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

Input:
The boy had summoned the courage to leave his village. Was the coat he had been given to mark the occasion truly worth so little?
It would hardly feel good to be told that the item that held so many memories was worth less than the thread it took to repair it.
"Well, then, thank you!" said Col happily, hurrying to shrug the coat back over his shoulders.
Lawrence thought to invite Holo along as well, but with her having just fallen asleep, even pinching her nose closed would not wake her, so he and Col left as a pair. Besides, if Kieman or Eve came calling, it would be better if there was someone in the room.
"So, which thread would you like?"
Having asked the innkeeper where to find a tailor, the two found the place with no trouble.
It seemed that only certain parts of the town had been thrown into chaos by the narwhal.
Power was power because it could not be shared; most people were not concerned about large-scale land ownership or town-wide reputation—such matters were as far above their heads as the moon.
Before meeting Holo, Lawrence himself had been one such moon gazer. Despite all the adventures he had been through with Holo, this quiet life was where he felt most at home.
The tailor shop at which they arrived had shutters open to a makeshift table upon which were arranged clothes, as well as thread and scrap cloth for patching.
The bored-looking boy minding the shop held his chin in hands that were dyed a dark color, probably owing to the fabric dyes he worked with.
He straightened and smiled as soon as he noticed Lawrence and Col, and seeing this, Lawrence returned the smile.
This world felt very familiar.
"So, the price varies with the color, but what do you think you'd like?" asked Lawrence.
"Hmm...since this is my coat's color, I suppose..."
The shopkeeper spoke up as Col looked down at his coat. "A nice pale yellow shouldn't stand out."
Yellow-dyed goods were a luxury item, and the side of the shop boy's smile made it clear just how true that was.
The boy seemed to be a year or two younger than Col but was probably a far tougher negotiator. Craftsmen's apprentices were often beaten and kicked. They were toughened up in a way Col had not been.
"Er, but can't yellow be quite..." Col seemed to understand that dye color affected price and hastily met Lawrence's gaze, but of course, the shop boy would hardly admit that openly.
"Ah, you must be the master of a great shop somewhere!" he said, brushing aside Col's words and leaning over the table. No doubt his own pay was based on the value of the goods he sold.
"It's a shame we didn't wear our finest out today," said Lawrence in response to the boy's merchant spirit.
The boy straightened his collar and puffed out his chest, leaving Col still silent. "Yes, yes, I quite take your meaning! Please do have a look at this here," said the boy, producing a sample of thread.
The thread in the boy's hand was no longer than his palm, but if it happened to blow away in the breeze, he would probably lose three days' rations to make up for it.
The yellow dye came from across the seven seas, from a flower called saffron whose blossoms flowed down the river that led to an earthly paradise. Its rich golden hue called to mind gold itself.
Dye of any kind was an expense, and the sole purpose of fine clothing was to flatter the wearer's pride. Since the wealthy bought such products without a thought, the price rose and rose.
In any case, Col seemed to have deduced where the conversation was heading and grabbed Lawrence's sleeve hastily.
"M-Mr. Lawrence—"
"Hmm?" Lawrence smiled and turned back as the young apprentice raised his voice in an effort to hold on to his customer.
"Good sir! Good sir, look, take a good look at this fine golden color! So pure a gold that even gold itself looks shabby beside it! This is my master's finest product. What say you, hmm?"
Lawrence nodded dutifully at the young salesman's urging.

Output:
He seemed to be evaluating the boy's technique more than he was watching to see whether the thread sold or not.
Lawrence looked at the master, who seemed to notice him, and the two men shared a glance. The man gave a voiceless smile and raised his hand in greeting.
Lawrence replied with a nod and then turned his attention back to the boy. "It is indeed a fine gold. Bright as any metal."
"Is it not? So, if you please—"
"Still, wouldn't such fine thread be wasted on such a coat? If it's so bright as to cause even true gold to fade by comparison, won't it cause the seams to stand out?
In that instant, the boy's desperate business smile froze.
Behind the boy, Lawrence heard the master sigh helplessly.
"To make sure the seams aren't too visible, we'll take your cheapest gray thread."
Perhaps visions of the commission he had hoped to make from selling the golden thread had been dancing in his head, for the boy was at a loss for a reply. Behind him, the master stood and approached. "What length will you be needing?"
The man knocked the boy on the head with a rough hand worthy of a craftsman.
If he could not stand up to a clever merchant, he would never be able to sell his wares for a good price, no matter how skillfully they were made. The master seemed to be trying to teach his apprentice this lesson.
"How much could I get for three silver lute?"
"Indeed...in that frayed state, maybe enough to do five seams like it? And while you're at it, how about taking some of this blue thread off my hands? The dye's been coming off the boats like mad these days, so there's quite a lot."
"You should buy it while it's cheap, then, and sell it when the price rises."
The man smiled as though knowing it had been futile from the beginning. "Three lute worth, then," he said, taking down a spool of the gray thread.
Their shopping concluded, Lawrence and Col returned to the inn. They walked alongside the river and gazed at the town, Col following two steps behind Lawrence, holding the little sack that contained the thread and looking rather tired.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, which made Col look away like a scolded puppy.
He was smart enough to know he had been made sport of, perhaps. But it seemed to have affected him more than Lawrence would have anticipated.
"Are you so very surprised?"
"...N-no, it's just..."
Col's eyes glanced this way and that.
Lawrence wondered if he had become too accustomed to traveling with a certain maliciously witty wolf.
"Holo's teasing is far worse than mine," said Lawrence, feeling a bit defensive.
This seemed to call something to Col's mind, and he nodded, embarrassed. "True," he admitted.
"And I seem to recall her telling you to be more shameless. I'm no god, just a merchant, so I don't show mercy unless begged."
Lawrence had not paid Col back for the salve, to say nothing for his solution to the coin puzzle. He wanted to reward the lad, but most merchants would have said nothing. Hardly any would remind a seller he had forgotten to demand payment. Lawrence agonized over which kind he was but finally decided in favor of honesty.
"Of course, if you were actually the sort of person who acted shamelessly when told to, I suppose I wouldn't be traveling with you."
Instead of being embarrassed, Col smiled.
Lawrence could see why Holo liked him so much.
"Still, I may not be a god, but I don't mind being prayed to once in a while."
"Huh?"
"If I truly hated being asked for this or that, I wouldn't be traveling with certain fanged somebody."
At these words, Col grinned and tightened his grip on the burlap bag.
"But you're a future clergyman, so if you're not going to pray to me, at least let me give my confession."
"Eh...you mean...?"
"I confess that my behavior during the prior exchange was not exactly commendable," said Lawrence, looking away from Col.
Col was silent for only a moment, then soon caught on and straightened up, his expression turning serious, as one would expect from a priest. "What do you mean by that?"


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

Input:
He seemed to be evaluating the boy's technique more than he was watching to see whether the thread sold or not.
Lawrence looked at the master, who seemed to notice him, and the two men shared a glance. The man gave a voiceless smile and raised his hand in greeting.
Lawrence replied with a nod and then turned his attention back to the boy. "It is indeed a fine gold. Bright as any metal."
"Is it not? So, if you please—"
"Still, wouldn't such fine thread be wasted on such a coat? If it's so bright as to cause even true gold to fade by comparison, won't it cause the seams to stand out?
In that instant, the boy's desperate business smile froze.
Behind the boy, Lawrence heard the master sigh helplessly.
"To make sure the seams aren't too visible, we'll take your cheapest gray thread."
Perhaps visions of the commission he had hoped to make from selling the golden thread had been dancing in his head, for the boy was at a loss for a reply. Behind him, the master stood and approached. "What length will you be needing?"
The man knocked the boy on the head with a rough hand worthy of a craftsman.
If he could not stand up to a clever merchant, he would never be able to sell his wares for a good price, no matter how skillfully they were made. The master seemed to be trying to teach his apprentice this lesson.
"How much could I get for three silver lute?"
"Indeed...in that frayed state, maybe enough to do five seams like it? And while you're at it, how about taking some of this blue thread off my hands? The dye's been coming off the boats like mad these days, so there's quite a lot."
"You should buy it while it's cheap, then, and sell it when the price rises."
The man smiled as though knowing it had been futile from the beginning. "Three lute worth, then," he said, taking down a spool of the gray thread.
Their shopping concluded, Lawrence and Col returned to the inn. They walked alongside the river and gazed at the town, Col following two steps behind Lawrence, holding the little sack that contained the thread and looking rather tired.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, which made Col look away like a scolded puppy.
He was smart enough to know he had been made sport of, perhaps. But it seemed to have affected him more than Lawrence would have anticipated.
"Are you so very surprised?"
"...N-no, it's just..."
Col's eyes glanced this way and that.
Lawrence wondered if he had become too accustomed to traveling with a certain maliciously witty wolf.
"Holo's teasing is far worse than mine," said Lawrence, feeling a bit defensive.
This seemed to call something to Col's mind, and he nodded, embarrassed. "True," he admitted.
"And I seem to recall her telling you to be more shameless. I'm no god, just a merchant, so I don't show mercy unless begged."
Lawrence had not paid Col back for the salve, to say nothing for his solution to the coin puzzle. He wanted to reward the lad, but most merchants would have said nothing. Hardly any would remind a seller he had forgotten to demand payment. Lawrence agonized over which kind he was but finally decided in favor of honesty.
"Of course, if you were actually the sort of person who acted shamelessly when told to, I suppose I wouldn't be traveling with you."
Instead of being embarrassed, Col smiled.
Lawrence could see why Holo liked him so much.
"Still, I may not be a god, but I don't mind being prayed to once in a while."
"Huh?"
"If I truly hated being asked for this or that, I wouldn't be traveling with certain fanged somebody."
At these words, Col grinned and tightened his grip on the burlap bag.
"But you're a future clergyman, so if you're not going to pray to me, at least let me give my confession."
"Eh...you mean...?"
"I confess that my behavior during the prior exchange was not exactly commendable," said Lawrence, looking away from Col.
Col was silent for only a moment, then soon caught on and straightened up, his expression turning serious, as one would expect from a priest. "What do you mean by that?"

