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

Input:
That was about the end of the story, but such disturbances always leave their claw marks behind.
The consequences here were that, since the merchants had bought up the furs and fled, the town's money was now concentrated in the hands of a very few.
And whenever there was such concentration, instability came with it.
In this case, the value of the currency shot up.
"Since the riot, it's like the money's dried up from the town. There's no money anywhere you go. It vanished like smoke. Even if you allow that many trades happen on credit, you still need small coins. We're in real trouble," said the barmaid, as they talked in the tavern's cellar.
Its walls were lined with all the things Lawrence had been unable to buy in the marketplace.
"They say anything scarce becomes dear," said Lawrence.
"There's too much cash in the hands of the fur dealers. But because coin shortage is a problem for any town, it's not as though we can import some coppers. And now, even a dull copper is starting to look as brilliant as any gold."
During times of cash-only business, the clever ones would bet that the value of currency would eventually fall to its former levels, but while it was high, they would buy as many goods as they could.
And that was why the marketplace's condition was as strange as it was.
"And as a tavern, you can easily avoid any accusations that you're speculating. Very clever."
Lawrence wrote his prices on a wooden slate and handed it over. The barmaid wrinkled her nose and rewrote all the figures.
"Too high," said Lawrence.
"Feel free to try your luck in the marketplace." Constantly dealing as she did with so many drunken patrons, the girl was tougher than any grizzled merchant. Her position was strong—they had no need to sell Lawrence anything.
"Understood. But I'll be expecting quality."
"Heh. That's a compromise I can make."
Given the satisfied way she looked at the slate, it was all too clear how cheaply the tavern had originally obtained the goods. There was no winning against an opponent with cunning, capital, and nerve.
"Still, I'm a bit surprised," said the girl.
"Oh?"
"That you'd come alone."
"I've come alone more times than not."
The girl put her index finger to her chin. "I suppose that's true," she murmured.
"My companion told me not to think that a jewel can shine alone, though."
Hearing these words, the barmaid's smile was as bright as any gem. "So, will the next few days be all right?"
"Yes, if you please."
"And it would be best if you could take delivery in the morning, although not too early. We're a tavern, after all."
The girl seemed like the sort who rose with the dawn and immediately got to work, but there was a certain charm to the idea of her lolling lazily about in bed for a while, too.
"Understood. Not too late, not too early."
"Timing is of the essence, after all."
Lawrence mused that he had heard those words an awful lot recently, and then realized there was one more thing he had meant to ask.
"Has the letter come yet?"
"Speaking of timing, no, not yet. If it's urgent, I'll have it sent to your inn once it arrives."
"If you please," said Lawrence and took his leave of the girl.
She deliberately betrayed no particular regret at parting, not even looking at Lawrence. Instead, she vaguely waved the slate in his general direction.
Though traveling merchants made their living amid hellos and good-byes, they could not hold a candle to those who worked in taverns. The world was a big place, and there was always a bigger fish.
"Well, then," murmured Lawrence to himself. This had all taken longer than he had expected. He considered going to the stables, but then Holo's hungry, displeased face flashed across his mind. He sighed and decided to hurry back to the inn.

Output:
Perhaps the barmaid at the Beast and Fish Tail was not so bewitching after all—perhaps it was just the custom in Lenos. He thought about it as he made his way down the narrow alley, when he suddenly emerged onto a slightly broader street.
Directly in front of him was a very familiar building.
"So he really is out of business, eh?" It was old Arold's inn, at which Lawrence and Holo had stayed the last time they were in Lenos. Currently, its master headed south on a pilgrimage.
Originally it had been a busy tannery, but circumstances had forced it closed, and it had become an inn. The dormitories for the many apprentices had become rooms for travelers to stay in.
The permission to run the inn had been transferred to the Delink Company, who had held Holo as collateral, but Lawrence could hardly imagine them opening an inn. Once they sold the permit to someone else, they would probably sell the building itself.
The building must have seen many faces within its walls, but now it was silent, expressionless, like some cast-off shell.
Perhaps that was why.
Lawrence put on an obstinate expression and grinned wryly at no one. He was imagining himself opening up some small shop there. Nothing as big as Philon's general store, but perhaps a business serving road-weary travelers for whom the journey itself was home.
And taking care of the quietly thriving little shop would be him and one other.
"...How absurd."
Lawrence chuckled in self-reproach, then sighed a long-suffering sigh. It would surely be a mistake to imagine that he would be the only one who would be sentimental about the approaching end of their journey. Holo was thinking many of the same things, no doubt, but showing them less obviously in her manner and words.
Even so, if he continued his idling much longer, he would certainly risk her ire. And given that her nose was keener than any hound's, he would need to put a tight lid on anything that stank of sentimentality. Lawrence let his weakness go as though kicking the dust from his feet and resolved to put this inn behind him.
What stopped him in his tracks was the emergence of someone from the inn, which he had assumed to be deserted.
"Huh?" said the figure who stepped out of the inn, looking at Lawrence.
—which was probably Lawrence's imagination, but the figure did indeed make a face of surprise, although his mouth moved just slightly.
Lawrence himself was just as shocked. The man who had stepped out of the inn was one of the four masters of the Delink Company. If Lawrence recalled correctly, his name was Luz Eringin.
"So will that all be quite all right?"
From across the way, Lawrence could hear that same slithering, serpentine voice, but it was not directed at him.
Eringin looked over his shoulder and addressed the others who were following him out of the building.
"Yes, yes. Though the remaining goods will need to be inspected."
"I was told by the former owner that they could be disposed of."
"No, that won't do at all. They were probably used for smuggling. We'll consider disposal after they've been inspected."
Given the contents of the conversation, they were probably town officials, perhaps conducting the many verifications that were involved in the transfer of a permit.
"Will sir come by the trading company later? If you've time, I've just taken delivery of a fine vintage...," came the invitation from one of the officials.
Everyone wanted to earn the gratitude of a town official, but those officials only cared about the gratitude of men like Eringin.
It spoke of Eringin's position of strength in this town that he declined the invitation with a slight wave. "No, I really must return to my own company. I've got an engagement to attend to, so if you'll excuse me."
These last words were delivered while Eringin looked at Lawrence.
The official noticed this, of course, and also looked in Lawrence's direction, but expressed little interest in him. "Well, then," he said with a bow and walked off.


