had nothing to gain from spreading fake information, so whatever their goal, the meeting result that Eve had spoken of was probably true.
If the group of merchants outside the town were all acting out of their own personal self-interests, then they might be trying to create confusion in order to lure other parties away from the truth. In that case, though, Lawrence would expect there to be more than one story about the council's decision circulating.
Likewise, the town insiders and those close to them would know the truth firsthand, so it seemed unlikely that the foreign merchants were trying to create a disturbance within the town.
Eve had said she'd heard the news from sources within the Church.
Whether or not that was true, Lawrence might learn something here that would help him divine something from it.
"By the way," he started.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to ask about the church here—," said Lawrence.
"Uh, please lower your voice," interrupted the girl, her face suddenly stiff, grabbing his arm and pushing him through the barely opened back door of the tavern.
She then peered through the cracked door to make sure no one had seen them.
Just as Lawrence was wondering what was going on, she turned to face him. "If you're asking about the church, you must have heard at least a bit already."
"Well, I suppose..."
"Take my advice, you shouldn't get involved."
The barmaid's expression was so serious there in the cramped back hall of the empty bar that he felt the mask of his coolheaded merchant's face slipping, but Lawrence quickly recovered and responded.
"So there is a power struggle, isn't there?"
If the girl hadn't had acting ability to rival Holo's, Lawrence would have known for sure he'd been dead-on.
"We serve uncommon dishes here, so we're one of the places that caters the church's dinners."
This corroborated the beggar's tale, and this was one of the few shops from which the church could order any meat dish they wished.
The girl scratched her head, sighing uncomfortably. "I don't know all the details, but it seems they're inviting powerful figures from all over. Once we were up for two nights straight cooking for some Church bigwig who'd come from far away."
A distant Church dignitary.
If this was a power struggle, Lawrence knew all too well what it pointed to.
The conversation was taking a strange turn.
"So they're solidifying their power base," said Lawrence.
"Yes. And they've been very careful about their reputation, like it's clay that hasn't dried yet. They give generously to the poor, but whence comes their money, no one knows. So there's no telling what might happen to whoever says anything. Everyone whispers to each other about how if the Church's eye falls upon them, they won't be able to stay in the city."
"If this is all true, why are you telling me?" asked Lawrence, slightly intimidated by the girl's seriousness.
"Well, I wouldn't tell just anyone."
Just as Lawrence wore the mask of a merchant, this girl surely wore the mask of the barmaid.
So if the back of the back was the front—which was this?
"For future reference, might I ask why you're making an exception?"
"Well, if I had to venture to say...," she replied strangely coy, her face drawing near. "I suppose it would be because you have the scent of another woman about you."
Unable to retreat because of the wall behind him, Lawrence started at the girl, his face faltering. "So it's your pride as a barmaid, then?"
The girl giggled. "There is that, but there's something about you that just makes a girl with a bit of confidence want to have a go. Do you get that a lot?"
Unfortunately, Lawrence's experience was limited to being rejected by inn maids.
All he could do was shake his head.
"Well, then there's only one explanation. You've only recently met the girl at your side."
She was not to be underestimated. Was this what they called female intuition?

Output:
There weren't many men who would appreciate being compared to a sheep, but it was sadly true that he did in fact have a wolf by his side.
Was this girl really human?
"That's why I'd very much like you to bring your companion by the tavern."
Without interest in money or status, perhaps it was this sort of spice that was perfectly suited to adding a bit of flavor to life.
Surprisingly, that was probably what she had taken in exchange for telling him the truth.
"You've already given me that invitation," he said.
The barmaid gave a smile of frustration. "Oooh, that composure is so frustrating."
"I'm a sheep, after all. We're unsympathetic creatures," said Lawrence, putting his hand to the back door. He then turned back to the girl. "Of course, I'll tell no one of this conversation."
"Not even your charming companion?"
Lawrence couldn't help but laugh.
He wondered if this kind of girl was more his type than some mild maiden.
"So, you've told me everything, you say?"
"Without leaving out a bit."
Lawrence had returned to find Holo just as he'd left her—reading books, her tail swaying lazily. It flicked to a sudden stop.
"It seems I need to teach that girl a few things about territory." Holo looked at Lawrence, her expression mildly pleased. "But it seems you're coming to understand the truth of certain things."
"For a draft horse to be free despite its reins, it must anticipate the will of its driver."
Holo smiled, satisfied. "So," she said, sitting up. "What think you of all this?"
It seemed safe to believe that Eve had indeed sold statues to the Church, that they had a disagreement, and parted ways.
Also, Eve's description of the outcome of the council meeting seemed to be accurate.