Output:
"Taking your frustration out?"
Col had a bad habit of becoming distracted by his own thoughts. As soon as he replied to Lawrence, he looked up, stumbled, and fell.
"You saw how troubled I was back at the inn, didn't you?" Lawrence couldn't bring himself to laugh at the boy during his own confession, so he merely held out a hand. When one stumbled, royalty blamed, nobility coughed, and commoners pretended to have done it on purpose.
But Col did none of those things.
He was going to become a fine clergy member.
"I did."
But at this answer, Lawrence could not help uttering a pained chuckle. Col hastily tried to take it back, but Lawrence waved him off. "No, no, it's fine. You may be my apprentice, but I can't very well strike your face just to save mine."
Looking a bit confused, Col smiled and then rubbed his own cheek.
"But after acting so pathetically, I wanted to get some of my pride back, you see."
"...So was that why you shared that look with the master in the shop, then?"
The boy had keen eyes indeed.
"That's right. I went over your head just to tease you. I just wanted to make you worry that I was going to buy you the most expensive thread...and feel a bit superior myself. Rather childish of me, I guess."
Lawrence scratched his neck as he looked out over the river.
Some merchants stood near a boat as it was being unloaded. He could hear their voices on the wind. They were trying to talk themselves on board so they could cross to the southern side.
But the town regulated river crossings during times of crisis. Crossing the river was an important connection indeed for the town's landowners. Lawrence doubted the boatman would risk taking the merchants across for a piddling bribe, which the merchants themselves surely knew. Yet they were still trying to cross, which went to show how significant the events currently playing out were.
Given all that, Kieman had still somehow managed to have his letter delivered to Lawrence, which yet again proved just how powerful he was.
"Your confession has been heard. God has surely forgiven you." Not only had Col heard him out, but also he had added the priest's standard phrase after doing so.
"Thank you," said Lawrence, trying to sound as grateful as he could.
"Still, Mr. Lawrence—"
"Hmm?"
"You had another reason for doing that, didn't you?"
Col looked straight at Lawrence. His gaze held not a trace of malice, which made Lawrence feel all the more impaled by it.
"You were trying to meet Miss Holo's expectations, weren't you?"
The boy's eyes shone as if he were a child listening to a heroic tale, so brightly that they were almost painful to regard.
Lawrence could not help but turn away from him out of shame. "I can't say that...wasn't part of it, too," he finally managed to answer.
Confirming his own negotiation ability was the source of his unease.
"I know I can't do very much to help you, Mr. Lawrence, but please keep at it!"
"R-right."
It seemed like Col was putting every ounce of his slim frame's strength into supporting Lawrence. Lawrence was sure that if he had been in the boy's position and seen someone older than him act in such a shameful manner, his esteem for his elder would have fallen.
The only reason he thought to buy the thread for Col and toyed with the shop boy was in service of his own sense of superiority.
Not only did Col not mind, he was actually cheering Lawrence on. Part of that could be ascribed to Col's personality, but mysteries yet remained.
And a merchant's curiosity ran deeper than any cat's.
"And despite my looking so pathetic—a sad little merchant taking his frustrations out on those beneath him—you still hold me in some esteem? You're a strange lad, that's certain," said Lawrence, and unsurprisingly, Col was taken aback.
He had not intended to flatter Lawrence; he had simply been speaking his mind. "Huh...? But...I mean...you're traveling with Miss Holo, aren't you? She told me you were looking for her homelands."
"True, but...?"


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

Input:
"Taking your frustration out?"
Col had a bad habit of becoming distracted by his own thoughts. As soon as he replied to Lawrence, he looked up, stumbled, and fell.
"You saw how troubled I was back at the inn, didn't you?" Lawrence couldn't bring himself to laugh at the boy during his own confession, so he merely held out a hand. When one stumbled, royalty blamed, nobility coughed, and commoners pretended to have done it on purpose.
But Col did none of those things.
He was going to become a fine clergy member.
"I did."
But at this answer, Lawrence could not help uttering a pained chuckle. Col hastily tried to take it back, but Lawrence waved him off. "No, no, it's fine. You may be my apprentice, but I can't very well strike your face just to save mine."
Looking a bit confused, Col smiled and then rubbed his own cheek.
"But after acting so pathetically, I wanted to get some of my pride back, you see."
"...So was that why you shared that look with the master in the shop, then?"
The boy had keen eyes indeed.
"That's right. I went over your head just to tease you. I just wanted to make you worry that I was going to buy you the most expensive thread...and feel a bit superior myself. Rather childish of me, I guess."
Lawrence scratched his neck as he looked out over the river.
Some merchants stood near a boat as it was being unloaded. He could hear their voices on the wind. They were trying to talk themselves on board so they could cross to the southern side.
But the town regulated river crossings during times of crisis. Crossing the river was an important connection indeed for the town's landowners. Lawrence doubted the boatman would risk taking the merchants across for a piddling bribe, which the merchants themselves surely knew. Yet they were still trying to cross, which went to show how significant the events currently playing out were.
Given all that, Kieman had still somehow managed to have his letter delivered to Lawrence, which yet again proved just how powerful he was.
"Your confession has been heard. God has surely forgiven you." Not only had Col heard him out, but also he had added the priest's standard phrase after doing so.
"Thank you," said Lawrence, trying to sound as grateful as he could.
"Still, Mr. Lawrence—"
"Hmm?"
"You had another reason for doing that, didn't you?"
Col looked straight at Lawrence. His gaze held not a trace of malice, which made Lawrence feel all the more impaled by it.
"You were trying to meet Miss Holo's expectations, weren't you?"
The boy's eyes shone as if he were a child listening to a heroic tale, so brightly that they were almost painful to regard.
Lawrence could not help but turn away from him out of shame. "I can't say that...wasn't part of it, too," he finally managed to answer.
Confirming his own negotiation ability was the source of his unease.
"I know I can't do very much to help you, Mr. Lawrence, but please keep at it!"
"R-right."
It seemed like Col was putting every ounce of his slim frame's strength into supporting Lawrence. Lawrence was sure that if he had been in the boy's position and seen someone older than him act in such a shameful manner, his esteem for his elder would have fallen.
The only reason he thought to buy the thread for Col and toyed with the shop boy was in service of his own sense of superiority.
Not only did Col not mind, he was actually cheering Lawrence on. Part of that could be ascribed to Col's personality, but mysteries yet remained.
And a merchant's curiosity ran deeper than any cat's.
"And despite my looking so pathetic—a sad little merchant taking his frustrations out on those beneath him—you still hold me in some esteem? You're a strange lad, that's certain," said Lawrence, and unsurprisingly, Col was taken aback.
He had not intended to flatter Lawrence; he had simply been speaking his mind. "Huh...? But...I mean...you're traveling with Miss Holo, aren't you? She told me you were looking for her homelands."
"True, but...?"

Output:
Lawrence did not understand what Col was getting at. It was true that the obstacle before them was beyond what a traveling merchant could handle, and even with Holo's support he felt far from confident.
But he got the feeling that Col's words referred to something else.
Did he mean that simply being able to travel with Holo implied that Lawrence was formidable in his own right, and therefore any problem that worried him this much had to be a serious matter?
Or was it something else?
Lawrence mulled it over and then realized something.
Col continued speaking. "I mean, this journey is the continuation of Holo's legend, isn't it? So the problems you face have to be worthy of such a tale! I'm truly grateful to be able to be part of the story," he said, revealing an innocent smile.
Tales of adventure were passed down from traveler to traveler along the road, in every inn and town. But it had been more than ten years since Lawrence had last longed to one day be involved in such a tale himself.
Even Col, who was so clever and logical he could leave any merchant in his wake felt the same way.
Surely there was not another boy so guilelessly charming as this one.
"It's true; she does say she'll speak of this journey grandly in legends to come. But that's all the more reason I need to behave properly for you."
Lawrence meant it as a joke, and Col's eyes went wide as he smiled. "I don't want to be thought of as a burden when our tale is told!"
It was a reply to a joke that could never have been made in front of Holo.
Lawrence shook his head lightly, sighing and looking up. "Well, in any case, there's one thing we must be very careful of indeed. We must cooperate to make absolutely certain we never anger her."
Col was clever enough not to take his words for their surface meaning. He seemed happy, which meant he must have understood what Lawrence was trying to say.
"Sometimes I act shamefully, as I did earlier. I need someone's help to stop me from doing it."
"I understand!" replied Col. "I'll do whatever I can."
Lawrence was up against opponents who were well used to fighting battles on multiple fronts. He needed every ally he could get.
What was it that Holo had said to him? Her admonishment that he should get used to using people could have meant that he would have to start trusting them. In this battle of many versus many, such advice would surely be all the more important.
Lawrence shook hands with Col, his mood much improved. When it came to reaffirming his faith in his negotiation skills, that handshake was hundreds of times more effective than the pathetic banter with the tailor's shop boy.
Holo was probably snickering back on the bed even then.
"Well, shall we return?" asked Lawrence, turning back toward the inn.
"Yes!" Col followed diagonally behind Lawrence.
The cloudy, unpleasant weather suddenly did not seem so very bad.
***
Returning to the inn with Col, they found Holo fast asleep, curled up in her blanket and snoring away quietly.
Lawrence exchanged a wordless smile with Col, and in that moment, Holo's snoring abruptly stopped.
Either she was simply that sensitive to any sort of discussion about her, or the delicate hairs in her ears picked up the faint movements in the air upon their entry.
Holo opened her eyes slowly, then buried her head beneath the blankets, her whole body quivering as she yawned.
"So, truly—what shall we do?" she asked.
Holo could tell that Col had gone out with Lawrence, and she called him straight over, sniffing him audibly.
No doubt she had an ulterior motive—that of demanding a share of any food they might have bought.
Col looked faintly abashed, shrinking at the attention.
"A traveling merchant cannot hope to survive without a guild. So at the very least, I cannot oppose them."
"'A big tree makes fine shelter,' eh? I suppose it gives a bit of freedom to the small-fry beneath it—'tis probably the right choice."