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

Input:
Perhaps the barmaid at the Beast and Fish Tail was not so bewitching after all—perhaps it was just the custom in Lenos. He thought about it as he made his way down the narrow alley, when he suddenly emerged onto a slightly broader street.
Directly in front of him was a very familiar building.
"So he really is out of business, eh?" It was old Arold's inn, at which Lawrence and Holo had stayed the last time they were in Lenos. Currently, its master headed south on a pilgrimage.
Originally it had been a busy tannery, but circumstances had forced it closed, and it had become an inn. The dormitories for the many apprentices had become rooms for travelers to stay in.
The permission to run the inn had been transferred to the Delink Company, who had held Holo as collateral, but Lawrence could hardly imagine them opening an inn. Once they sold the permit to someone else, they would probably sell the building itself.
The building must have seen many faces within its walls, but now it was silent, expressionless, like some cast-off shell.
Perhaps that was why.
Lawrence put on an obstinate expression and grinned wryly at no one. He was imagining himself opening up some small shop there. Nothing as big as Philon's general store, but perhaps a business serving road-weary travelers for whom the journey itself was home.
And taking care of the quietly thriving little shop would be him and one other.
"...How absurd."
Lawrence chuckled in self-reproach, then sighed a long-suffering sigh. It would surely be a mistake to imagine that he would be the only one who would be sentimental about the approaching end of their journey. Holo was thinking many of the same things, no doubt, but showing them less obviously in her manner and words.
Even so, if he continued his idling much longer, he would certainly risk her ire. And given that her nose was keener than any hound's, he would need to put a tight lid on anything that stank of sentimentality. Lawrence let his weakness go as though kicking the dust from his feet and resolved to put this inn behind him.
What stopped him in his tracks was the emergence of someone from the inn, which he had assumed to be deserted.
"Huh?" said the figure who stepped out of the inn, looking at Lawrence.
—which was probably Lawrence's imagination, but the figure did indeed make a face of surprise, although his mouth moved just slightly.
Lawrence himself was just as shocked. The man who had stepped out of the inn was one of the four masters of the Delink Company. If Lawrence recalled correctly, his name was Luz Eringin.
"So will that all be quite all right?"
From across the way, Lawrence could hear that same slithering, serpentine voice, but it was not directed at him.
Eringin looked over his shoulder and addressed the others who were following him out of the building.
"Yes, yes. Though the remaining goods will need to be inspected."
"I was told by the former owner that they could be disposed of."
"No, that won't do at all. They were probably used for smuggling. We'll consider disposal after they've been inspected."
Given the contents of the conversation, they were probably town officials, perhaps conducting the many verifications that were involved in the transfer of a permit.
"Will sir come by the trading company later? If you've time, I've just taken delivery of a fine vintage...," came the invitation from one of the officials.
Everyone wanted to earn the gratitude of a town official, but those officials only cared about the gratitude of men like Eringin.
It spoke of Eringin's position of strength in this town that he declined the invitation with a slight wave. "No, I really must return to my own company. I've got an engagement to attend to, so if you'll excuse me."
These last words were delivered while Eringin looked at Lawrence.
The official noticed this, of course, and also looked in Lawrence's direction, but expressed little interest in him. "Well, then," he said with a bow and walked off.

Output:
"And here I was sad to think the day would never come at all."
Eve might one day make a triumphant return, attended by underlings who, like Eringin, were accomplished in their own right. But given his own disposition, Lawrence knew he himself would never be such a one.
"Heh. Not every successful man is an ambitious one."
"I'd welcome such good fortune."
At Lawrence's words, Eringin briefly flashed the smile of a kindly old man, then cocked his head. "Well, men such as us must treasure our connections. If you've time, do come visit the company. We've got a fine vintage on hand." They were the same words the official earlier had used. His smile turned ferocious, eyes angular and glittering as though set in polished gold. "Well, I'll be off, then," he said and began to walk away.
He was dressed in the finest clothing: a long-sleeved coat, a warm-looking fur muffler, and even lightweight leather boots.
It was strange to see a man dressed as he was walking around without any attendants, but considering Eringin's business, that lonely-yet-opulent bearing suited him perfectly.
"I could never manage it."
There was not time enough in the world to count all the stories of brave, unyielding men who nonetheless could not defeat their loneliness.
Even Holo was no exception to that rule.
Those who attained the highest levels of achievement were the only ones who defeated it. In that sense, Lawrence had to afford Eringin a certain amount of respect as he watched the man walk away.
"Now, then," said Lawrence, as he began to walk—only to suddenly look over his shoulder.
He had the feeling that someone had suddenly ducked out of sight in the corner of his vision.
Lawrence took a long look at the mostly deserted street, but saw no one spying on him. He decided it was his imagination and walked back to the inn.
Upon returning, he found that it had not been his imagination and that Holo was most displeased.
Lunch was cheese over rye bread, with a small amount of boiled beans atop it.
It was simple fare that seemed likely to accompany a book on religious travel, but given that it brought an end to several straight days of Holo being able to eat her fill, she found it unacceptable.
Evidently, Elsa had taken the lead and ordered it when the innkeeper had come to check on them.
"Such food isn't nearly enough!" Holo's angry shout was, fortunately, covered up by the noisy clatter of a passing wagon, but that did nothing to erase her anger.
Her hood was sharply pointed thanks to her pricked ears, and her overcoat billowed around her like a noblewoman's skirts.
"I'm not sure eating luxurious food every day is such a good thing," said Lawrence, earning himself an immediate and sharp glare from Holo.
"Oh, so you're going to lecture me on this point as well, eh?"
"...I get it, I get it. Don't be so angry."
Holo seemed to have more to say on the matter but simply harrumphed and turned around.
Fran had been a mercenary chaplain who had taught of God with the scriptures in her hand, but her goal had not been to save anyone's soul; rather, it was to deliver last rites. Chaplains, who borrowed God's name to do their work, were often called by another name: reapers. Her teachings were meant very specifically for the battlefield.
Meanwhile, Elsa lived a thoroughly pure life by God's teachings.
For Col, whose goal was to learn Church law but whose studies had come to a halt because of a lack of funds, it had been an opportunity he would never have dared wish for. Lawrence felt it was altogether a good and proper thing for Col to learn as much as he could from her.
And then there was Holo, who herself was well aware of that fact. While she had made every effort to hand down a bit of her wisewolf's dignity to Col, even if she had not, she still would have had no desire to trample on his thirst for knowledge in this situation.


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

Input:
"And here I was sad to think the day would never come at all."
Eve might one day make a triumphant return, attended by underlings who, like Eringin, were accomplished in their own right. But given his own disposition, Lawrence knew he himself would never be such a one.
"Heh. Not every successful man is an ambitious one."
"I'd welcome such good fortune."
At Lawrence's words, Eringin briefly flashed the smile of a kindly old man, then cocked his head. "Well, men such as us must treasure our connections. If you've time, do come visit the company. We've got a fine vintage on hand." They were the same words the official earlier had used. His smile turned ferocious, eyes angular and glittering as though set in polished gold. "Well, I'll be off, then," he said and began to walk away.
He was dressed in the finest clothing: a long-sleeved coat, a warm-looking fur muffler, and even lightweight leather boots.
It was strange to see a man dressed as he was walking around without any attendants, but considering Eringin's business, that lonely-yet-opulent bearing suited him perfectly.
"I could never manage it."
There was not time enough in the world to count all the stories of brave, unyielding men who nonetheless could not defeat their loneliness.
Even Holo was no exception to that rule.
Those who attained the highest levels of achievement were the only ones who defeated it. In that sense, Lawrence had to afford Eringin a certain amount of respect as he watched the man walk away.
"Now, then," said Lawrence, as he began to walk—only to suddenly look over his shoulder.
He had the feeling that someone had suddenly ducked out of sight in the corner of his vision.
Lawrence took a long look at the mostly deserted street, but saw no one spying on him. He decided it was his imagination and walked back to the inn.
Upon returning, he found that it had not been his imagination and that Holo was most displeased.
Lunch was cheese over rye bread, with a small amount of boiled beans atop it.
It was simple fare that seemed likely to accompany a book on religious travel, but given that it brought an end to several straight days of Holo being able to eat her fill, she found it unacceptable.
Evidently, Elsa had taken the lead and ordered it when the innkeeper had come to check on them.
"Such food isn't nearly enough!" Holo's angry shout was, fortunately, covered up by the noisy clatter of a passing wagon, but that did nothing to erase her anger.
Her hood was sharply pointed thanks to her pricked ears, and her overcoat billowed around her like a noblewoman's skirts.
"I'm not sure eating luxurious food every day is such a good thing," said Lawrence, earning himself an immediate and sharp glare from Holo.
"Oh, so you're going to lecture me on this point as well, eh?"
"...I get it, I get it. Don't be so angry."
Holo seemed to have more to say on the matter but simply harrumphed and turned around.
Fran had been a mercenary chaplain who had taught of God with the scriptures in her hand, but her goal had not been to save anyone's soul; rather, it was to deliver last rites. Chaplains, who borrowed God's name to do their work, were often called by another name: reapers. Her teachings were meant very specifically for the battlefield.
Meanwhile, Elsa lived a thoroughly pure life by God's teachings.
For Col, whose goal was to learn Church law but whose studies had come to a halt because of a lack of funds, it had been an opportunity he would never have dared wish for. Lawrence felt it was altogether a good and proper thing for Col to learn as much as he could from her.
And then there was Holo, who herself was well aware of that fact. While she had made every effort to hand down a bit of her wisewolf's dignity to Col, even if she had not, she still would have had no desire to trample on his thirst for knowledge in this situation.