What worried Lawrence was that in trying to gain control of the town, the Church was trying to establish a cathedral. Cathedrals acted as centers of power for the Church organization and were established based on the recommendations of influential landholders or clergymen, but generally the extant clergymen in such areas resisted the establishment of cathedrals because they represented a new power structure in the region.
Of course, Lawrence had heard that this was all dependent on money and connections.
If a cathedral was established here, the local church's current bishop would go from a man who was appointed bishop to one who appoints them himself. He would have the right to collect a certain amount from the tithes given to churches all over the region and the right to sanction secular rulers in the region.
Sole religious jurisdiction would be his, and while it was an extreme example, he could accuse all who disagreed with him of heresy, having his rivals burned at the stake. That said, most bishops' interests lay in being able to levy fines, and no authority would exceed Church jurisdiction.
It was anticipating such a situation that had made the barmaid so fearful of speaking out against the Church.
Lawrence could certainly understand why, having parted with the Church on bad terms, Eve would want to leave town and why she wouldn't be able to casually talk about restarting their arrangement next year.
What he couldn't understand was why she would fight with the Church in the first place. For Lawrence's part, he would have eaten mud to avoid crossing them. It would've been worth it.
It might not be a bad idea to make a gamble if it meant being able to understand the situation.
Given the Church's power in the Council of Fifty, no doubt the council's decision was made by the bishop, and since that decision would have been made in the best interests of the town's economy, Eve's plan stood in opposition to the Church.
Lawrence came to wonder if it was possible that his life might actually be at risk.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
There weren't many men who would appreciate being compared to a sheep, but it was sadly true that he did in fact have a wolf by his side.
Was this girl really human?
"That's why I'd very much like you to bring your companion by the tavern."
Without interest in money or status, perhaps it was this sort of spice that was perfectly suited to adding a bit of flavor to life.
Surprisingly, that was probably what she had taken in exchange for telling him the truth.
"You've already given me that invitation," he said.
The barmaid gave a smile of frustration. "Oooh, that composure is so frustrating."
"I'm a sheep, after all. We're unsympathetic creatures," said Lawrence, putting his hand to the back door. He then turned back to the girl. "Of course, I'll tell no one of this conversation."
"Not even your charming companion?"
Lawrence couldn't help but laugh.
He wondered if this kind of girl was more his type than some mild maiden.
"So, you've told me everything, you say?"
"Without leaving out a bit."
Lawrence had returned to find Holo just as he'd left her—reading books, her tail swaying lazily. It flicked to a sudden stop.
"It seems I need to teach that girl a few things about territory." Holo looked at Lawrence, her expression mildly pleased. "But it seems you're coming to understand the truth of certain things."
"For a draft horse to be free despite its reins, it must anticipate the will of its driver."
Holo smiled, satisfied. "So," she said, sitting up. "What think you of all this?"
It seemed safe to believe that Eve had indeed sold statues to the Church, that they had a disagreement, and parted ways.
Also, Eve's description of the outcome of the council meeting seemed to be accurate.
What worried Lawrence was that in trying to gain control of the town, the Church was trying to establish a cathedral. Cathedrals acted as centers of power for the Church organization and were established based on the recommendations of influential landholders or clergymen, but generally the extant clergymen in such areas resisted the establishment of cathedrals because they represented a new power structure in the region.
Of course, Lawrence had heard that this was all dependent on money and connections.
If a cathedral was established here, the local church's current bishop would go from a man who was appointed bishop to one who appoints them himself. He would have the right to collect a certain amount from the tithes given to churches all over the region and the right to sanction secular rulers in the region.
Sole religious jurisdiction would be his, and while it was an extreme example, he could accuse all who disagreed with him of heresy, having his rivals burned at the stake. That said, most bishops' interests lay in being able to levy fines, and no authority would exceed Church jurisdiction.
It was anticipating such a situation that had made the barmaid so fearful of speaking out against the Church.
Lawrence could certainly understand why, having parted with the Church on bad terms, Eve would want to leave town and why she wouldn't be able to casually talk about restarting their arrangement next year.
What he couldn't understand was why she would fight with the Church in the first place. For Lawrence's part, he would have eaten mud to avoid crossing them. It would've been worth it.
It might not be a bad idea to make a gamble if it meant being able to understand the situation.
Given the Church's power in the Council of Fifty, no doubt the council's decision was made by the bishop, and since that decision would have been made in the best interests of the town's economy, Eve's plan stood in opposition to the Church.
Lawrence came to wonder if it was possible that his life might actually be at risk.

Output:
And the scale of the deal that Eve was organizing, while a vast sum to a lone merchant, was not particularly significant in the context of the entire town's fur trade. Lawrence doubted he would attract the wrong kind of attention over such a relatively small venture, and it surely wouldn't become a matter of life or death. Of course, to some individuals, thousands of silver pieces could certainly be worth killing over.