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

Input:
Lawrence did not understand what Col was getting at. It was true that the obstacle before them was beyond what a traveling merchant could handle, and even with Holo's support he felt far from confident.
But he got the feeling that Col's words referred to something else.
Did he mean that simply being able to travel with Holo implied that Lawrence was formidable in his own right, and therefore any problem that worried him this much had to be a serious matter?
Or was it something else?
Lawrence mulled it over and then realized something.
Col continued speaking. "I mean, this journey is the continuation of Holo's legend, isn't it? So the problems you face have to be worthy of such a tale! I'm truly grateful to be able to be part of the story," he said, revealing an innocent smile.
Tales of adventure were passed down from traveler to traveler along the road, in every inn and town. But it had been more than ten years since Lawrence had last longed to one day be involved in such a tale himself.
Even Col, who was so clever and logical he could leave any merchant in his wake felt the same way.
Surely there was not another boy so guilelessly charming as this one.
"It's true; she does say she'll speak of this journey grandly in legends to come. But that's all the more reason I need to behave properly for you."
Lawrence meant it as a joke, and Col's eyes went wide as he smiled. "I don't want to be thought of as a burden when our tale is told!"
It was a reply to a joke that could never have been made in front of Holo.
Lawrence shook his head lightly, sighing and looking up. "Well, in any case, there's one thing we must be very careful of indeed. We must cooperate to make absolutely certain we never anger her."
Col was clever enough not to take his words for their surface meaning. He seemed happy, which meant he must have understood what Lawrence was trying to say.
"Sometimes I act shamefully, as I did earlier. I need someone's help to stop me from doing it."
"I understand!" replied Col. "I'll do whatever I can."
Lawrence was up against opponents who were well used to fighting battles on multiple fronts. He needed every ally he could get.
What was it that Holo had said to him? Her admonishment that he should get used to using people could have meant that he would have to start trusting them. In this battle of many versus many, such advice would surely be all the more important.
Lawrence shook hands with Col, his mood much improved. When it came to reaffirming his faith in his negotiation skills, that handshake was hundreds of times more effective than the pathetic banter with the tailor's shop boy.
Holo was probably snickering back on the bed even then.
"Well, shall we return?" asked Lawrence, turning back toward the inn.
"Yes!" Col followed diagonally behind Lawrence.
The cloudy, unpleasant weather suddenly did not seem so very bad.
***
Returning to the inn with Col, they found Holo fast asleep, curled up in her blanket and snoring away quietly.
Lawrence exchanged a wordless smile with Col, and in that moment, Holo's snoring abruptly stopped.
Either she was simply that sensitive to any sort of discussion about her, or the delicate hairs in her ears picked up the faint movements in the air upon their entry.
Holo opened her eyes slowly, then buried her head beneath the blankets, her whole body quivering as she yawned.
"So, truly—what shall we do?" she asked.
Holo could tell that Col had gone out with Lawrence, and she called him straight over, sniffing him audibly.
No doubt she had an ulterior motive—that of demanding a share of any food they might have bought.
Col looked faintly abashed, shrinking at the attention.
"A traveling merchant cannot hope to survive without a guild. So at the very least, I cannot oppose them."
"'A big tree makes fine shelter,' eh? I suppose it gives a bit of freedom to the small-fry beneath it—'tis probably the right choice."

Output:
Holo was pointing out that since he was hardly an important figure in the town, he had the luxury of being able to move fairly freely despite the ongoing incident.
Calling him "small-fry" seemed harsh, but Lawrence had to admit it was accurate.
"Still, the greatest short-term profit would be had by taking the narwhal to Eve."
"And then make our escape, hand in hand? That might be rather amusing."
Without Holo, would such a dangerous, adventurous option have been available? Lawrence thought about it for a moment and concluded that if not for Holo, he would have long since removed himself from this dangerous situation entirely.
He slumped at the absurdity of it all, which made Holo grin maliciously, her tail wagging easily.
If you're so afraid of that possibility, just say so—but she did not say it, and neither did Lawrence.
It would have been a shame to pull the curtain up on their little drama so soon. They had to be considerate of their audience—Col.
"So, then. Given that both Eve and the guild know where we're staying, there's no telling when we'll get drawn up into danger. I'd like to make sure I have a full grasp of the situation so I don't react badly when that happens," said Lawrence. Holo gazed at him wordlessly for a while before smiling faintly.
"What is it?" he asked, but she only shook her head without answering.
Nevertheless, Lawrence had some idea why she was smiling.
She looked at him as if he were a small child who had fallen and was trying not to cry.
"Mm." Holo nodded and tapped Col's head—he was sitting beside her.
Col was one of them now.
"Please, go on!" Col replied to Lawrence, who began his explanation.
The inn was also a tavern, and it was late enough into the night that their orders of wine were fulfilled by a yawning innkeeper.
Lawrence had expected that either Kieman or Eve would come calling, but there was no news from either of them. He sipped wine out of sheer nervous energy, but his worry was so much effort in vain.
By contrast, Holo got Col quite drunk, as usual.
Once she was able to confirm that the intoxicated boy was asleep, she would move back to her own bed. Holo insisted that if she did not get him drunk, he would sleep on the floor.
Lawrence was not sure if she was doing him any favors or not. Her methods were extreme; that much was certain.
"Now then, this will finish off our day nicely."
Given that he had made a fool of himself twice that day, Lawrence had gone to fetch more wine from downstairs, though he knew it did not constitute an apology.
Holo seemed to expect as much, but Lawrence could tell that she was a bit disappointed at his meek obedience. She even seemed annoyed at his ordering of the last bottle, as she felt it excessive.
Usually she would make a dissatisfied face upon encountering the end of the evening's drinking, but now, if anything, she seemed relieved.
Her ability to be so thoroughly dishonest about her own desires was a cunning, wolfish thing indeed.
And yet Holo was still Holo.
"Ah, well, for my part I only wish you'd bring your whimpering to an end." She tried to pull her tail out from under Col's head at the corner of the bed and took the bottle from Lawrence's hand, a nasty smile on her face.
She was being so childish that it seemed likely she would enjoy his silence even more than a clumsy retort.
But if she got too happy, her wagging tale would surely wake the sleeping Col, so Lawrence formed a careful reply.
"Yet ask any mercenary, and they'll tell you the strong die first. I'd say some pathetic whimpering is just right."
"Fool," declared an unamused Holo, looking back down at Col. She grabbed his ears and pulled his head slightly up, evidently still trying to pull her tail free. It seemed a little extreme to Lawrence, until he noticed the drool that threatened to fall from the boy's mouth onto her tail. "I can't let my guard down," said Holo, sighing in relief as she stroked her now-freed tail.


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

Input:
Holo was pointing out that since he was hardly an important figure in the town, he had the luxury of being able to move fairly freely despite the ongoing incident.
Calling him "small-fry" seemed harsh, but Lawrence had to admit it was accurate.
"Still, the greatest short-term profit would be had by taking the narwhal to Eve."
"And then make our escape, hand in hand? That might be rather amusing."
Without Holo, would such a dangerous, adventurous option have been available? Lawrence thought about it for a moment and concluded that if not for Holo, he would have long since removed himself from this dangerous situation entirely.
He slumped at the absurdity of it all, which made Holo grin maliciously, her tail wagging easily.
If you're so afraid of that possibility, just say so—but she did not say it, and neither did Lawrence.
It would have been a shame to pull the curtain up on their little drama so soon. They had to be considerate of their audience—Col.
"So, then. Given that both Eve and the guild know where we're staying, there's no telling when we'll get drawn up into danger. I'd like to make sure I have a full grasp of the situation so I don't react badly when that happens," said Lawrence. Holo gazed at him wordlessly for a while before smiling faintly.
"What is it?" he asked, but she only shook her head without answering.
Nevertheless, Lawrence had some idea why she was smiling.
She looked at him as if he were a small child who had fallen and was trying not to cry.
"Mm." Holo nodded and tapped Col's head—he was sitting beside her.
Col was one of them now.
"Please, go on!" Col replied to Lawrence, who began his explanation.
The inn was also a tavern, and it was late enough into the night that their orders of wine were fulfilled by a yawning innkeeper.
Lawrence had expected that either Kieman or Eve would come calling, but there was no news from either of them. He sipped wine out of sheer nervous energy, but his worry was so much effort in vain.
By contrast, Holo got Col quite drunk, as usual.
Once she was able to confirm that the intoxicated boy was asleep, she would move back to her own bed. Holo insisted that if she did not get him drunk, he would sleep on the floor.
Lawrence was not sure if she was doing him any favors or not. Her methods were extreme; that much was certain.
"Now then, this will finish off our day nicely."
Given that he had made a fool of himself twice that day, Lawrence had gone to fetch more wine from downstairs, though he knew it did not constitute an apology.
Holo seemed to expect as much, but Lawrence could tell that she was a bit disappointed at his meek obedience. She even seemed annoyed at his ordering of the last bottle, as she felt it excessive.
Usually she would make a dissatisfied face upon encountering the end of the evening's drinking, but now, if anything, she seemed relieved.
Her ability to be so thoroughly dishonest about her own desires was a cunning, wolfish thing indeed.
And yet Holo was still Holo.
"Ah, well, for my part I only wish you'd bring your whimpering to an end." She tried to pull her tail out from under Col's head at the corner of the bed and took the bottle from Lawrence's hand, a nasty smile on her face.
She was being so childish that it seemed likely she would enjoy his silence even more than a clumsy retort.
But if she got too happy, her wagging tale would surely wake the sleeping Col, so Lawrence formed a careful reply.
"Yet ask any mercenary, and they'll tell you the strong die first. I'd say some pathetic whimpering is just right."
"Fool," declared an unamused Holo, looking back down at Col. She grabbed his ears and pulled his head slightly up, evidently still trying to pull her tail free. It seemed a little extreme to Lawrence, until he noticed the drool that threatened to fall from the boy's mouth onto her tail. "I can't let my guard down," said Holo, sighing in relief as she stroked her now-freed tail.