Output:
While she could bare her fangs and give the barmaid at the Beast and Fish Tail a good challenge, it was hard to do the same toward someone like Elsa. Elsa had no particular designs on Col, and no matter how Holo might snarl, she was the only one trying to compete.
For the proud wisewolf, it was an unbearably foolish position to suffer. And so she vented her frustration upon Lawrence.
"She just loves to flaunt all her so-called knowledge, lecturing Col on this and that all the way to the church and all the way back. And who was it that saved that village, hmm? It was me!" Holo grumbled, going on and on about every little thing that irritated her as it happened to come to mind.
Lawrence gave vague, noncommittal replies as he gazed out onto the town.
"And that's not the only part of my territory she's ruined! This is all because you said you'd put her up in our room! Are you even listening to me?" She stood on her toes, her face so close and so angry that Lawrence wondered if she were going to bite his nose.
Lawrence flinched away as he answered. "I'm listening," he said and was about to continue, but found himself at a loss for words and so gave up.
No matter what angle he might try to take, he was well aware that it would only serve to rile her up further. For once, Holo was genuinely furious beyond the means of logic or sense to assuage.
Her darling Col was being instructed by another woman. And whatever had been bothering him ever since Kerube, he had not confided in Holo about it. The previous morning he had begged Holo to let him go to morning prayers, and for some reason, on the way back his worries seemed to have lifted.
Holo, of course, had been honestly pleased that this was so. She herself seemed to feel that the approach of the journey's end was cause for happiness, but in point of fact was rather jealous of Col's attention.
So while he certainly understood her irrational anger at the intrusion of Elsa, looking at Holo, Lawrence could not help but smile.
"Is something amusing to you?" she demanded with fangs flashing keenly; depending on his answer, he would be spared no mercy.
Until just recently—and certainly when they had first met—Lawrence would have erased his smile and immediately betrayed his fear of her. But nowadays, he was able to meet even this mannerism with utter calm.
"Oh yes, quite amusing," said Lawrence, taking Holo's hand and pulling her out of the way of a wagon she was about to bump into. "I never thought I would see a wisewolf rage like this."
Holo tried to snatch her hand away from Lawrence's grasp, but Lawrence strengthened his grip slightly, so she was unsuccessful.
"Come now, don't be so angry."
His words were like oil on a fire, and Holo only pulled away harder, acting like a child throwing a tantrum.
Just as she was about to actually bite his hand, Lawrence let go and placed his now-empty hand on her head. "I wasn't making fun of you."
Holo brushed his hand away and glared at him, but Lawrence only repeated himself.
"I wasn't making fun of you."
The street finally arrived at the port district of the town, and the field of view was suddenly much broader.
The sailors and dockworkers seemed to be taking a post-meal break as they sat around the piles of unloaded goods and chattered good-naturedly.
"So what, then?" Holo's displeasure now seemed forced, as though she had lost track of what exactly it was she was so angry about. Either that, or she had never really known in the first place.
There was, of course, the anger she had over feeling that Col was being taken from her. But previously, such a thing would never have made her so angry, as though she had had a favorite apple snatched out of her grasp. If Col's attention had been stolen from her, she would first have accepted that reality, then taken logical, appropriate action given the entirety of the situation. And if, after all her efforts, Col did not come back to her, she would allow for that outcome and give up.


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

Input:
While she could bare her fangs and give the barmaid at the Beast and Fish Tail a good challenge, it was hard to do the same toward someone like Elsa. Elsa had no particular designs on Col, and no matter how Holo might snarl, she was the only one trying to compete.
For the proud wisewolf, it was an unbearably foolish position to suffer. And so she vented her frustration upon Lawrence.
"She just loves to flaunt all her so-called knowledge, lecturing Col on this and that all the way to the church and all the way back. And who was it that saved that village, hmm? It was me!" Holo grumbled, going on and on about every little thing that irritated her as it happened to come to mind.
Lawrence gave vague, noncommittal replies as he gazed out onto the town.
"And that's not the only part of my territory she's ruined! This is all because you said you'd put her up in our room! Are you even listening to me?" She stood on her toes, her face so close and so angry that Lawrence wondered if she were going to bite his nose.
Lawrence flinched away as he answered. "I'm listening," he said and was about to continue, but found himself at a loss for words and so gave up.
No matter what angle he might try to take, he was well aware that it would only serve to rile her up further. For once, Holo was genuinely furious beyond the means of logic or sense to assuage.
Her darling Col was being instructed by another woman. And whatever had been bothering him ever since Kerube, he had not confided in Holo about it. The previous morning he had begged Holo to let him go to morning prayers, and for some reason, on the way back his worries seemed to have lifted.
Holo, of course, had been honestly pleased that this was so. She herself seemed to feel that the approach of the journey's end was cause for happiness, but in point of fact was rather jealous of Col's attention.
So while he certainly understood her irrational anger at the intrusion of Elsa, looking at Holo, Lawrence could not help but smile.
"Is something amusing to you?" she demanded with fangs flashing keenly; depending on his answer, he would be spared no mercy.
Until just recently—and certainly when they had first met—Lawrence would have erased his smile and immediately betrayed his fear of her. But nowadays, he was able to meet even this mannerism with utter calm.
"Oh yes, quite amusing," said Lawrence, taking Holo's hand and pulling her out of the way of a wagon she was about to bump into. "I never thought I would see a wisewolf rage like this."
Holo tried to snatch her hand away from Lawrence's grasp, but Lawrence strengthened his grip slightly, so she was unsuccessful.
"Come now, don't be so angry."
His words were like oil on a fire, and Holo only pulled away harder, acting like a child throwing a tantrum.
Just as she was about to actually bite his hand, Lawrence let go and placed his now-empty hand on her head. "I wasn't making fun of you."
Holo brushed his hand away and glared at him, but Lawrence only repeated himself.
"I wasn't making fun of you."
The street finally arrived at the port district of the town, and the field of view was suddenly much broader.
The sailors and dockworkers seemed to be taking a post-meal break as they sat around the piles of unloaded goods and chattered good-naturedly.
"So what, then?" Holo's displeasure now seemed forced, as though she had lost track of what exactly it was she was so angry about. Either that, or she had never really known in the first place.
There was, of course, the anger she had over feeling that Col was being taken from her. But previously, such a thing would never have made her so angry, as though she had had a favorite apple snatched out of her grasp. If Col's attention had been stolen from her, she would first have accepted that reality, then taken logical, appropriate action given the entirety of the situation. And if, after all her efforts, Col did not come back to her, she would allow for that outcome and give up.