Lawrence explained this all to Holo.
The wisewolf listened seriously for a while, but her posture grew lazier and lazier, and eventually she collapsed back onto the bed.
Lawrence, however, was not angry.
He could find no reason to object to her behavior.
"What do you think?" he finally asked. Holo yawned at this, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her tail.
"I find no fault with your explanation itself. It all more or less makes sense."
Lawrence was about to ask whether that meant he should go ahead with the deal or not but stopped himself short.
He was the merchant; he would be the one to decide.
Holo chuckled. "I'm a wisewolf, not a god. If you start to think me an oracle, I'll vanish."
"Before a big deal, I always start to feel like I want to ask someone's opinion."
"Hah, even though you've already come to a decision? Would you change your mind if I tearfully begged you to?" Holo grinned.
Lawrence knew how he needed to answer. "Even if I did brush it off, you'll still be there at the inn. I'll complete the deal, then return. That is all there is to it."
Holo chuckled throatily, scratching at her neck as though Lawrence's words were difficult to listen to. "Aye, and once you can say those words without blushing, then you'll be a proper man."
Lawrence had grown used to Holo's japes.
He shrugged them off. They were no more than a greeting by now.
"I must say, though, that you were certainly energetic during your explanation there. Of course"—continued Holo, cutting Lawrence off—"I'm not saying that is a bad thing. Males are at their best when chasing their prey."
Now it was Lawrence's turn to scratch his nose in awkward embarrassment, but if he didn't find some retort for Holo, she would surely become angry.
He gave a deliberate sigh, then reminded himself that he was going along with her joke. "But you just want me to pay attention to you once in a while, too, yes?"
"Got it in one," said Holo, smiling happily. "However, what will become of me should the deal fall through?"
"Well, you're collateral. So if we can't return the money, you'll be sold off somewhere."
"Oh ho." Holo lay facedown on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms, her tail and legs pointed up and waving lazily in the air. "So that was what gave you such nightmares?"
"...That, too."
If their deal failed and they were unable to pay back what they owed, Holo would become the property of the trade firm.
However, she would hardly sit there meekly and allow herself to be sold.
That gave Lawrence some measure of relief, but he was not so optimistic as to think that once she bit through the ropes that bound her and escaped, she would come running back to him.
"Should it come to that, I'll have to pick someone a bit cleverer as my next partner," said Holo, her red-amber eyes narrowed maliciously.
"Indeed. It'd be best to cover such a fool in the dirt kicked up as you left him," Lawrence quickly replied to Holo's teasing.
The wisewolf did not seem pleased. "Big words from the brat who practically cried when I nearly left before."
Lawrence made a face as though he had swallowed a walnut, shell and all.
Holo grinned, satisfied, the pat-patting of her tail audible.
It was after she ceased wagging it that her expression shifted and she spoke again. "But I shall cooperate because I trust you."
Her smile was genuine.
Lawrence scratched his chin, then stroked his beard. "Naturally."
It was twilight.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
And the scale of the deal that Eve was organizing, while a vast sum to a lone merchant, was not particularly significant in the context of the entire town's fur trade. Lawrence doubted he would attract the wrong kind of attention over such a relatively small venture, and it surely wouldn't become a matter of life or death. Of course, to some individuals, thousands of silver pieces could certainly be worth killing over.
Lawrence explained this all to Holo.
The wisewolf listened seriously for a while, but her posture grew lazier and lazier, and eventually she collapsed back onto the bed.
Lawrence, however, was not angry.
He could find no reason to object to her behavior.
"What do you think?" he finally asked. Holo yawned at this, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her tail.
"I find no fault with your explanation itself. It all more or less makes sense."
Lawrence was about to ask whether that meant he should go ahead with the deal or not but stopped himself short.
He was the merchant; he would be the one to decide.
Holo chuckled. "I'm a wisewolf, not a god. If you start to think me an oracle, I'll vanish."
"Before a big deal, I always start to feel like I want to ask someone's opinion."
"Hah, even though you've already come to a decision? Would you change your mind if I tearfully begged you to?" Holo grinned.
Lawrence knew how he needed to answer. "Even if I did brush it off, you'll still be there at the inn. I'll complete the deal, then return. That is all there is to it."
Holo chuckled throatily, scratching at her neck as though Lawrence's words were difficult to listen to. "Aye, and once you can say those words without blushing, then you'll be a proper man."
Lawrence had grown used to Holo's japes.
He shrugged them off. They were no more than a greeting by now.
"I must say, though, that you were certainly energetic during your explanation there. Of course"—continued Holo, cutting Lawrence off—"I'm not saying that is a bad thing. Males are at their best when chasing their prey."