Output:
Assuming the northern landowners were in charge, it seemed best to assume they were losing their ability to hold things together.
The narwhal could change everything.
More and more, Lawrence was coming to understand just how important it was.
"I am right here, and yet you gaze out the window?"
Holo had moved to a chair and helped herself to a handful of roast beans.
There was a boldness to her crunching away that made him somehow happy.
Lawrence shrugged and closed the windows. "We still need to be ready to escape at a moment's notice."
The answer seemed to satisfy Holo. She chuckled, picked up a bean that had fallen, and ate it. "I suppose 'tis true enough. Will you not drink with me a bit? 'Tis a sad thing to drink on one's own."
Holo poked at his cup of wine with her finger, causing ripples on the surface of the wine he had just poured into it.
Looking down at it, Lawrence realized he had not even finished half of his first cup. "Why not? It seems unlikely we'll get a message at this hour."
"Of that we cannot be certain."
"Huh?" inquired Lawrence, regarding Holo from across the table.
"Vixens have excellent night vision."
Lawrence thought it over for a moment, then shrugged and replied, "All the more important to drink now, then."
"Huh?"
"If I collapse unconscious from too much drink, there's no need to worry about how I might be tricked."
Holo grinned, revealing a fang. "Fool. If you fall asleep and expose your belly, our tale will come to an early end."
"I can't imagine the wolf would let the fox steal her prey so easily," replied Lawrence, which made Holo's grin widen, showing her other fang.
"That's a bit hard to know. After all, my prey is always showing me its belly. 'Tis all too easy to become careless and believe there's no need for haste. Such thinking is dangerous."
Having come to this point, Lawrence could not resist making some kind of comeback. "But your tail's just as exposed. If you would take me by surprise, you'd best be careful I don't grab your tail."
"And I suppose you want me to insist that you'd never dare such a thing, hmm?" Holo's elbows were on the table, her ears flicking rapidly; Lawrence felt a bit irritated.
He knew he was being teased, but he took a drink and responded, "And yet you're hiding something about the narwhal from me."
Immediately after saying so, he was the one who ended up surprised.
Holo grinned and brought her wine cup to her mouth, but then twitched in surprise.
If she had been acting, then Lawrence would have lost their little game—but Holo was genuinely shocked.
Her eyes moved away, realizing that she could not hide that she had been taken by surprise. She bit her lip and glared at Lawrence.
"I'm even more surprised than you are," said Lawrence by way of excuse.
At this, Holo's brow furrowed, and she took a deep breath. After a good interval, she heaved a wine-scented sigh.
"And this is why such fools as you are...," she muttered, gulping down what wine remained.
Lawrence should have had the advantage, but for some reason, he waited for Holo to speak again, like a child expecting to be scolded.
"I don't care what sort of face you make, I'm not saying. I do not wish to," she said, and she looked away sullenly.
Her angry yet childish demeanor had to be on purpose.
She might have been trying to lead him into a trap or simply trying to buy time in order to regroup.
As Lawrence pondered which it was, Holo's ears and tail became vital indicators.
Just as hunters and trappers communicated with smoke signals, Lawrence translated the subtle movements of Holo's appendages.
She was trying to hide her embarrassment—or something like that. "Ah," he couldn't help but say the moment he realized it.
"If you say another word, I truly will be angry," Holo said, still looking away, her eyes shut.
Lawrence agonized over whether to laugh or not, finally bringing his wine cup to his lips as a diversion—that was as much of a conclusion as he could come to.
Holo knew about the narwhal.


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

Input:
Assuming the northern landowners were in charge, it seemed best to assume they were losing their ability to hold things together.
The narwhal could change everything.
More and more, Lawrence was coming to understand just how important it was.
"I am right here, and yet you gaze out the window?"
Holo had moved to a chair and helped herself to a handful of roast beans.
There was a boldness to her crunching away that made him somehow happy.
Lawrence shrugged and closed the windows. "We still need to be ready to escape at a moment's notice."
The answer seemed to satisfy Holo. She chuckled, picked up a bean that had fallen, and ate it. "I suppose 'tis true enough. Will you not drink with me a bit? 'Tis a sad thing to drink on one's own."
Holo poked at his cup of wine with her finger, causing ripples on the surface of the wine he had just poured into it.
Looking down at it, Lawrence realized he had not even finished half of his first cup. "Why not? It seems unlikely we'll get a message at this hour."
"Of that we cannot be certain."
"Huh?" inquired Lawrence, regarding Holo from across the table.
"Vixens have excellent night vision."
Lawrence thought it over for a moment, then shrugged and replied, "All the more important to drink now, then."
"Huh?"
"If I collapse unconscious from too much drink, there's no need to worry about how I might be tricked."
Holo grinned, revealing a fang. "Fool. If you fall asleep and expose your belly, our tale will come to an early end."
"I can't imagine the wolf would let the fox steal her prey so easily," replied Lawrence, which made Holo's grin widen, showing her other fang.
"That's a bit hard to know. After all, my prey is always showing me its belly. 'Tis all too easy to become careless and believe there's no need for haste. Such thinking is dangerous."
Having come to this point, Lawrence could not resist making some kind of comeback. "But your tail's just as exposed. If you would take me by surprise, you'd best be careful I don't grab your tail."
"And I suppose you want me to insist that you'd never dare such a thing, hmm?" Holo's elbows were on the table, her ears flicking rapidly; Lawrence felt a bit irritated.
He knew he was being teased, but he took a drink and responded, "And yet you're hiding something about the narwhal from me."
Immediately after saying so, he was the one who ended up surprised.
Holo grinned and brought her wine cup to her mouth, but then twitched in surprise.
If she had been acting, then Lawrence would have lost their little game—but Holo was genuinely shocked.
Her eyes moved away, realizing that she could not hide that she had been taken by surprise. She bit her lip and glared at Lawrence.
"I'm even more surprised than you are," said Lawrence by way of excuse.
At this, Holo's brow furrowed, and she took a deep breath. After a good interval, she heaved a wine-scented sigh.
"And this is why such fools as you are...," she muttered, gulping down what wine remained.
Lawrence should have had the advantage, but for some reason, he waited for Holo to speak again, like a child expecting to be scolded.
"I don't care what sort of face you make, I'm not saying. I do not wish to," she said, and she looked away sullenly.
Her angry yet childish demeanor had to be on purpose.
She might have been trying to lead him into a trap or simply trying to buy time in order to regroup.
As Lawrence pondered which it was, Holo's ears and tail became vital indicators.
Just as hunters and trappers communicated with smoke signals, Lawrence translated the subtle movements of Holo's appendages.
She was trying to hide her embarrassment—or something like that. "Ah," he couldn't help but say the moment he realized it.
"If you say another word, I truly will be angry," Holo said, still looking away, her eyes shut.
Lawrence agonized over whether to laugh or not, finally bringing his wine cup to his lips as a diversion—that was as much of a conclusion as he could come to.
Holo knew about the narwhal.

Output:
Then it was all Lawrence could do to think back on the events of his travels with Holo thus far.
What was it that her long life had led her to fear above all else?
And yet even Holo could not have known everything at the time of her birth. She must have been a stubborn child at some point herself—must have run around like a fool at least once or twice in her life.
Even now, if she could make a wish, surely it would be this: to somehow bridge the great difference in their ages.
"...I thought you'd realized and were merely pretending not to know for my sake—more the fool me, I suppose."
She seemed to have concluded from Lawrence's expression that he had finally caught up. She spoke as though at a loss for anything else and again brought her wine to her lips.
Lawrence was relieved to see that she seemed neither sad nor on the verge of tears, because it showed that even stricken by a mistake made in the distant past, her face could still smile.
"No...to be completely honest, I thought you were completely ignorant about such things. I never guessed you'd know about the legend."
The stories of immortality or omnipotent cures were surely only of interest to humans, after all. He had never guessed they would be of any concern to Holo and the rest of her kind.
"Fool..." Holo roughly wiped away a bit of wine that clung to the corner of her mouth with her sleeve and then fell forward on the table as if exhausted.
Given how tightly her hand held her cup, though, it might simply have been intoxication.
"So you once pursued a narwhal?" Lawrence asked, and Holo nodded.
It had to have been centuries ago.
"Though 'tis true that at the time I was an ignorant pup, I believed I could change everything about the world I found distasteful. When I hated being rescued or relied upon, I would journey, and when I had no friends, I would make them. I believed such pleasant times would last forever," she reflected, sounding vaguely amused, still lying on the table as she fingered some of the beans that had spilled off the plate.
Even now, Holo held back from being truly honest. If this was how she ended up after weathering such ages of wind and rain, then she must truly have been even sharper in her younger days.
"Still, I cried a lot as well, for all my bluster. You'd probably have liked it."
Holo grinned and moved her eyes to focus on Lawrence.
She flicked beans at him, which he could only respond to by making a face and retreating into his wine.
"Heh...but, aye. The more painful the memories one recollects, the better the laughter."
"I can't argue with that." Lawrence had laughed to himself while driving his cart many times, lost in reflection over his past failures.
But that was not something he wanted to do too often, and the reason was clear—he had lacked someone with whom to share those memories. And yet he immediately realized such thoughts had no place in his mind.
Across the table, the keen-eyed wolf regarded him and smiled.
"But now I have you," she said without a trace of embarrassment, and he could only respond by flicking a bean back at her.
"You have Col, too."
"I cannot talk like this with Col. The lad—he's the weight stone that reminds me I am a wisewolf."
What did she mean by that? Lawrence's finger froze preflick as he thought it over.
Col was from a village in the mountains of the north. He viewed Holo as the protagonist of an ongoing legend.
Which meant there could be only one reason why she would regard him as a weight.
Her finger suddenly flicked at where Lawrence's finger lay.
"Col worships me as a wisewolf. He was foolish enough to want to touch my tail the moment he saw it. It's been centuries since such a thing has happened to me. It reminded me of long ago and made me happy...He's a good lad, and he reminds me that I am a wisewolf."
Holo's index finger curled around Lawrence's where the two touched.
"It's true, you have been easier to get along with recently."
"Heh. I've no excuse."