Output:
This was not baseless speculation, either. The very reason Lawrence was able to travel with Holo was regardless of how clumsy or foolish it made him look, he had always reached his hand out to her.
In her relationships with others, Holo always drew away first. She did it because she mistook it for the smart, noble thing to do, and because she insisted that it had served her well thus far—even though she hated being alone.
In her interactions with Lawrence, though, Holo had stopped wearing that mask.
"I just thought it might be nice for you not to act the wisewolf," said Lawrence, gazing out at the port. Holo looked wordlessly up at him.
But her silence was not because she did not understand what he was saying—rather, it was a look of shock that her secret had somehow been exposed.
"Though it is a bit silly of you to be so worked up over worries that your dear Col might be taken from you," Lawrence added.
At this, Holo seemed to find a solid reason to be angry, and she turned away, pouting. Yet as ever, her ears and tail were more eloquent than her tongue.
Lawrence said exactly what he was thinking. "The truth is, you want to be even more selfish, don't you?"
Holo was proud. And being proud, she was very stubborn about her position, her role. While she had hated being revered as a god, if she received no praise at all, the truth might well have been that her loneliness would crush her. Whatever she might say, Holo was a kind and serious wolf, who wished to live up to the expectations of others.
That was why, even after being faced by open hostility from the villagers she had aided through the centuries, she never once bared her fangs at them.
She was kind and responsible. And she hated being lonely.
Though she was pathetically trapped in a cage of her own construction, there was no personality that could have suited her better.
"No one would think less of you for being envious or for showing that childish attachment. This isn't your wheat fields. Nobody here is worshipping you." Lawrence paused for a moment before continuing. "You don't need to force yourself to simply endure things anymore. At the very least, I'm not thinking of you as some kind of god."
It was late to say so, given how many times by now he had seen her pathetic, awkward sides.
But even saying so, he knew that her habits and ideals would not change easily after so much time. Still, after so many misadventures with Lawrence, she had finally opened up to him, at least.
There was little he could do for her. But at the very least, Lawrence wanted to give her the push she needed to take that first step.
"So why don't you stop taking out on me the frustration of enduring all that alone, and just be a little more honest? I feel like that's more of what a wisewolf would do—"
He had originally meant it as a bit of a joke, but the moment he looked over at Holo, his mouth stopped moving.
Holo had pulled her hood down over her eyes. Her head was downcast, her shoulders drawn in.
"Ah..."
Holo was stubborn and proud, but for all that, her heart was quite soft and fragile. Everything Lawrence had just said, she had surely thought to herself hundreds of times. What if she had just wanted to vent her frustration at Lawrence?
His logic would have had the precise opposite of its intended effect. He would have hurt her instead of helped her.
Lawrence's mouth opened and closed, but no words came.
Holo's feet suddenly stopped in their tracks, and a cold sweat dripped down Lawrence's back.
People around them were watching.
Holding in his arms his great bundle of regrets, Lawrence dared come around in front of Holo and look under her hood—past the chestnut brown hair in its shadow.
Holo was drawn inward and her shoulders trembled, and beneath her hood, she seemed to be waiting for Lawrence uneasily.
"After all that talk, this is all it takes to fluster you? You're rather full of yourself," said Holo.


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

Input:
This was not baseless speculation, either. The very reason Lawrence was able to travel with Holo was regardless of how clumsy or foolish it made him look, he had always reached his hand out to her.
In her relationships with others, Holo always drew away first. She did it because she mistook it for the smart, noble thing to do, and because she insisted that it had served her well thus far—even though she hated being alone.
In her interactions with Lawrence, though, Holo had stopped wearing that mask.
"I just thought it might be nice for you not to act the wisewolf," said Lawrence, gazing out at the port. Holo looked wordlessly up at him.
But her silence was not because she did not understand what he was saying—rather, it was a look of shock that her secret had somehow been exposed.
"Though it is a bit silly of you to be so worked up over worries that your dear Col might be taken from you," Lawrence added.
At this, Holo seemed to find a solid reason to be angry, and she turned away, pouting. Yet as ever, her ears and tail were more eloquent than her tongue.
Lawrence said exactly what he was thinking. "The truth is, you want to be even more selfish, don't you?"
Holo was proud. And being proud, she was very stubborn about her position, her role. While she had hated being revered as a god, if she received no praise at all, the truth might well have been that her loneliness would crush her. Whatever she might say, Holo was a kind and serious wolf, who wished to live up to the expectations of others.
That was why, even after being faced by open hostility from the villagers she had aided through the centuries, she never once bared her fangs at them.
She was kind and responsible. And she hated being lonely.
Though she was pathetically trapped in a cage of her own construction, there was no personality that could have suited her better.
"No one would think less of you for being envious or for showing that childish attachment. This isn't your wheat fields. Nobody here is worshipping you." Lawrence paused for a moment before continuing. "You don't need to force yourself to simply endure things anymore. At the very least, I'm not thinking of you as some kind of god."
It was late to say so, given how many times by now he had seen her pathetic, awkward sides.
But even saying so, he knew that her habits and ideals would not change easily after so much time. Still, after so many misadventures with Lawrence, she had finally opened up to him, at least.
There was little he could do for her. But at the very least, Lawrence wanted to give her the push she needed to take that first step.
"So why don't you stop taking out on me the frustration of enduring all that alone, and just be a little more honest? I feel like that's more of what a wisewolf would do—"
He had originally meant it as a bit of a joke, but the moment he looked over at Holo, his mouth stopped moving.
Holo had pulled her hood down over her eyes. Her head was downcast, her shoulders drawn in.
"Ah..."
Holo was stubborn and proud, but for all that, her heart was quite soft and fragile. Everything Lawrence had just said, she had surely thought to herself hundreds of times. What if she had just wanted to vent her frustration at Lawrence?
His logic would have had the precise opposite of its intended effect. He would have hurt her instead of helped her.
Lawrence's mouth opened and closed, but no words came.
Holo's feet suddenly stopped in their tracks, and a cold sweat dripped down Lawrence's back.
People around them were watching.
Holding in his arms his great bundle of regrets, Lawrence dared come around in front of Holo and look under her hood—past the chestnut brown hair in its shadow.
Holo was drawn inward and her shoulders trembled, and beneath her hood, she seemed to be waiting for Lawrence uneasily.
"After all that talk, this is all it takes to fluster you? You're rather full of yourself," said Holo.