Now it was Lawrence's turn to scratch his nose in awkward embarrassment, but if he didn't find some retort for Holo, she would surely become angry.
He gave a deliberate sigh, then reminded himself that he was going along with her joke. "But you just want me to pay attention to you once in a while, too, yes?"
"Got it in one," said Holo, smiling happily. "However, what will become of me should the deal fall through?"
"Well, you're collateral. So if we can't return the money, you'll be sold off somewhere."
"Oh ho." Holo lay facedown on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms, her tail and legs pointed up and waving lazily in the air. "So that was what gave you such nightmares?"
"...That, too."
If their deal failed and they were unable to pay back what they owed, Holo would become the property of the trade firm.
However, she would hardly sit there meekly and allow herself to be sold.
That gave Lawrence some measure of relief, but he was not so optimistic as to think that once she bit through the ropes that bound her and escaped, she would come running back to him.
"Should it come to that, I'll have to pick someone a bit cleverer as my next partner," said Holo, her red-amber eyes narrowed maliciously.
"Indeed. It'd be best to cover such a fool in the dirt kicked up as you left him," Lawrence quickly replied to Holo's teasing.
The wisewolf did not seem pleased. "Big words from the brat who practically cried when I nearly left before."
Lawrence made a face as though he had swallowed a walnut, shell and all.
Holo grinned, satisfied, the pat-patting of her tail audible.
It was after she ceased wagging it that her expression shifted and she spoke again. "But I shall cooperate because I trust you."
Her smile was genuine.
Lawrence scratched his chin, then stroked his beard. "Naturally."
It was twilight.

Output:
Lawrence gazed out on the town for a moment; then once the sun was fully set and the town streets emptied, he closed the wooden window of their inn room. Holo continued to read her books by the light of a tallow lamp.
The books seemed to have been organized chronologically, and Holo read the most recent chronicles first.
Considering what they had learned in the village of Pasloe, Lawrence felt that she would find what she was looking for faster if she started from the oldest records, but he suspected that she avoided doing so in order to preserve some measure of composure in her heart.
In any case, only two volumes remained, so the probability that she would soon find the accounts she sought was very high. Holo seemed to be very concerned about what would happen after that, and even after darkness fell, she said she wanted to read. Thus Lawrence gave her permission to read by lamplight, provided she was careful to keep soot—and especially flame—away from the pages.
Holo did not wear her normal indoor robes when reading. She was fully dressed to leave at a moment's notice.
This was not because of the cold, but rather because they would soon be going to negotiate with Eve.
"Well then, shall we go?" Lawrence asked.
The time of the negotiation had not been set precisely, but Lawrence could be reasonably certain, since "at night" was a generally agreed-upon range among merchants. Once he headed downstairs with Holo and waited, it was hard not to feel like a small-time merchant who was overexcited by the notion of profit.
But Eve was late—very late—which was rude.
Perhaps this was her idea of a test.
She hadn't said to meet at sunset because merchants preferred to write their figures during the day, when no candles were necessary, and because it would take them a bit of time to return to the inn.
So presumably she had wanted to wait until after that wave of merchants had returned to the inn and settled down.
If he listened carefully, Lawrence could tell which occupants had returned to which rooms.
Weighing that against the number of rooms in the inn, he expected Eve to arrive soon.
"You merchants are a troublesome lot indeed," said Holo, closing the book with a thud and sitting up on the bed, stretching.
Even a normal girl would have been able to tell that Lawrence was fidgeting over when would be the best time.
"If I must put on an act even in my own inn room, when am I to relax?" asked Lawrence, half joking.
Holo got off the bed, seeming to think something over as she adjusted her ears and tail beneath her cloak. "For some time after we met...no, even recently, you've seemed to always put on a bit of an act around me."
"It's the first time I've ever traveled with a girl. Took time to get used to."
It was also the first time he had let himself go this much around anyone else.
He'd never felt so comfortable around anyone before.
"And yet when we'd just met, your nostrils would puff just from walking about with me," said Holo
"Aye, and would your tail puff up if you saw me with another woman?" Lawrence shot back.
Holo looked up and regarded him as if to say, "You've got a lot of nerve." She then said, "But just like that, a male will gradually reveal his true colors, and eventually turn into someone you never would have expected."
"Isn't that true for more or less anyone as you become close to them?"
"Fool. Don't you humans have a saying, 'Feed not the fish you catch?'"
"That doesn't apply here. I didn't catch the fish, it snuck into my wagon bed on its own, didn't it? Forget about giving it food; I should be charging it for transport."
But no sooner had he said it, than Lawrence flinched away.
Holo's keen gaze was illuminated by the faintly flickering light of the lamp. She was not joking.
Had he treated her poorly? Or had his agitated state been even more irritating than he'd guessed? Perhaps she hadn't liked his comeback.