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

Input:
Then it was all Lawrence could do to think back on the events of his travels with Holo thus far.
What was it that her long life had led her to fear above all else?
And yet even Holo could not have known everything at the time of her birth. She must have been a stubborn child at some point herself—must have run around like a fool at least once or twice in her life.
Even now, if she could make a wish, surely it would be this: to somehow bridge the great difference in their ages.
"...I thought you'd realized and were merely pretending not to know for my sake—more the fool me, I suppose."
She seemed to have concluded from Lawrence's expression that he had finally caught up. She spoke as though at a loss for anything else and again brought her wine to her lips.
Lawrence was relieved to see that she seemed neither sad nor on the verge of tears, because it showed that even stricken by a mistake made in the distant past, her face could still smile.
"No...to be completely honest, I thought you were completely ignorant about such things. I never guessed you'd know about the legend."
The stories of immortality or omnipotent cures were surely only of interest to humans, after all. He had never guessed they would be of any concern to Holo and the rest of her kind.
"Fool..." Holo roughly wiped away a bit of wine that clung to the corner of her mouth with her sleeve and then fell forward on the table as if exhausted.
Given how tightly her hand held her cup, though, it might simply have been intoxication.
"So you once pursued a narwhal?" Lawrence asked, and Holo nodded.
It had to have been centuries ago.
"Though 'tis true that at the time I was an ignorant pup, I believed I could change everything about the world I found distasteful. When I hated being rescued or relied upon, I would journey, and when I had no friends, I would make them. I believed such pleasant times would last forever," she reflected, sounding vaguely amused, still lying on the table as she fingered some of the beans that had spilled off the plate.
Even now, Holo held back from being truly honest. If this was how she ended up after weathering such ages of wind and rain, then she must truly have been even sharper in her younger days.
"Still, I cried a lot as well, for all my bluster. You'd probably have liked it."
Holo grinned and moved her eyes to focus on Lawrence.
She flicked beans at him, which he could only respond to by making a face and retreating into his wine.
"Heh...but, aye. The more painful the memories one recollects, the better the laughter."
"I can't argue with that." Lawrence had laughed to himself while driving his cart many times, lost in reflection over his past failures.
But that was not something he wanted to do too often, and the reason was clear—he had lacked someone with whom to share those memories. And yet he immediately realized such thoughts had no place in his mind.
Across the table, the keen-eyed wolf regarded him and smiled.
"But now I have you," she said without a trace of embarrassment, and he could only respond by flicking a bean back at her.
"You have Col, too."
"I cannot talk like this with Col. The lad—he's the weight stone that reminds me I am a wisewolf."
What did she mean by that? Lawrence's finger froze preflick as he thought it over.
Col was from a village in the mountains of the north. He viewed Holo as the protagonist of an ongoing legend.
Which meant there could be only one reason why she would regard him as a weight.
Her finger suddenly flicked at where Lawrence's finger lay.
"Col worships me as a wisewolf. He was foolish enough to want to touch my tail the moment he saw it. It's been centuries since such a thing has happened to me. It reminded me of long ago and made me happy...He's a good lad, and he reminds me that I am a wisewolf."
Holo's index finger curled around Lawrence's where the two touched.
"It's true, you have been easier to get along with recently."
"Heh. I've no excuse."

Output:
It was Holo the Wisewolf who was worthy of the forest of Yoitsu, not some idle girl whiling away her time with a traveling merchant.
"Still," Lawrence said after a certain amount of wordless finger play between the two of them. "For you to keep that from me, after haranguing me so much over consulting you before deciding what to do..."
How many troubles had arisen from each of them keeping their hearts secret from the other?
It pained him to have to say this, of course, but Holo answered without rancor. "If I discuss matters of business openly, my own gain will be less, will it not?" If she had not said it with such a mischievous smile, it would have been hard to accept with even the most rueful of grins.
Holo sat up and stretched, her ears flicking.
Both of them knew how important it was that they not grow too close. And yet that very awareness meant the opposite was happening—Lawrence had kicked the rule aside himself before.
Even Holo must have kicked at the stones along the path of her long, long life once or twice.
And yet none of that changed reality.
Holo had called Col a weight that anchored her belief in herself as a wisewolf, and she surely was not exaggerating. While it might be amusing for her to use the boy to tease Lawrence, she also did this out of self-defense—to make sure she never crossed the line. To hide the awful reality she understood but could do nothing about. As an excuse.
"Aye, we're all greedy, always running about in service of our own gain."
"On that count, I'm forced to agree. Of course...," said Lawrence with a trace of irony. "...Of course, if I weren't so greedy, I'd be able to buy you tastier food."
Holo laughed, tickled at the joke, then stood from the chair.
Her face was red, so she was probably too warm. As he had guessed, she opened the window slightly and narrowed her eyes in pleasure at the cool breeze.
"Mm. But is seeing my pleasure not in your interests as well?" Holo closed her eyes as the cool air caressed her cheek, looking like a purring cat. She then opened a single eye and regarded Lawrence with it.
Her movements were so perfectly performed it was as if she was watching herself in a mirror.
"If you were truly so easily bribed by food, then that might be so."
Holo closed her eye again at the counterattack.
Her ability to repeat a gesture she had made just seconds earlier, this time seeming to sulk, was amazing.
A few moments later, Holo was every bit the arrogant noblewoman. "And what other methods could you use?"
Lawrence remembered when a village with which he had once traded asked him to sell the wine barrels they produced to a nearby abbey that possessed a large vineyard.
The abbot there was a proud and stingy man, making all sorts of demands of Lawrence, who had to work very hard indeed to complete the sale.
Being a member of a wealthy abbey, the abbot surely felt himself closer to God than Lawrence and thus privileged to look down upon him.
Yet the wisewolf before Lawrence's very eyes hated being treated as the god she was—so why would she affect such haughtiness?
The abbot cared little for the losses of those who sold to him and was concerned only with his own profits.
So given that the starting conditions here were the opposite of that, then the conclusion was likewise the opposite.
Lawrence said what she wanted him to say.
"If food is out, then with words or manners."
"Neither of which is so very reliable in your case."
He had become so used to her malicious, fanged grin that it had even more charm than a normal smile. And if neither his words nor his manner could be trusted, there was only one option that remained.
In order to fully display its truth, Lawrence had to stand up from his chair.
Or perhaps remaining seated in order to avoid fleeing from Holo was the better option.
Both had their charms, Lawrence knew. He took a drink of his wine and replied.
"Or you could imagine you've been deceived and decide to trust both. They might well turn out to be genuine."


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

Input:
It was Holo the Wisewolf who was worthy of the forest of Yoitsu, not some idle girl whiling away her time with a traveling merchant.
"Still," Lawrence said after a certain amount of wordless finger play between the two of them. "For you to keep that from me, after haranguing me so much over consulting you before deciding what to do..."
How many troubles had arisen from each of them keeping their hearts secret from the other?
It pained him to have to say this, of course, but Holo answered without rancor. "If I discuss matters of business openly, my own gain will be less, will it not?" If she had not said it with such a mischievous smile, it would have been hard to accept with even the most rueful of grins.
Holo sat up and stretched, her ears flicking.
Both of them knew how important it was that they not grow too close. And yet that very awareness meant the opposite was happening—Lawrence had kicked the rule aside himself before.
Even Holo must have kicked at the stones along the path of her long, long life once or twice.
And yet none of that changed reality.
Holo had called Col a weight that anchored her belief in herself as a wisewolf, and she surely was not exaggerating. While it might be amusing for her to use the boy to tease Lawrence, she also did this out of self-defense—to make sure she never crossed the line. To hide the awful reality she understood but could do nothing about. As an excuse.
"Aye, we're all greedy, always running about in service of our own gain."
"On that count, I'm forced to agree. Of course...," said Lawrence with a trace of irony. "...Of course, if I weren't so greedy, I'd be able to buy you tastier food."
Holo laughed, tickled at the joke, then stood from the chair.
Her face was red, so she was probably too warm. As he had guessed, she opened the window slightly and narrowed her eyes in pleasure at the cool breeze.
"Mm. But is seeing my pleasure not in your interests as well?" Holo closed her eyes as the cool air caressed her cheek, looking like a purring cat. She then opened a single eye and regarded Lawrence with it.
Her movements were so perfectly performed it was as if she was watching herself in a mirror.
"If you were truly so easily bribed by food, then that might be so."
Holo closed her eye again at the counterattack.
Her ability to repeat a gesture she had made just seconds earlier, this time seeming to sulk, was amazing.
A few moments later, Holo was every bit the arrogant noblewoman. "And what other methods could you use?"
Lawrence remembered when a village with which he had once traded asked him to sell the wine barrels they produced to a nearby abbey that possessed a large vineyard.
The abbot there was a proud and stingy man, making all sorts of demands of Lawrence, who had to work very hard indeed to complete the sale.
Being a member of a wealthy abbey, the abbot surely felt himself closer to God than Lawrence and thus privileged to look down upon him.
Yet the wisewolf before Lawrence's very eyes hated being treated as the god she was—so why would she affect such haughtiness?
The abbot cared little for the losses of those who sold to him and was concerned only with his own profits.
So given that the starting conditions here were the opposite of that, then the conclusion was likewise the opposite.
Lawrence said what she wanted him to say.
"If food is out, then with words or manners."
"Neither of which is so very reliable in your case."
He had become so used to her malicious, fanged grin that it had even more charm than a normal smile. And if neither his words nor his manner could be trusted, there was only one option that remained.
In order to fully display its truth, Lawrence had to stand up from his chair.
Or perhaps remaining seated in order to avoid fleeing from Holo was the better option.
Both had their charms, Lawrence knew. He took a drink of his wine and replied.
"Or you could imagine you've been deceived and decide to trust both. They might well turn out to be genuine."