Output:
"Hmph," she said, pushing Lawrence aside and starting to walk. The careless, foolish traveling merchant had no choice but to follow after her. "I hardly need you to tell me such things. I'm perfectly aware of them."
Lawrence swallowed the retort that came immediately to mind, but could not quite help from saying something. "...If so—"
"If so?" Holo stopped again and turned to face him. When Lawrence's words stuck in his throat, Holo continued, closing in on him. "If so, I ought to just act as I wish, you say? Just throw all my pride and wisdom as a wisewolf aside?"
Her tone from under her hood was a challenging one, and the irises of her eyes were as red as the reddest, thickest wine.
"I have my own things to consider, in my own way. But I'm not so clever as that. You want me to be honest here, polite there, but I simply cannot. And anyway," she said, clasping her hands together behind her and looking off, "you're only asking what would be most convenient for you."
***
Anger shot down Lawrence's throat, as though he had swallowed something hot.
He had had no intention of speaking out of turn or saying too much. If Holo's attempts to act as a wisewolf should act were causing her suffering or making her angry, then she ought to discard the role. That was what he truly thought, and it had nothing to do with what was convenient for him.
"You know that's not true," he said.
Holo looked over her shoulder at him, those red-tinged amber eyes of hers taking a good, long look. They were not joking, nor teasing—but neither conceding defeat, nor full of suspicion. "Truly?"
So her words were his confirmation.
"Truly," Lawrence answered, and Holo looked at him as though she were staring right into his heart.
Holo closed the lids over her large eyes and made an innocent expression that looked almost sleepy.
Evidently to close your opponent's mouth, you needed only to close your own eyes. The moment that truth came to Lawrence, Holo's eyes opened and she suddenly smiled. "You are quite daring, though," she said.
"Huh?"
"Telling me to be more honest. Here and now, of all places." Holo looked smoothly ahead and smiled a genuinely amused smile. "You may as well have just set me upon them like a dog." Her eyes glittered maliciously.
"Ah—" It was all too easy for Lawrence to imagine Holo cutting in between the seriously lecturing Elsa and the passionately studying Col. "N-no, that's not what I—"
"So what did you mean?"
Lawrence was at a loss for words. He rubbed his forehead with his hand.
He wanted Holo to be honest. He wanted her to stop forcing herself to wear a mask. But the idea of her acting without any restraint at all made his stomach hurt. He could hardly blame her for taking his words to mean he wanted her to act however was most convenient for him.
But why had he even bothered trying to tell her not to force herself to do things? Lawrence thought about it and finally settled on an answer.
"...If I must choose between you doing whatever you wish or forcing yourself to simply endure, then..." He took a breath. "I'd rather the former."
Immediately, Holo's nails dug into the palm of Lawrence's hand. "You're being tricky with your words again."
She never overlooked such things.
Lawrence furrowed his brow, then soon gave up. If he did not say it, she would never forgive him. He looked down at her, exhausted. "I think you're much more charming when you're honest and free to do as you like."
Holo grinned. She was obviously enjoying his embarrassed face much more than his actual words.
"I think you're much more charming when you're forcing yourself." Her nose crinkled.
"I suppose I can't beat an honorable wisewolf."
"Heh." Holo smiled and faced forward. Her footsteps were light. "You're the one at fault for this, you know," she murmured.
"Huh?"
Holo's red-amber eyes flashed at Lawrence, and she looked at him as though relishing her own mischief. "No matter what happens after this, I'll be to blame for none of it."


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

Input:
"Hmph," she said, pushing Lawrence aside and starting to walk. The careless, foolish traveling merchant had no choice but to follow after her. "I hardly need you to tell me such things. I'm perfectly aware of them."
Lawrence swallowed the retort that came immediately to mind, but could not quite help from saying something. "...If so—"
"If so?" Holo stopped again and turned to face him. When Lawrence's words stuck in his throat, Holo continued, closing in on him. "If so, I ought to just act as I wish, you say? Just throw all my pride and wisdom as a wisewolf aside?"
Her tone from under her hood was a challenging one, and the irises of her eyes were as red as the reddest, thickest wine.
"I have my own things to consider, in my own way. But I'm not so clever as that. You want me to be honest here, polite there, but I simply cannot. And anyway," she said, clasping her hands together behind her and looking off, "you're only asking what would be most convenient for you."
***
Anger shot down Lawrence's throat, as though he had swallowed something hot.
He had had no intention of speaking out of turn or saying too much. If Holo's attempts to act as a wisewolf should act were causing her suffering or making her angry, then she ought to discard the role. That was what he truly thought, and it had nothing to do with what was convenient for him.
"You know that's not true," he said.
Holo looked over her shoulder at him, those red-tinged amber eyes of hers taking a good, long look. They were not joking, nor teasing—but neither conceding defeat, nor full of suspicion. "Truly?"
So her words were his confirmation.
"Truly," Lawrence answered, and Holo looked at him as though she were staring right into his heart.
Holo closed the lids over her large eyes and made an innocent expression that looked almost sleepy.
Evidently to close your opponent's mouth, you needed only to close your own eyes. The moment that truth came to Lawrence, Holo's eyes opened and she suddenly smiled. "You are quite daring, though," she said.
"Huh?"
"Telling me to be more honest. Here and now, of all places." Holo looked smoothly ahead and smiled a genuinely amused smile. "You may as well have just set me upon them like a dog." Her eyes glittered maliciously.
"Ah—" It was all too easy for Lawrence to imagine Holo cutting in between the seriously lecturing Elsa and the passionately studying Col. "N-no, that's not what I—"
"So what did you mean?"
Lawrence was at a loss for words. He rubbed his forehead with his hand.
He wanted Holo to be honest. He wanted her to stop forcing herself to wear a mask. But the idea of her acting without any restraint at all made his stomach hurt. He could hardly blame her for taking his words to mean he wanted her to act however was most convenient for him.
But why had he even bothered trying to tell her not to force herself to do things? Lawrence thought about it and finally settled on an answer.
"...If I must choose between you doing whatever you wish or forcing yourself to simply endure, then..." He took a breath. "I'd rather the former."
Immediately, Holo's nails dug into the palm of Lawrence's hand. "You're being tricky with your words again."
She never overlooked such things.
Lawrence furrowed his brow, then soon gave up. If he did not say it, she would never forgive him. He looked down at her, exhausted. "I think you're much more charming when you're honest and free to do as you like."
Holo grinned. She was obviously enjoying his embarrassed face much more than his actual words.
"I think you're much more charming when you're forcing yourself." Her nose crinkled.
"I suppose I can't beat an honorable wisewolf."
"Heh." Holo smiled and faced forward. Her footsteps were light. "You're the one at fault for this, you know," she murmured.
"Huh?"
Holo's red-amber eyes flashed at Lawrence, and she looked at him as though relishing her own mischief. "No matter what happens after this, I'll be to blame for none of it."

Output:
Holo giggled. "'Twas a jest, you fool!" She began to stride delightedly away. After Lawrence stumbled in his hurry to follow her, she continued. "Still, 'tis well for once, in such a long life, not to be thinking on past and future."
She flashed her fangs in a charming grin.
***
Finally visiting his old partner in the stables, Lawrence stood in front of the home.
At first, the horse had stuck his nose irritably into the barrel of fodder. But then, slowly, he had raised his head, regarding Lawrence with large black eyes—only to snort petulantly.
"He's done splendidly. And eaten enough for that, to be sure," said the stable master with a proud smile, almost as though he were talking about his own horse.
Horses were not cheap. If Lawrence had to leave his in the care of another, it was good that he was being treated as one of the stable master's own.
"Quite, and I'm always having to bargain with him over how much I have to feed him to get him to walk a few more steps."
"I see. So you get plenty of negotiation practice while out on the road, eh?" In the cold season, a sunny afternoon like this one put everyone in high spirits.
After both men laughed at the joke, Lawrence mentioned that he expected to be leaving in the next few days, and thus asked that the stable master not rent his horse out to anyone else. "And there's no need to let him eat too much."
"Ah, so you'll have a better place to bargain from on your last day, eh?"
Whether it was just a joke, or a shield to guard against a surprise jab, or (most likely) both, Lawrence laughed and waved his hand lightly. "I'll leave him to you for the next few days."
"It's always a pleasure to take care of a fine horse."
In the time Lawrence was talking to the stable master, several other people had come and gone looking to rent a horse or leave theirs for a day. Most of them seemed to be known to the stable master, and the apprentices treated them with familiarity. In most shops, the owner dealt only with the regulars, leaving the first-time customers to his apprentices, but a stable was just the opposite. During a journey, one literally entrusted one's life to a horse, so the stable master had to treat first-time customers with the utmost seriousness. Once trust was established, they would come back.
And just as goods varied from region to region, so did practices from trade to trade.
"I suppose that's most of the major preparations, then," said Lawrence as he ticked them off his fingers. Holo had turned away from the horse as he spoke to face Lawrence. Normally her view of the animal was from the driver's seat, so perhaps it was novel for her to regard him from the front.
The horse, too, seemed to have an opinion on Holo, and the two had regarded each other for a moment.
The stable master had laughed and said that the two seemed to be having some sort of conversation—and perhaps they had. Once Holo had finally stepped back from the horse, Lawrence asked.
"Talking about the state of the world with him, were you?"
"Mm? Oh, aye. We've both been put up as collateral before, so we were simply commiserating."
When a traveling merchant's tool broke, it was fixed and reused until it was so worn down there was nothing left. Food was eaten crusty and moldy until it simply could not be kept down.
And in Holo's case, when she bore even a single grudge, she would complain about it a hundred times. Moreover, most of her grudges were not even real grudges.
Lawrence made an exasperated face, at which Holo happily took his arm. She was in good spirits, as though the trouble with Col had been forgotten.
"So, what next? Foodstuffs, mayhaps?"
"I've already taken care of our food. All that's left is fuel, money changing, and perhaps I ought to have my knife sharpened. Anyway, there's nothing left of much interest to you."
Lawrence had expected her to make a theatrically bored face, but she did not seem particularly bothered. He had thought she would be angry about the food, but she let it pass.