"Hmph...What I meant was, don't forget your original intention."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Lawrence gazed out on the town for a moment; then once the sun was fully set and the town streets emptied, he closed the wooden window of their inn room. Holo continued to read her books by the light of a tallow lamp.
The books seemed to have been organized chronologically, and Holo read the most recent chronicles first.
Considering what they had learned in the village of Pasloe, Lawrence felt that she would find what she was looking for faster if she started from the oldest records, but he suspected that she avoided doing so in order to preserve some measure of composure in her heart.
In any case, only two volumes remained, so the probability that she would soon find the accounts she sought was very high. Holo seemed to be very concerned about what would happen after that, and even after darkness fell, she said she wanted to read. Thus Lawrence gave her permission to read by lamplight, provided she was careful to keep soot—and especially flame—away from the pages.
Holo did not wear her normal indoor robes when reading. She was fully dressed to leave at a moment's notice.
This was not because of the cold, but rather because they would soon be going to negotiate with Eve.
"Well then, shall we go?" Lawrence asked.
The time of the negotiation had not been set precisely, but Lawrence could be reasonably certain, since "at night" was a generally agreed-upon range among merchants. Once he headed downstairs with Holo and waited, it was hard not to feel like a small-time merchant who was overexcited by the notion of profit.
But Eve was late—very late—which was rude.
Perhaps this was her idea of a test.
She hadn't said to meet at sunset because merchants preferred to write their figures during the day, when no candles were necessary, and because it would take them a bit of time to return to the inn.
So presumably she had wanted to wait until after that wave of merchants had returned to the inn and settled down.
If he listened carefully, Lawrence could tell which occupants had returned to which rooms.
Weighing that against the number of rooms in the inn, he expected Eve to arrive soon.
"You merchants are a troublesome lot indeed," said Holo, closing the book with a thud and sitting up on the bed, stretching.
Even a normal girl would have been able to tell that Lawrence was fidgeting over when would be the best time.
"If I must put on an act even in my own inn room, when am I to relax?" asked Lawrence, half joking.
Holo got off the bed, seeming to think something over as she adjusted her ears and tail beneath her cloak. "For some time after we met...no, even recently, you've seemed to always put on a bit of an act around me."
"It's the first time I've ever traveled with a girl. Took time to get used to."
It was also the first time he had let himself go this much around anyone else.
He'd never felt so comfortable around anyone before.
"And yet when we'd just met, your nostrils would puff just from walking about with me," said Holo
"Aye, and would your tail puff up if you saw me with another woman?" Lawrence shot back.
Holo looked up and regarded him as if to say, "You've got a lot of nerve." She then said, "But just like that, a male will gradually reveal his true colors, and eventually turn into someone you never would have expected."
"Isn't that true for more or less anyone as you become close to them?"
"Fool. Don't you humans have a saying, 'Feed not the fish you catch?'"
"That doesn't apply here. I didn't catch the fish, it snuck into my wagon bed on its own, didn't it? Forget about giving it food; I should be charging it for transport."
But no sooner had he said it, than Lawrence flinched away.
Holo's keen gaze was illuminated by the faintly flickering light of the lamp. She was not joking.
Had he treated her poorly? Or had his agitated state been even more irritating than he'd guessed? Perhaps she hadn't liked his comeback.
"Hmph...What I meant was, don't forget your original intention."

Output:
Holo could be strangely childish at times, so perhaps she was annoyed at the fact that not only had Lawrence failed to be flustered but had actually counterattacked.
Perhaps realizing her own fault, she backed off.
Lawrence gave her a thin, tired smile and sighed.
"There's something irritating about that," said Holo
"It's your imagination...No, perhaps you're right." Lawrence cleared his throat, then looked back at Holo. "Can you see into my mind?" He asked the question he had put to her seriously when they first met.
Holo grinned, then came in close. "Fool."
"Ouch!"
She had kicked his shin.
Holo's smile remained undisturbed as she smoothly walked past Lawrence and put her hand to the door.
"Are you coming?"
Lawrence swallowed the remark that came to mind—that Holo would never have treated him like this when they had first met—and followed her out the door.
She had told him not to forget his original intention, but that was truly impossible.
The words carried heavy significance. Time could never be turned back, and everybody knew there was no such thing as a person who never changed.
Lawrence knew that, so there was no doubt that Holo knew it as well.
"Of course, it's also true that I can easily take your hand only because we've been traveling for so long together. But"—Holo's face was suddenly sad—"do not poets speak of wishing to stay always as they were upon first meeting a lover?"
It was for only the barest moment that Lawrence thought she was being her usual teasing self.
He found himself surprised at Holo's words, at how obviously she wished to turn back time as she became more conscious of the journey's approaching end.