Output:
The words of Eve, wolf of the Roam River, worked to marvelous effect.
Holo glared at Lawrence out of the corner of her eye, her tail twitching in irritation. She had no means to counterattack.
It felt good to have, for once, the upper hand in their banter—better even than when he had teased the shop boy at the tailor's shop. Defeat turned the mightiest eagle into a pathetic chicken, and likewise, victory made the most timid mouse into a bold wolf.
Yet trueborn wolves were ever cunning.
"That is not what I meant to say," she said angrily, her expression lonely.
Where playful banter was meant to be a battle of logic and intimation, Holo's weapons were unfair.
If their exchange thus far was akin to a business negotiation, then what Holo had just employed had the power to transcend that.
So what was it that surpassed proper negotiation?
There in front of that window, Lawrence had said something unnecessary. "We have to be ready to run."
Holo's gaze was directed out the window, but her ears were pointed at him.
She did not bother giving voice to her frustration.
It was absurd to even think of winning against her.
"How about treating the loser kindly once in a while?" Lawrence stood and walked over to her. Having delivered his statement beside her, he then sat on the windowsill.
Holo chuckled soundlessly, then sat on his lap.
"The victor can say nothing to the loser."
"Saying as much while always having your way, you must really fear nothing."
Her ears brushed his cheeks, making him ticklish, as she leaned into him. This wisewolf certainly was full of excuses.
"Still, I suppose I can trust you at least a bit."
"Oh? Merchants may well seem sincere as they bow down, but inside they're sticking their tongues out."
Lawrence had to admit the words felt rather artificial, but in any case Holo gave him no quarter.
"'Tis true, men and beasts alike stick their tongues out when defeated."
"Guh..." Frustrating though it was, he had nothing with which to reply, so he slumped back against the windowsill.
Holo chuckled and spoke slowly. "But 'tis also true that neither you nor I are alone when defeated."
Given the events of the day, her words were heavy with meaning. Lawrence drew Holo into an embrace and replied, "I'll remember that."
Holo's tail swished, and she nodded slightly.
In that quiet moment, the loudest sound was that of Col's intoxicated snoring.
Remembering that Holo was every bit a wisewolf was effective when it came to avoiding shortsightedness, but whether or not that was a good or bad thing, Lawrence did not know.
At the very least, it certainly acted as an effective counterweight, protecting the delicate balance of the scales.
Holo smiled, her eyes closed; perhaps she was thinking the same thing.
Lawrence put his arms around her to more closely embrace her small body, and in that moment—
"Mmph," she muttered, sounding irritated as she looked up suddenly.
"Wh...what's wrong?"
Lawrence tried to keep his calm, but sweat broke out on his brow nonetheless.
Holo certainly noticed as much and grinned, her tail wagging. She then slowly rose, her ears busily rotating this way and that.
The reason for her suddenly darkened expression was soon clear.
"My. I suppose one's premonitions are not so easily discounted."
Lawrence quickly understood to what her words referred.
Holo directed her gaze out the window, and Lawrence did likewise.
"See, there's the master of that poor shop. What was his name again...?"
"Reynolds, eh?"
Lawrence spotted the hurrying form of a portly man in a too-small coat, trying to keep his distance from the drunkards as he made his way down the street. The way he hewed to the edge of the street while looking closely at everyone around him was obviously unnatural.
"'Tis a good opportunity for you to prove the courage of your convictions."
Spending no time wondering why Reynolds had come to the inn, Lawrence spoke into Holo's ear before she stood. "Make sure you pretend you're asleep."


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

Input:
The words of Eve, wolf of the Roam River, worked to marvelous effect.
Holo glared at Lawrence out of the corner of her eye, her tail twitching in irritation. She had no means to counterattack.
It felt good to have, for once, the upper hand in their banter—better even than when he had teased the shop boy at the tailor's shop. Defeat turned the mightiest eagle into a pathetic chicken, and likewise, victory made the most timid mouse into a bold wolf.
Yet trueborn wolves were ever cunning.
"That is not what I meant to say," she said angrily, her expression lonely.
Where playful banter was meant to be a battle of logic and intimation, Holo's weapons were unfair.
If their exchange thus far was akin to a business negotiation, then what Holo had just employed had the power to transcend that.
So what was it that surpassed proper negotiation?
There in front of that window, Lawrence had said something unnecessary. "We have to be ready to run."
Holo's gaze was directed out the window, but her ears were pointed at him.
She did not bother giving voice to her frustration.
It was absurd to even think of winning against her.
"How about treating the loser kindly once in a while?" Lawrence stood and walked over to her. Having delivered his statement beside her, he then sat on the windowsill.
Holo chuckled soundlessly, then sat on his lap.
"The victor can say nothing to the loser."
"Saying as much while always having your way, you must really fear nothing."
Her ears brushed his cheeks, making him ticklish, as she leaned into him. This wisewolf certainly was full of excuses.
"Still, I suppose I can trust you at least a bit."
"Oh? Merchants may well seem sincere as they bow down, but inside they're sticking their tongues out."
Lawrence had to admit the words felt rather artificial, but in any case Holo gave him no quarter.
"'Tis true, men and beasts alike stick their tongues out when defeated."
"Guh..." Frustrating though it was, he had nothing with which to reply, so he slumped back against the windowsill.
Holo chuckled and spoke slowly. "But 'tis also true that neither you nor I are alone when defeated."
Given the events of the day, her words were heavy with meaning. Lawrence drew Holo into an embrace and replied, "I'll remember that."
Holo's tail swished, and she nodded slightly.
In that quiet moment, the loudest sound was that of Col's intoxicated snoring.
Remembering that Holo was every bit a wisewolf was effective when it came to avoiding shortsightedness, but whether or not that was a good or bad thing, Lawrence did not know.
At the very least, it certainly acted as an effective counterweight, protecting the delicate balance of the scales.
Holo smiled, her eyes closed; perhaps she was thinking the same thing.
Lawrence put his arms around her to more closely embrace her small body, and in that moment—
"Mmph," she muttered, sounding irritated as she looked up suddenly.
"Wh...what's wrong?"
Lawrence tried to keep his calm, but sweat broke out on his brow nonetheless.
Holo certainly noticed as much and grinned, her tail wagging. She then slowly rose, her ears busily rotating this way and that.
The reason for her suddenly darkened expression was soon clear.
"My. I suppose one's premonitions are not so easily discounted."
Lawrence quickly understood to what her words referred.
Holo directed her gaze out the window, and Lawrence did likewise.
"See, there's the master of that poor shop. What was his name again...?"
"Reynolds, eh?"
Lawrence spotted the hurrying form of a portly man in a too-small coat, trying to keep his distance from the drunkards as he made his way down the street. The way he hewed to the edge of the street while looking closely at everyone around him was obviously unnatural.
"'Tis a good opportunity for you to prove the courage of your convictions."
Spending no time wondering why Reynolds had come to the inn, Lawrence spoke into Holo's ear before she stood. "Make sure you pretend you're asleep."

Output:
Putting many meanings into a single word was her specialty.
Lawrence knew that no matter how he answered, he would be trapped, so he brushed her tail roughly aside as his only reply.
While the fewer people who knew about it made a secret more secure, it was another story entirely when one of the privy parties showed up himself for a secret late-night meeting.
It was the antithesis of Eve and Kieman's approach of sending others to contact Lawrence.
"Apologies for the late hour." Despite the cold, Reynolds's paunch made his breath run ragged and forehead sweaty, although some of that could be ascribed to nervousness.
His voice was low, but not out of consideration for Holo and Col, who were curled up together on the bed, sleeping.
"Shall we speak outside?" Lawrence asked, but Reynolds glanced over his shoulder at this, then looked back and shook this head. It was very like a town merchant not to want to speak of secrets out in the open.
By contrast, a traveling merchant preferred to have sensitive conversations out in a wide field or on a lonely road where a simple look was all it took to confirm that no one was listening. Indoors, there was no way to know who had his ear pressed to the wall in the next room over.
"Some wine?" Lawrence asked, gesturing to a chair.
Reynolds shook his head briefly but then reconsidered. "Perhaps just a bit. When I see that you're not drunk, Mr. Lawrence, it makes me think that coming here wasn't a waste of my time."
A traveler's room at an inn was not lavish enough to properly entertain a guest. Lawrence poured some wine into the cup Col had used and offered it to Reynolds, who smiled ingratiatingly.
"You're here about the narwhal...correct?"
For Reynolds to come all the way out to the inn at this hour, he must have concluded that Lawrence knew about it.
Lawrence had come to Reynolds's shop bearing Eve's introduction letter and asking about wolf bones—and anyone formidable enough to get such a letter from Eve would have had to know about the source of the commotion in Kerube.
At the same time, there was little point in asking how Reynolds had discovered where they were staying. Even Kieman, all the way across the river, had been able to uncover that much.
To a town merchant, the streets of their homes were like the strands of a spiderweb.
Lawrence mulled the situation over as he sat, and Reynolds nodded.
But now Reynolds was in the weaker position. "I haven't the faintest notion of what's happening. I was hoping that you, Mr. Lawrence, might know something."
Lawrence had once heard a drunken merchant long ago say that a woman could look so different in candlelight than in the midday sun, one could hardly believe it was the same person—and it was true for merchants, too.
Reynolds was acting every bit the panicked owner of a sad little shop, but no matter how panicked he might have been, there was still no reason for him to come to the inn room of Lawrence, a mere traveling merchant. And certainly not at this hour.
Much was being omitted from Reynolds's words.
"Unfortunately, I don't know any details myself..."
"You've been to the Lydon Inn, haven't you?"
If he was getting to the point so quickly, he must have been running out of time—or perhaps this was just how Reynolds did business.
Lawrence slowly turned his gaze elsewhere, then just as slowly, moved it back to Reynolds. "The Lydon Inn?"
He was better at deception now, probably a result of having spent so much time with Holo, who was first-rate at it.
Reynolds's expression froze, probably out of surprise that Lawrence was proving harder to take off guard than he had anticipated. "Lies benefit neither of us. I already know you've been there."
Reynolds set his cup down and opened his palms to Lawrence. It was a gesture inviting mutual openness but held no special meaning between merchants.
Lawrence thought.