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

Input:
Holo giggled. "'Twas a jest, you fool!" She began to stride delightedly away. After Lawrence stumbled in his hurry to follow her, she continued. "Still, 'tis well for once, in such a long life, not to be thinking on past and future."
She flashed her fangs in a charming grin.
***
Finally visiting his old partner in the stables, Lawrence stood in front of the home.
At first, the horse had stuck his nose irritably into the barrel of fodder. But then, slowly, he had raised his head, regarding Lawrence with large black eyes—only to snort petulantly.
"He's done splendidly. And eaten enough for that, to be sure," said the stable master with a proud smile, almost as though he were talking about his own horse.
Horses were not cheap. If Lawrence had to leave his in the care of another, it was good that he was being treated as one of the stable master's own.
"Quite, and I'm always having to bargain with him over how much I have to feed him to get him to walk a few more steps."
"I see. So you get plenty of negotiation practice while out on the road, eh?" In the cold season, a sunny afternoon like this one put everyone in high spirits.
After both men laughed at the joke, Lawrence mentioned that he expected to be leaving in the next few days, and thus asked that the stable master not rent his horse out to anyone else. "And there's no need to let him eat too much."
"Ah, so you'll have a better place to bargain from on your last day, eh?"
Whether it was just a joke, or a shield to guard against a surprise jab, or (most likely) both, Lawrence laughed and waved his hand lightly. "I'll leave him to you for the next few days."
"It's always a pleasure to take care of a fine horse."
In the time Lawrence was talking to the stable master, several other people had come and gone looking to rent a horse or leave theirs for a day. Most of them seemed to be known to the stable master, and the apprentices treated them with familiarity. In most shops, the owner dealt only with the regulars, leaving the first-time customers to his apprentices, but a stable was just the opposite. During a journey, one literally entrusted one's life to a horse, so the stable master had to treat first-time customers with the utmost seriousness. Once trust was established, they would come back.
And just as goods varied from region to region, so did practices from trade to trade.
"I suppose that's most of the major preparations, then," said Lawrence as he ticked them off his fingers. Holo had turned away from the horse as he spoke to face Lawrence. Normally her view of the animal was from the driver's seat, so perhaps it was novel for her to regard him from the front.
The horse, too, seemed to have an opinion on Holo, and the two had regarded each other for a moment.
The stable master had laughed and said that the two seemed to be having some sort of conversation—and perhaps they had. Once Holo had finally stepped back from the horse, Lawrence asked.
"Talking about the state of the world with him, were you?"
"Mm? Oh, aye. We've both been put up as collateral before, so we were simply commiserating."
When a traveling merchant's tool broke, it was fixed and reused until it was so worn down there was nothing left. Food was eaten crusty and moldy until it simply could not be kept down.
And in Holo's case, when she bore even a single grudge, she would complain about it a hundred times. Moreover, most of her grudges were not even real grudges.
Lawrence made an exasperated face, at which Holo happily took his arm. She was in good spirits, as though the trouble with Col had been forgotten.
"So, what next? Foodstuffs, mayhaps?"
"I've already taken care of our food. All that's left is fuel, money changing, and perhaps I ought to have my knife sharpened. Anyway, there's nothing left of much interest to you."
Lawrence had expected her to make a theatrically bored face, but she did not seem particularly bothered. He had thought she would be angry about the food, but she let it pass.

Output:
"Still, I think it might be better to wait on fuel and money changing until the map arrives, and we know exactly where we're going. What say you?"
"Mm? Mm. I was thinking of wandering about a bit just to kill some time, but...," said Holo, her amber eyes then fixing upon Lawrence with alarming speed, "let's return to the inn and prepare for another battle!"
Even knowing she was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, Lawrence was not sure how much of that was a joke. Elsa seemed like she could be counted upon to be reasonable, but if provoked by Holo, her stubbornness might well flare up.
Holo's expression quickly returned to placidity. Perhaps she regretted having said too much.
Lawrence saw this and decided to leave well enough alone. This, in turn, made him wonder if he was not a little sick himself.
In any case, he thought he might speak to Col before this got out of hand. As the notion occurred to him, Holo stood on tiptoe and grabbed hold of his ear. "Are you thinking of interfering in what I've set my mind to, hmm?"
It seemed that wolves could be surprisingly persistent.
They returned to the inn, with Lawrence following Holo up the stairs. As they ascended, Lawrence caught a glimpse of her tail from under her cloak. This always happened whenever she was excited or in high spirits. In her giant wolf form she might have been able to hide it, but in this small body it was terribly clear. She hopped up the last step, and Lawrence sighed a tired sigh.
He did not believe anything he had thought or said was mistaken, and yet still he felt uncertain. That might have been Holo's aim, but in any case, Elsa did give off a stubborn impression, which frightened him.
Or was it that from the outside, his and Holo's relationship really did seem so tenuous? He had learned from his business that it was dangerous to ever consider one's own position as one safe from danger.
His arms folded in thought, Lawrence walked down the hallway as he considered these things. Holo skipped on ahead and put her hand to the room's door.
It was then that the delighted expression on her face suddenly vanished.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, just as a voice called up from downstairs.
"Mr. Lawrence!"
He looked back and saw that it was Le Roi.
Holo looked to Lawrence with a face as though she had had cold water dumped on her head, but Lawrence held up his hand to stop her complaint. "Please come alone" was written all over Le Roi's face.
"Go on in without me."
Holo's perception was just as good as any experienced merchant's, so while she was obviously dissatisfied with the situation, she finally nodded her agreement. "Make it quick," was all she said, as she did an about-face.
There was no question in her eyes, no sense of "Will you be all right on your own?" Perhaps her head was simply filled with thoughts of Elsa and Col, or perhaps she had come to trust him at least a little bit. Lawrence considered this as he descended the stairs.
Le Roi removed his hat apologetically and bowed.
Lawrence heard the door to his room close—a sound that struck him with loneliness—then addressed Le Roi. "What might be the matter?"
"Yes, well, it's no great thing...," he said, only to point farther downstairs. Evidently, he wanted to speak in the inn's tavern.
Lawrence had no reason to refuse, so he followed the man. While Holo had made no sound at all as she had walked the stairs and hallways of the inn, the floor creaked with every one of Le Roi's steps.
Surely the reason most kings were fat was to increase the imposition of their appearance.
The time being what it was, when they reached the tavern on the first floor, there was hardly anybody there. Two men who had the look of travelers sat at seats near the entrance, sipping their wine disagreeably and discussing something in low voices.
Lawrence and Le Roi sat in the far corner of the tavern, as far away from the men as possible, and ordered two cups of wine.