Holo seemed to be always looking far to the future, but that was not actually true.
And yet, Lawrence was touched that it wasn't to the happy times centuries earlier when she first arrived at her village that she wanted to return, nor was it to the time before then, before she began her journey at all.
She had taken hold of him with her left hand. Though it embarrassed him, he curled his fingers around hers as he spoke. "You might be well returning to that time, but for my part, I'd collapse from overwork."
Holo drew closer to him as they descended the stairs. "Worry not, for I would be there at your deathbed," she said with a malicious smile, which Lawrence could only answer with a tired smile of his own.
It was on the way to the first floor that Lawrence realized her words were not entirely a joke.
If Holo was to say that the search for her homeland could be postponed, Lawrence would certainly die before she did. If Holo's journey didn't end, their journey as a pair surely would.
Lawrence suddenly felt like he understood her reasons for not answering when, back in Tereo, he'd asked what her plans were after they reached her homeland.
Such thoughts occupied his mind when they reached the first floor, and Holo let go of his hand. Lawrence was not bold enough to feel comfortable entering a room while holding a girl's hand, even if that girl was Holo. At the same time, though, he did not want to be the one that let go. Her accommodation for his feelings warmed his heart.
It was as though she was answering the question of what would happen when they reached her homeland.
The feeling helped him muster more than his usual amount of gravitas when he greeted Eve and Arold, who were already there. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Well then, shall we begin?" asked Eve in her hoarse voice.
"So, what did you learn from your poking about?" Eve asked.
There was no need to introduce Holo.
What was visible of her face beneath the cloak and her posture and movements on the chair spoke volumes.
Eve's somewhat utilitarian manner was not unreasonable. Selling Holo was not, after all, their ultimate objective, but her affectation was a bit miserly nonetheless.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Holo could be strangely childish at times, so perhaps she was annoyed at the fact that not only had Lawrence failed to be flustered but had actually counterattacked.
Perhaps realizing her own fault, she backed off.
Lawrence gave her a thin, tired smile and sighed.
"There's something irritating about that," said Holo
"It's your imagination...No, perhaps you're right." Lawrence cleared his throat, then looked back at Holo. "Can you see into my mind?" He asked the question he had put to her seriously when they first met.
Holo grinned, then came in close. "Fool."
"Ouch!"
She had kicked his shin.
Holo's smile remained undisturbed as she smoothly walked past Lawrence and put her hand to the door.
"Are you coming?"
Lawrence swallowed the remark that came to mind—that Holo would never have treated him like this when they had first met—and followed her out the door.
She had told him not to forget his original intention, but that was truly impossible.
The words carried heavy significance. Time could never be turned back, and everybody knew there was no such thing as a person who never changed.
Lawrence knew that, so there was no doubt that Holo knew it as well.
"Of course, it's also true that I can easily take your hand only because we've been traveling for so long together. But"—Holo's face was suddenly sad—"do not poets speak of wishing to stay always as they were upon first meeting a lover?"
It was for only the barest moment that Lawrence thought she was being her usual teasing self.
He found himself surprised at Holo's words, at how obviously she wished to turn back time as she became more conscious of the journey's approaching end.
Holo seemed to be always looking far to the future, but that was not actually true.
And yet, Lawrence was touched that it wasn't to the happy times centuries earlier when she first arrived at her village that she wanted to return, nor was it to the time before then, before she began her journey at all.
She had taken hold of him with her left hand. Though it embarrassed him, he curled his fingers around hers as he spoke. "You might be well returning to that time, but for my part, I'd collapse from overwork."
Holo drew closer to him as they descended the stairs. "Worry not, for I would be there at your deathbed," she said with a malicious smile, which Lawrence could only answer with a tired smile of his own.
It was on the way to the first floor that Lawrence realized her words were not entirely a joke.
If Holo was to say that the search for her homeland could be postponed, Lawrence would certainly die before she did. If Holo's journey didn't end, their journey as a pair surely would.
Lawrence suddenly felt like he understood her reasons for not answering when, back in Tereo, he'd asked what her plans were after they reached her homeland.
Such thoughts occupied his mind when they reached the first floor, and Holo let go of his hand. Lawrence was not bold enough to feel comfortable entering a room while holding a girl's hand, even if that girl was Holo. At the same time, though, he did not want to be the one that let go. Her accommodation for his feelings warmed his heart.
It was as though she was answering the question of what would happen when they reached her homeland.
The feeling helped him muster more than his usual amount of gravitas when he greeted Eve and Arold, who were already there. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Well then, shall we begin?" asked Eve in her hoarse voice.
"So, what did you learn from your poking about?" Eve asked.
There was no need to introduce Holo.