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

Input:
Putting many meanings into a single word was her specialty.
Lawrence knew that no matter how he answered, he would be trapped, so he brushed her tail roughly aside as his only reply.
While the fewer people who knew about it made a secret more secure, it was another story entirely when one of the privy parties showed up himself for a secret late-night meeting.
It was the antithesis of Eve and Kieman's approach of sending others to contact Lawrence.
"Apologies for the late hour." Despite the cold, Reynolds's paunch made his breath run ragged and forehead sweaty, although some of that could be ascribed to nervousness.
His voice was low, but not out of consideration for Holo and Col, who were curled up together on the bed, sleeping.
"Shall we speak outside?" Lawrence asked, but Reynolds glanced over his shoulder at this, then looked back and shook this head. It was very like a town merchant not to want to speak of secrets out in the open.
By contrast, a traveling merchant preferred to have sensitive conversations out in a wide field or on a lonely road where a simple look was all it took to confirm that no one was listening. Indoors, there was no way to know who had his ear pressed to the wall in the next room over.
"Some wine?" Lawrence asked, gesturing to a chair.
Reynolds shook his head briefly but then reconsidered. "Perhaps just a bit. When I see that you're not drunk, Mr. Lawrence, it makes me think that coming here wasn't a waste of my time."
A traveler's room at an inn was not lavish enough to properly entertain a guest. Lawrence poured some wine into the cup Col had used and offered it to Reynolds, who smiled ingratiatingly.
"You're here about the narwhal...correct?"
For Reynolds to come all the way out to the inn at this hour, he must have concluded that Lawrence knew about it.
Lawrence had come to Reynolds's shop bearing Eve's introduction letter and asking about wolf bones—and anyone formidable enough to get such a letter from Eve would have had to know about the source of the commotion in Kerube.
At the same time, there was little point in asking how Reynolds had discovered where they were staying. Even Kieman, all the way across the river, had been able to uncover that much.
To a town merchant, the streets of their homes were like the strands of a spiderweb.
Lawrence mulled the situation over as he sat, and Reynolds nodded.
But now Reynolds was in the weaker position. "I haven't the faintest notion of what's happening. I was hoping that you, Mr. Lawrence, might know something."
Lawrence had once heard a drunken merchant long ago say that a woman could look so different in candlelight than in the midday sun, one could hardly believe it was the same person—and it was true for merchants, too.
Reynolds was acting every bit the panicked owner of a sad little shop, but no matter how panicked he might have been, there was still no reason for him to come to the inn room of Lawrence, a mere traveling merchant. And certainly not at this hour.
Much was being omitted from Reynolds's words.
"Unfortunately, I don't know any details myself..."
"You've been to the Lydon Inn, haven't you?"
If he was getting to the point so quickly, he must have been running out of time—or perhaps this was just how Reynolds did business.
Lawrence slowly turned his gaze elsewhere, then just as slowly, moved it back to Reynolds. "The Lydon Inn?"
He was better at deception now, probably a result of having spent so much time with Holo, who was first-rate at it.
Reynolds's expression froze, probably out of surprise that Lawrence was proving harder to take off guard than he had anticipated. "Lies benefit neither of us. I already know you've been there."
Reynolds set his cup down and opened his palms to Lawrence. It was a gesture inviting mutual openness but held no special meaning between merchants.
Lawrence thought.

Output:
"I suppose if I were to say I went there for some friendly chatter, you wouldn't believe me, would you, Mr. Reynolds?" queried Lawrence with a small, tired sigh.
Even Holo, who could see through any lie, would have trouble determining the truth of those words. There were any number of ways to phrase things that made them mysterious, both truth and falsehood at once.
Lawrence continued. "I learned of the situation in the town from Eve. What I told her then was that she had quite a lot of nerve to summon me in such an easily misunderstood manner to such an easily misunderstood place amid such unrest."
The sound of rustling cloth came from the direction of the bed. It was Holo turning over—probably to hide the grin on her face.
Lawrence continued.
"Eve seems to be in a unique position in this town, and despite the placid expression on her face, her mind must be swirling with notions. But she did not see fit to tell me about them."
"Truly?" replied Reynolds immediately, his eyes widening with surprise.
"Truly." The more obvious the statement, the more persuasive it would be.
Reynolds peered at Lawrence, almost glaring at him, before finally relaxing and heaving a sigh. "...My apologies."
"Not at all. For you to be so worried, I assume you have some direct connection to all this?"
Changing the tone of the conversation was a common trick; Lawrence could not drop his guard just because Reynolds seemed to have relaxed.
"Quite the opposite. I'm worried precisely because I've been left entirely out." He sighed and shifted heavily in his chair.
Lawrence recalled that the Jean Company was having its profits sucked away by the landlords of the town.
In business, when things are going well, sometimes still more lucrative opportunities arise—but the opposite also holds true.
In such times, it is all too common to have friends abandon you. Such moments are frequent in the travels of merchants, whose lives often hang in the balance.
And Reynolds had conducted a successful business on the otherwise poorer north side of town, which had surely made him few friends—and now he lacked even the funds to gain support.
It was clear that when things came to a head, he would be left on his own.
"Still, I'm sure you've heard, haven't you? I've a good connection with the powerful men of this town," said Reynolds.
It would have been better for him if he had intended that remark simply to make himself sound more important. But the statement was heavy with implication. Reynolds had concluded that Lawrence had learned quite a bit about the town's situation from Eve.
Given that, if he had gone so far as to sneak all the way out here in the middle of the night to talk about the narwhal, then Lawrence could make a guess as to what he was thinking—essentially, either Eve would be an important figure in the tumult surrounding the narwhal or was at least in a position to gather information about it.
And many of the things Eve had revealed in her one-sided grumbling to Lawrence earlier in the day now gained the tint of truth.
"Given that you're in the copper trade, as far as that goes."
"Heh." Reynolds could not help but chuckle at Lawrence's roundabout statement, scratching his nose.
Lawrence had nothing to add and so sipped his wine. At length, Reynolds looked up and continued.
"Just as when you all came by to ask after the wolf bones, I thought maybe I could turn the tables," he said, rubbing his face.
Nothing is less reliable than a merchant's friendly smile, but Reynolds's smile seemed to lay his heart bare.
The Jean Company was still in dire straits, and Reynolds certainly wanted to free himself of the north side's yoke.
"I came with the slightest hope of connecting with the wolf of the Roam, but...heh, seems I've only caused a fuss," said Reynolds with a pathetic smile, his cheeks slackening.
Lawrence had nothing to say and could only smile in sympathy.
Silence then fell, which was broken at length by Holo's quiet sleep mumbling.


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

Input:
"I suppose if I were to say I went there for some friendly chatter, you wouldn't believe me, would you, Mr. Reynolds?" queried Lawrence with a small, tired sigh.
Even Holo, who could see through any lie, would have trouble determining the truth of those words. There were any number of ways to phrase things that made them mysterious, both truth and falsehood at once.
Lawrence continued. "I learned of the situation in the town from Eve. What I told her then was that she had quite a lot of nerve to summon me in such an easily misunderstood manner to such an easily misunderstood place amid such unrest."
The sound of rustling cloth came from the direction of the bed. It was Holo turning over—probably to hide the grin on her face.
Lawrence continued.
"Eve seems to be in a unique position in this town, and despite the placid expression on her face, her mind must be swirling with notions. But she did not see fit to tell me about them."
"Truly?" replied Reynolds immediately, his eyes widening with surprise.
"Truly." The more obvious the statement, the more persuasive it would be.
Reynolds peered at Lawrence, almost glaring at him, before finally relaxing and heaving a sigh. "...My apologies."
"Not at all. For you to be so worried, I assume you have some direct connection to all this?"
Changing the tone of the conversation was a common trick; Lawrence could not drop his guard just because Reynolds seemed to have relaxed.
"Quite the opposite. I'm worried precisely because I've been left entirely out." He sighed and shifted heavily in his chair.
Lawrence recalled that the Jean Company was having its profits sucked away by the landlords of the town.
In business, when things are going well, sometimes still more lucrative opportunities arise—but the opposite also holds true.
In such times, it is all too common to have friends abandon you. Such moments are frequent in the travels of merchants, whose lives often hang in the balance.
And Reynolds had conducted a successful business on the otherwise poorer north side of town, which had surely made him few friends—and now he lacked even the funds to gain support.
It was clear that when things came to a head, he would be left on his own.
"Still, I'm sure you've heard, haven't you? I've a good connection with the powerful men of this town," said Reynolds.
It would have been better for him if he had intended that remark simply to make himself sound more important. But the statement was heavy with implication. Reynolds had concluded that Lawrence had learned quite a bit about the town's situation from Eve.
Given that, if he had gone so far as to sneak all the way out here in the middle of the night to talk about the narwhal, then Lawrence could make a guess as to what he was thinking—essentially, either Eve would be an important figure in the tumult surrounding the narwhal or was at least in a position to gather information about it.
And many of the things Eve had revealed in her one-sided grumbling to Lawrence earlier in the day now gained the tint of truth.
"Given that you're in the copper trade, as far as that goes."
"Heh." Reynolds could not help but chuckle at Lawrence's roundabout statement, scratching his nose.
Lawrence had nothing to add and so sipped his wine. At length, Reynolds looked up and continued.
"Just as when you all came by to ask after the wolf bones, I thought maybe I could turn the tables," he said, rubbing his face.
Nothing is less reliable than a merchant's friendly smile, but Reynolds's smile seemed to lay his heart bare.
The Jean Company was still in dire straits, and Reynolds certainly wanted to free himself of the north side's yoke.
"I came with the slightest hope of connecting with the wolf of the Roam, but...heh, seems I've only caused a fuss," said Reynolds with a pathetic smile, his cheeks slackening.
Lawrence had nothing to say and could only smile in sympathy.
Silence then fell, which was broken at length by Holo's quiet sleep mumbling.