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

Input:
"Still, I think it might be better to wait on fuel and money changing until the map arrives, and we know exactly where we're going. What say you?"
"Mm? Mm. I was thinking of wandering about a bit just to kill some time, but...," said Holo, her amber eyes then fixing upon Lawrence with alarming speed, "let's return to the inn and prepare for another battle!"
Even knowing she was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, Lawrence was not sure how much of that was a joke. Elsa seemed like she could be counted upon to be reasonable, but if provoked by Holo, her stubbornness might well flare up.
Holo's expression quickly returned to placidity. Perhaps she regretted having said too much.
Lawrence saw this and decided to leave well enough alone. This, in turn, made him wonder if he was not a little sick himself.
In any case, he thought he might speak to Col before this got out of hand. As the notion occurred to him, Holo stood on tiptoe and grabbed hold of his ear. "Are you thinking of interfering in what I've set my mind to, hmm?"
It seemed that wolves could be surprisingly persistent.
They returned to the inn, with Lawrence following Holo up the stairs. As they ascended, Lawrence caught a glimpse of her tail from under her cloak. This always happened whenever she was excited or in high spirits. In her giant wolf form she might have been able to hide it, but in this small body it was terribly clear. She hopped up the last step, and Lawrence sighed a tired sigh.
He did not believe anything he had thought or said was mistaken, and yet still he felt uncertain. That might have been Holo's aim, but in any case, Elsa did give off a stubborn impression, which frightened him.
Or was it that from the outside, his and Holo's relationship really did seem so tenuous? He had learned from his business that it was dangerous to ever consider one's own position as one safe from danger.
His arms folded in thought, Lawrence walked down the hallway as he considered these things. Holo skipped on ahead and put her hand to the room's door.
It was then that the delighted expression on her face suddenly vanished.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, just as a voice called up from downstairs.
"Mr. Lawrence!"
He looked back and saw that it was Le Roi.
Holo looked to Lawrence with a face as though she had had cold water dumped on her head, but Lawrence held up his hand to stop her complaint. "Please come alone" was written all over Le Roi's face.
"Go on in without me."
Holo's perception was just as good as any experienced merchant's, so while she was obviously dissatisfied with the situation, she finally nodded her agreement. "Make it quick," was all she said, as she did an about-face.
There was no question in her eyes, no sense of "Will you be all right on your own?" Perhaps her head was simply filled with thoughts of Elsa and Col, or perhaps she had come to trust him at least a little bit. Lawrence considered this as he descended the stairs.
Le Roi removed his hat apologetically and bowed.
Lawrence heard the door to his room close—a sound that struck him with loneliness—then addressed Le Roi. "What might be the matter?"
"Yes, well, it's no great thing...," he said, only to point farther downstairs. Evidently, he wanted to speak in the inn's tavern.
Lawrence had no reason to refuse, so he followed the man. While Holo had made no sound at all as she had walked the stairs and hallways of the inn, the floor creaked with every one of Le Roi's steps.
Surely the reason most kings were fat was to increase the imposition of their appearance.
The time being what it was, when they reached the tavern on the first floor, there was hardly anybody there. Two men who had the look of travelers sat at seats near the entrance, sipping their wine disagreeably and discussing something in low voices.
Lawrence and Le Roi sat in the far corner of the tavern, as far away from the men as possible, and ordered two cups of wine.

Output:
When Le Roi finally spoke, Lawrence had brought his cup to his lips three times.
"You have connections with the Delink Company, yes?"
Sitting at the table, Le Roi seemed shrunken in on himself, as though he expected to be scolded. His downcast face and pathetic, upturned eyes contrasted with the strangely accusing tone in his question.
If all of this was a calculated performance, he was a formidable man indeed. And Lawrence could only assume it was a performance.
If such a man got his teeth into him, there would be no escape. His pathetic display was perfect.
"Were you following me?" Lawrence asked, setting his cup down after a fourth sip and glancing over at the tavern keeper, who was writing something in a ledger.
After Lawrence had happened to encounter Luz Eringin in front of Arold's old inn, he had gotten the sense that someone was hiding in a corner of the street, watching. Assuming that had not been his imagination, it must have been Le Roi, who now sat in front of him.
"Yes. Well, Sir Eringin, actually."
Lawrence nodded but had absolutely no notion of how much he could trust this answer, given that he now knew that Le Roi was after the library that slumbered in the cellar beneath Elsa's church in Tereo.
Given that Lawrence had saved Tereo once before, it would not be at all surprising if Le Roi were trying to win him over, thinking to use him as a wedge to pry open Elsa's mouth.
"Might I ask why?"
At Lawrence's question, Le Roi swallowed. "I want to borrow money."
Lawrence was taken aback by the straightforward answer and looked evenly at Le Roi.
The man was clearly skilled at pacing a conversation. Lawrence found himself desperately wishing he had brought Holo along.
"I was following him around, hoping for some opportunity to approach him, when I happened to run into what I saw."
Lawrence set aside what Le Roi was saying and thought about something else. Le Roi wanted to ask him to introduce him to the Delink Company. "They're a troublesome lot, that company. Borrowing money from them, it's..."
That was as far as Lawrence got before Le Roi nodded his clear agreement. "I know. I've done occasional business in this town myself. I'm well aware of what sort of company they are."
Le Roi was, after all, someone who dealt with questionable people like Philon. Warning him was like delivering a sermon to a holy man.
And as Lawrence expected, Le Roi continued. "But that's the sort of company I want to borrow from, if I can."
"That sort of company?"
"Yes. The sort that doesn't care about politics, that's unmoved by faith. That pursues only profit. I can borrow only from such a place. Of course..." For the first time, Le Roi smiled an unpleasant smile and took a drink of wine.
There was no question this man had gone over his performance many times before, because it was as polished as a brass mirror.
"...if there's somewhere else that will lend me a thousand silver pieces with no questions asked, that's a different story."
Le Roi's eyes seemed very small, perhaps because his face was so large. At times the impression he gave off was like a small defenseless animal, but now he looked like some sort of insect as it hunted its prey.
A thousand silver pieces was surely just a figure of speech. Given Le Roi's tone, Lawrence very much doubted whatever he had in mind would not be settled with a mere thousand pieces.
"It's true I'm passingly acquainted with the Delink Company, but I don't think they trust me so much that I could get them on board with anything suspicious..."
"I'll pay you three hundred trenni," said Le Roi, then closed his mouth tightly shut after the brief words.
Lawrence tried to respond, but finally no words came out from between his opened lips. He had the feeling that Le Roi would have a response ready for any of the objections that came readily to mind. He would have to—three hundred silver pieces was a lot of money.