What was visible of her face beneath the cloak and her posture and movements on the chair spoke volumes.
Eve's somewhat utilitarian manner was not unreasonable. Selling Holo was not, after all, their ultimate objective, but her affectation was a bit miserly nonetheless.

Output:
But on that count, Eve was skilled enough at hiding her face that Lawrence's eyes could not discern much, and he did not expect to learn anything. It was like warming up before hard exercise.
"Based on my experience and intuition as a merchant, I believe that what you've told me is all true, Eve."
"Oh?" came her disinterested, hoarse voice. She seemed to be well accustomed to negotiation.
"But there is one thing I am worried about."
"Which would be?"
"The reason for your angry split with the Church."
There was nothing more pointless than asking that of her, but Lawrence had decided he would try to compare Eve's answer to the information he had already gathered. If it wasn't consistent, he'd know she was lying.
Holo, sitting next to him, could probably also tell whether she was being honest, but relying on Holo to do this was no different than treating her as an oracle. No, if Eve's answer didn't agree with what he was thinking, cutting her off would be the best course.
After all, they would be selling Holo off based on Lawrence's judgment, so the responsibility to make that judgment fell wholly to him, he felt.
"The reason for my split? I suppose you would wonder about that," said Eve, clearing her throat.
He knew her mind would be racing.
Whatever the undesirable outcome of Lawrence withdrawing from the deal might be, it would most certainly mean the failure of the plan.
She was surely trying to guess at what he had seen and heard around town today.
If she was going to lie, her chances of matching up with whatever information Lawrence had gathered today were almost nil.
"The bishop of the church here is a relic of the good old days, a past he can't forget," began Eve. "He's ambitious. In his younger days, he came here as a missionary, enduring hellish hardship, and what got him through it was his goal of becoming powerful and influential. He wants to establish a cathedral here. In other words, he wants to be an archbishop."
"An archbishop—" The word was practically synonymous with power.
Eve nodded and continued. "As I said before, I may have fallen into disgrace, but I'm nobility. When I began searching this area for good business opportunities, I heard tell of a bishop turning an untoward profit. It was the bishop here. At the time, he was using a trade company as a front and using tithes to get in on the fur trade, but in the end, he just shut himself up in his church and counted figures. He was getting deeper and deeper in the red. So I proposed a way to kill two birds with one stone."
"And that would be the statue trade."
"Exactly. And I didn't just sell him statues. I'm nobility of the kingdom of Winfiel, after all. I can still speak to those in power. I put him in contact with the archbishop there, whose power base is unshakable."
Lawrence found himself nodding internally.
If that was true, then the statues were probably made by the same traveling stonemasons that the archbishop brought together to maintain his cathedral. Once the repairs to the intricate masonry of a cathedral were complete, they would normally either move on to another town or do piecemeal work.
But even so, the amount of certain types of work is limited, which can be a source of friction between groups of masons in an area. And ironically, it was the itinerant stonemasons, who spent time polishing their skills, who were by far the most capable, and they were the only ones who could handle the maintenance on the intricate stonework of the cathedrals.
So in towns that had a cathedral, whenever it required repair, the local stoneworkers worried about having their business stolen and being made superfluous.
Which was how Eve's business, based as it was on stonework, helped ease that concern.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
But on that count, Eve was skilled enough at hiding her face that Lawrence's eyes could not discern much, and he did not expect to learn anything. It was like warming up before hard exercise.
"Based on my experience and intuition as a merchant, I believe that what you've told me is all true, Eve."
"Oh?" came her disinterested, hoarse voice. She seemed to be well accustomed to negotiation.
"But there is one thing I am worried about."
"Which would be?"
"The reason for your angry split with the Church."
There was nothing more pointless than asking that of her, but Lawrence had decided he would try to compare Eve's answer to the information he had already gathered. If it wasn't consistent, he'd know she was lying.
Holo, sitting next to him, could probably also tell whether she was being honest, but relying on Holo to do this was no different than treating her as an oracle. No, if Eve's answer didn't agree with what he was thinking, cutting her off would be the best course.
After all, they would be selling Holo off based on Lawrence's judgment, so the responsibility to make that judgment fell wholly to him, he felt.
"The reason for my split? I suppose you would wonder about that," said Eve, clearing her throat.
He knew her mind would be racing.
Whatever the undesirable outcome of Lawrence withdrawing from the deal might be, it would most certainly mean the failure of the plan.
She was surely trying to guess at what he had seen and heard around town today.
If she was going to lie, her chances of matching up with whatever information Lawrence had gathered today were almost nil.
"The bishop of the church here is a relic of the good old days, a past he can't forget," began Eve. "He's ambitious. In his younger days, he came here as a missionary, enduring hellish hardship, and what got him through it was his goal of becoming powerful and influential. He wants to establish a cathedral here. In other words, he wants to be an archbishop."