Output:
Lawrence didn't want to admit it, but for Reynolds to have come all the way to the inn at this hour, he must have exhausted all other options and come to the end of his rope.
The furtiveness of his visit was not because he needed to keep their meeting a secret, but rather that he did not want anyone to see him reduced to asking an outsider for help.
When this occurred to Lawrence, Reynolds's sagging cheeks seemed somehow very sad indeed.
"Not at all. I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help."
"And I'm sorry, too, that I couldn't give you any good answers to your questions."
They each smiled as though trying to be considerate of the other as they exchanged words across the table.
Their smiles turned sheepish at the sudden silence that descended. They shook hands.
"Should you meet the wolf again, tell her that Reynolds has a bone to pick with her."
"Yes...quite. I'll do that," Lawrence answered, forcing the smile from his face.
"Again, I'm truly sorry for the late hour," Reynolds said, making one last apology as he headed for the room's door, his footsteps much heavier than they had been when he arrived. "Good night to you."
In the dark hallway, Lawrence watched him put his coat back on. "Good night," he replied.
Reynolds descended the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
Despite his shop in the town and his monopoly over the copper trade, which would provide a lifetime of security, there was something about watching Reynolds recede that made the man seem like a defeated man, an abandoned dog. It was just too sad.
Lawrence returned to the room, sighing softly and sitting back down in his chair. His elbow on the table, he sipped some wine and reviewed the conversation in his mind. The weight of the situation bore down on him yet again.
Even Reynolds, a merchant with a fair amount of power, was that desperate in his pursuit of the narwhal.
Or no—perhaps there was a better way to put it.
He was this desperate for it.
"Well...time for bed, I suppose," Lawrence murmured to himself, blowing out the candle and making for his bed.
He passed first by the bed in which Col and Holo slept and then put his hand on his own bed. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up, sighing helplessly.
His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, but he could see Holo's open eyes in the bed next to his.
"So he's gone, has he?" she said, seeming to disappear for a moment, probably because she had turned in the opposite direction.
Lawrence closed his eyes briefly. "Sorry to put you through all that," he said.
"Still, I was relieved you did not speak up to me immediately after," said an amused Holo, sitting on the bed.
As Lawrence had guessed, Reynolds had probably crept quietly back up the stairs and pressed his ear to the door, in case Lawrence were to tell the truth of the situation to Holo or Col.
"I suppose I'm not surprised," said Lawrence, smiling. "I suppose I did well, then."
"Heh-heh. He was acting so truly sad that I nearly fell for it myself. I wouldn't have thought him capable of such guile!"
"Merchants carry items both hot and cold in their purses. While his feelings may have been true, he won't be giving up just yet."
"Merchants are rather stubborn creatures, are they not?"
"They surely are." Lawrence grinned. "But"—he added—"what do you think Reynolds's true goal was?" He ventured to put the question to Holo, since he had already figured it out for himself.
Holo's answer was immediate. "He wishes to contact the vixen. He'll do anything to do it."
"So that's really it..."
"What are you thinking?" Holo grinned maliciously as she pushed off the bed with her hands. Despite her question, her face made it clear she already knew the answer.
"Nothing. I only thought it was an interesting conversation."
Holo continued to smile as she flicked her ears, obviously able to tell the half-truth from the half-lie.
Merchants put both hot things and cold things in their purses.
At a loss for anything else, Lawrence put his hands behind his head.


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

Input:
Lawrence didn't want to admit it, but for Reynolds to have come all the way to the inn at this hour, he must have exhausted all other options and come to the end of his rope.
The furtiveness of his visit was not because he needed to keep their meeting a secret, but rather that he did not want anyone to see him reduced to asking an outsider for help.
When this occurred to Lawrence, Reynolds's sagging cheeks seemed somehow very sad indeed.
"Not at all. I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help."
"And I'm sorry, too, that I couldn't give you any good answers to your questions."
They each smiled as though trying to be considerate of the other as they exchanged words across the table.
Their smiles turned sheepish at the sudden silence that descended. They shook hands.
"Should you meet the wolf again, tell her that Reynolds has a bone to pick with her."
"Yes...quite. I'll do that," Lawrence answered, forcing the smile from his face.
"Again, I'm truly sorry for the late hour," Reynolds said, making one last apology as he headed for the room's door, his footsteps much heavier than they had been when he arrived. "Good night to you."
In the dark hallway, Lawrence watched him put his coat back on. "Good night," he replied.
Reynolds descended the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
Despite his shop in the town and his monopoly over the copper trade, which would provide a lifetime of security, there was something about watching Reynolds recede that made the man seem like a defeated man, an abandoned dog. It was just too sad.
Lawrence returned to the room, sighing softly and sitting back down in his chair. His elbow on the table, he sipped some wine and reviewed the conversation in his mind. The weight of the situation bore down on him yet again.
Even Reynolds, a merchant with a fair amount of power, was that desperate in his pursuit of the narwhal.
Or no—perhaps there was a better way to put it.
He was this desperate for it.
"Well...time for bed, I suppose," Lawrence murmured to himself, blowing out the candle and making for his bed.
He passed first by the bed in which Col and Holo slept and then put his hand on his own bed. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up, sighing helplessly.
His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, but he could see Holo's open eyes in the bed next to his.
"So he's gone, has he?" she said, seeming to disappear for a moment, probably because she had turned in the opposite direction.
Lawrence closed his eyes briefly. "Sorry to put you through all that," he said.
"Still, I was relieved you did not speak up to me immediately after," said an amused Holo, sitting on the bed.
As Lawrence had guessed, Reynolds had probably crept quietly back up the stairs and pressed his ear to the door, in case Lawrence were to tell the truth of the situation to Holo or Col.
"I suppose I'm not surprised," said Lawrence, smiling. "I suppose I did well, then."
"Heh-heh. He was acting so truly sad that I nearly fell for it myself. I wouldn't have thought him capable of such guile!"
"Merchants carry items both hot and cold in their purses. While his feelings may have been true, he won't be giving up just yet."
"Merchants are rather stubborn creatures, are they not?"
"They surely are." Lawrence grinned. "But"—he added—"what do you think Reynolds's true goal was?" He ventured to put the question to Holo, since he had already figured it out for himself.
Holo's answer was immediate. "He wishes to contact the vixen. He'll do anything to do it."
"So that's really it..."
"What are you thinking?" Holo grinned maliciously as she pushed off the bed with her hands. Despite her question, her face made it clear she already knew the answer.
"Nothing. I only thought it was an interesting conversation."
Holo continued to smile as she flicked her ears, obviously able to tell the half-truth from the half-lie.
Merchants put both hot things and cold things in their purses.
At a loss for anything else, Lawrence put his hands behind his head.

Output:
No matter how easily Holo might see through him, he still had his pride as a man—but Holo could no doubt already tell that was exactly what he was thinking.
She sat beside him on the bed, smiling a full, bright smile.
If he went along with her on this, no doubt the wisewolf would be very pleased indeed. But that was only as long as his curiosity was greater than his fear.
Holo had but to playfully tug at the facade and it would come tumbling down. It was too miserable to imagine.
If it came to that, this carefully balanced feeling of play would be destroyed.
"I'm going to sleep," said Lawrence, turning his back to Holo and lying down.
If the mood turned sour, he would be able to sense it.
But Holo only swished her tail once and said a quiet "Good night."
The sound of her rustling beneath the covers was strangely loud.
Holo would not break her favorite toy.
Which meant Lawrence's course of action was clear.
He loved seeing her happy, so he would be the toughest toy he possibly could.
The next morning.
Lawrence was no Holo, but he did have premonitions of his own sometimes.
One came as Holo put an extra-large piece of cheese atop the rye bread left over from the provisions they had laid in for their river journey; she excused this by saying she was finishing up leftovers.
Even Col had to laugh at her wolfing the bread down, until Holo's face went pale and her smile disappeared.
Lawrence wondered if she had bit her tongue, but fortunately before he could say so, he understood the true cause.
The innkeeper, who should have been busy seeing off departing patrons or tending to breakfast service, had come to visit their room.
Had that been all, Holo would have been content to cover herself with her robe.
But Lawrence caught a sudden, meaningful glance from her, and when Col opened the door, the innkeeper was indeed there—accompanied by one other.
"Good morning, Mr. Lawrence" came a steady, clear voice matching its owner's confidence.
Dressed impeccably, it was none other than Lud Kieman.
"...Good morning to you," replied Lawrence, by which time the innkeeper had already accepted a few silver coins from Kieman.
They were nothing to Kieman, who offered them by way of a vague apology for bothering the innkeeper during his busy morning. And although he made it seem quite natural, he was purposely allowing Lawrence to witness this display.
"I see you're taking breakfast. My apologies for the interruption."
Lawrence got the distinct sense that Kieman was thinking, You're a mere merchant, and yet you take breakfast like a nobleman? but decided he was being paranoid. From the perspective of people who lived in a town that had no tradition of breakfast, he knew they found the idea of eating just after rising to be bizarre.
"Not at all—we're nearly done. What can I do for you?"
There were a limited number of reasons why Kieman would go to the trouble of visiting after sending that letter.
Given that Lawrence had not fled, it was reasonable to conclude he was going to cooperate. But from Kieman's point of view, their current location was a den of treacherous temptations, and so Lawrence was quite sure they would be taken to the south side.
Kieman stared openly across the room, and with a voice like a child pleased at being able to deliver a clever answer, replied, "Might we conduct this outside? I feel as though a mouse might appear in here at any moment."
Lawrence did not have to wonder what he meant by that.
While mice might make pleasant companions for a traveler taking a lonely meal out on the road, for those who stored goods in town, they were practically demons.
Kieman was either worried about eavesdroppers or he sincerely hated mice.
"If possible, I'd like to leave the inn. As for your things...ah, they seem to be ready."
Lawrence knew perfectly well that the "if possible" was simply for politeness's sake. He had accepted that. He was, however, a bit concerned that his bags were packed a bit too neatly there in the corner.