"An archbishop—" The word was practically synonymous with power.
Eve nodded and continued. "As I said before, I may have fallen into disgrace, but I'm nobility. When I began searching this area for good business opportunities, I heard tell of a bishop turning an untoward profit. It was the bishop here. At the time, he was using a trade company as a front and using tithes to get in on the fur trade, but in the end, he just shut himself up in his church and counted figures. He was getting deeper and deeper in the red. So I proposed a way to kill two birds with one stone."
"And that would be the statue trade."
"Exactly. And I didn't just sell him statues. I'm nobility of the kingdom of Winfiel, after all. I can still speak to those in power. I put him in contact with the archbishop there, whose power base is unshakable."
Lawrence found himself nodding internally.
If that was true, then the statues were probably made by the same traveling stonemasons that the archbishop brought together to maintain his cathedral. Once the repairs to the intricate masonry of a cathedral were complete, they would normally either move on to another town or do piecemeal work.
But even so, the amount of certain types of work is limited, which can be a source of friction between groups of masons in an area. And ironically, it was the itinerant stonemasons, who spent time polishing their skills, who were by far the most capable, and they were the only ones who could handle the maintenance on the intricate stonework of the cathedrals.
So in towns that had a cathedral, whenever it required repair, the local stoneworkers worried about having their business stolen and being made superfluous.
Which was how Eve's business, based as it was on stonework, helped ease that concern.

Output:
It was an ideal situation; one in which all parties profited.
"I'm glad you understand. That will make this easier to explain. It's as you've said. The reason I contented myself with the thin margins I made by selling statues was because I was counting on the bishop here to become an archbishop. But then—"
Lawrence could not tell whether the edge that crept into Eve's voice was an act or a result of her suppressed anger.
But so far all the facts fit; Eve's story was all too plausible.
"As the bishop profited from his deal with me and solidified his position, people around him started to divine what his goal was, and the bishop set about eliminating obstacles. The current affair was just a convenient excuse for him to cut me off. He owed me. He probably thought that the longer I was around, the more unfavorable demands I would make of him. And of course, I had planned to do exactly that. It was my right. But he decided he'd rather deal with an already-established trade firm instead of a single merchant just trying to establish herself. Even I can understand the reasoning, but that doesn't mean I agree with it."
Lawrence mused to himself that anger burned as visibly as any flame.
"So we argued, and we split," finished Eve.
Sitting next to Lawrence, Holo was so quiet that it was easy to forget she was there.
Lawrence went over Eve's story again in his head.
It seemed to be entirely consistent. So consistent, in fact, that it made him suspicious.
If it was a lie, it was a good enough one that he almost wouldn't mind working with her anyway.
"I see. So that's what made it hard for you to turn your statues into cash and why you can't very well just wait for next year's northern campaign."
Eve's silence beneath her cowl contrasted starkly with her previous garrulity.
Lawrence took a slow, quiet breath.
He closed his eyes.
If he was going to doubt even this consistent of a story, any other deal would be difficult as well.
On the other hand, he might just be fooling himself.
Only merchants, constantly scheming and being schemed upon, had to worry about such things.
"Understood," he said, exhaling the breath he had been holding.
He noticed Eve's shoulders move ever so slightly.
He was confident that this wasn't an act on her part.
No merchant was capable of remaining completely expressionless in such moments.
"Let's discuss the particulars of the deal," he finished.
"...Yes, let's."
Lawrence got the sense that in the shadow of her cowl, Eve smiled.
She extended her hand.
Lawrence took it; it was trembling ever so slightly.
Subsequently, Lawrence and Eve with Holo in tow ventured out into the town.
Their expedition was not to celebrate their newly established contract. Merchants do not celebrate anything until profit is in their hands.
There was no way of knowing exactly when the Council of Fifty would make their decision public and unleash the rush of merchants trying to monopolize the fur trade, so they needed to secure the necessary cash as quickly as possible.
So out into the town they went to call upon the trading firm that would lend them the money with Holo as collateral.
The trading firm was called the Delink Company.
Though it was situated conveniently close to the port, the building was rather small and had no loading dock.
The only thing that identified it as a trading company was a small flag hanging unobtrusively in the doorway.
However, the building's stone construction was so fine that not even a single hair could slip between the stones, and though it was fully five stories tall, it did not seem to lean against the adjoining buildings.
As Lawrence examined the flag more closely, which was dimly lit by the flickering light of an oil lamp, he could see that it was an embroidered piece of the highest quality. Set against mist-gray stones, it gave the trading house the presence of a small giant, not some come-lately business.
Lawrence wondered if this company's approach to publicity was different from other houses'.