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

Input:
When Le Roi finally spoke, Lawrence had brought his cup to his lips three times.
"You have connections with the Delink Company, yes?"
Sitting at the table, Le Roi seemed shrunken in on himself, as though he expected to be scolded. His downcast face and pathetic, upturned eyes contrasted with the strangely accusing tone in his question.
If all of this was a calculated performance, he was a formidable man indeed. And Lawrence could only assume it was a performance.
If such a man got his teeth into him, there would be no escape. His pathetic display was perfect.
"Were you following me?" Lawrence asked, setting his cup down after a fourth sip and glancing over at the tavern keeper, who was writing something in a ledger.
After Lawrence had happened to encounter Luz Eringin in front of Arold's old inn, he had gotten the sense that someone was hiding in a corner of the street, watching. Assuming that had not been his imagination, it must have been Le Roi, who now sat in front of him.
"Yes. Well, Sir Eringin, actually."
Lawrence nodded but had absolutely no notion of how much he could trust this answer, given that he now knew that Le Roi was after the library that slumbered in the cellar beneath Elsa's church in Tereo.
Given that Lawrence had saved Tereo once before, it would not be at all surprising if Le Roi were trying to win him over, thinking to use him as a wedge to pry open Elsa's mouth.
"Might I ask why?"
At Lawrence's question, Le Roi swallowed. "I want to borrow money."
Lawrence was taken aback by the straightforward answer and looked evenly at Le Roi.
The man was clearly skilled at pacing a conversation. Lawrence found himself desperately wishing he had brought Holo along.
"I was following him around, hoping for some opportunity to approach him, when I happened to run into what I saw."
Lawrence set aside what Le Roi was saying and thought about something else. Le Roi wanted to ask him to introduce him to the Delink Company. "They're a troublesome lot, that company. Borrowing money from them, it's..."
That was as far as Lawrence got before Le Roi nodded his clear agreement. "I know. I've done occasional business in this town myself. I'm well aware of what sort of company they are."
Le Roi was, after all, someone who dealt with questionable people like Philon. Warning him was like delivering a sermon to a holy man.
And as Lawrence expected, Le Roi continued. "But that's the sort of company I want to borrow from, if I can."
"That sort of company?"
"Yes. The sort that doesn't care about politics, that's unmoved by faith. That pursues only profit. I can borrow only from such a place. Of course..." For the first time, Le Roi smiled an unpleasant smile and took a drink of wine.
There was no question this man had gone over his performance many times before, because it was as polished as a brass mirror.
"...if there's somewhere else that will lend me a thousand silver pieces with no questions asked, that's a different story."
Le Roi's eyes seemed very small, perhaps because his face was so large. At times the impression he gave off was like a small defenseless animal, but now he looked like some sort of insect as it hunted its prey.
A thousand silver pieces was surely just a figure of speech. Given Le Roi's tone, Lawrence very much doubted whatever he had in mind would not be settled with a mere thousand pieces.
"It's true I'm passingly acquainted with the Delink Company, but I don't think they trust me so much that I could get them on board with anything suspicious..."
"I'll pay you three hundred trenni," said Le Roi, then closed his mouth tightly shut after the brief words.
Lawrence tried to respond, but finally no words came out from between his opened lips. He had the feeling that Le Roi would have a response ready for any of the objections that came readily to mind. He would have to—three hundred silver pieces was a lot of money.

Output:
It was not a matter of how much money he was being offered.
He gave Le Roi his final-sounding answer, at which the crafty merchant immediately tried a different tactic. "I heard from Philon that you're heading north."
"—!" Lawrence looked up at the ceiling and knew that the battle was already over.
He brought his gaze slowly back down, and Le Roi wore the expression of a man who had placed a foolish bet and won anyway. "There's something the chain makers say. A chain can't be stronger than its weakest link."
That was why Le Roi had been waiting for Lawrence at this inn.
While Lawrence had been out with Holo, he had called on Elsa and Col and wheedled all the information out of them. Even if they had been on their guard about what they said, they would have had no secrets from a man like Le Roi.
And in all likelihood, they had not been particularly guarded around him to begin with.
As though to prove it, Le Roi began to speak in a relaxed tone. "I'm quite sure that nice people with strong feelings about the northlands will be willing to lend more than a little aid in what I'm trying to do."
Such roundabout words were rarely used in business. They made him sound more like a rebel leader trying to rouse his men to defeat some great enemy.
Le Roi pulled his big hands out from beneath the table and folded them together on top of it. They looked like a big ball of dough ready for baking.
Lawrence realized he was already in the oven. He would have to be careful, otherwise he would wind up with his face red and swollen and full of regret.
"So what is it...you plan to buy with this money?"
This was surely the question Le Roi most wanted Lawrence to ask. It indicated that he was ready to engage in negotiations.
Le Roi smiled, the creases on his thick face deeply shadowed. "A forbidden book." The short words gave Lawrence a chill. "A forbidden book containing knowledge of banned arts. That's what I aim to buy."
The bookseller in front of him had dealings with Philon, a general store owner who supplied mercenaries. Moreover, he had had a relationship with a towering man like Father Franz and was very shrewdly trying to obtain his library. He was greedy, but honest in his greed.
Lawrence could not imagine this was a joke or a lie, or some boring scam.
"Alchemy, then?" Lawrence asked.
His eyes never leaving Lawrence, his opponent shook his thick head, indicating a negative. "A mining technique."
If this had been a game of cards, this would have been the card that rendered Lawrence's hand meaningless.
Le Roi continued. "I imagine it would be quite bad if the Debau Company got their hands on it first."
Lawrence had heard from time to time of revolutionary developments in the fields of shipbuilding and metallurgy. They turned common knowledge upside down and evidently made the impossible possible. If knowledge was a weapon, then they were like magic spells. With such knowledge, a tiny sardine could become a great shark.
Because of this, books containing such techniques and the knowledge of its practitioners were not always used, but instead sometimes hidden away or destroyed, Lawrence had heard. Because, while a crown always stayed on a king's head, knowledge was like puffs of wool on the wind and could go flying off anywhere.
When it came to mining techniques, which could be used by a select group of individuals to immediately realize vast profits, the tendency of such information to fly was even stronger.
Lawrence found it easy to doubt Le Roi.
But if it were true, and moreover if the information in the forbidden book was truly revolutionary, it could not be allowed into the hands of the Debau Company.
The only people in the northlands who would welcome such a development were the ones who preferred long-tasseled rugs and stone houses to bountiful forests and mountains.
And Holo wanted to nap in the sun of her homelands.
But Lawrence knew he could not act rashly. He reminded himself of that, then spoke. "Let's hear the details," he said.


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

Input:
It was not a matter of how much money he was being offered.
He gave Le Roi his final-sounding answer, at which the crafty merchant immediately tried a different tactic. "I heard from Philon that you're heading north."
"—!" Lawrence looked up at the ceiling and knew that the battle was already over.
He brought his gaze slowly back down, and Le Roi wore the expression of a man who had placed a foolish bet and won anyway. "There's something the chain makers say. A chain can't be stronger than its weakest link."
That was why Le Roi had been waiting for Lawrence at this inn.
While Lawrence had been out with Holo, he had called on Elsa and Col and wheedled all the information out of them. Even if they had been on their guard about what they said, they would have had no secrets from a man like Le Roi.
And in all likelihood, they had not been particularly guarded around him to begin with.
As though to prove it, Le Roi began to speak in a relaxed tone. "I'm quite sure that nice people with strong feelings about the northlands will be willing to lend more than a little aid in what I'm trying to do."
Such roundabout words were rarely used in business. They made him sound more like a rebel leader trying to rouse his men to defeat some great enemy.
Le Roi pulled his big hands out from beneath the table and folded them together on top of it. They looked like a big ball of dough ready for baking.
Lawrence realized he was already in the oven. He would have to be careful, otherwise he would wind up with his face red and swollen and full of regret.
"So what is it...you plan to buy with this money?"
This was surely the question Le Roi most wanted Lawrence to ask. It indicated that he was ready to engage in negotiations.
Le Roi smiled, the creases on his thick face deeply shadowed. "A forbidden book." The short words gave Lawrence a chill. "A forbidden book containing knowledge of banned arts. That's what I aim to buy."
The bookseller in front of him had dealings with Philon, a general store owner who supplied mercenaries. Moreover, he had had a relationship with a towering man like Father Franz and was very shrewdly trying to obtain his library. He was greedy, but honest in his greed.
Lawrence could not imagine this was a joke or a lie, or some boring scam.
"Alchemy, then?" Lawrence asked.
His eyes never leaving Lawrence, his opponent shook his thick head, indicating a negative. "A mining technique."
If this had been a game of cards, this would have been the card that rendered Lawrence's hand meaningless.
Le Roi continued. "I imagine it would be quite bad if the Debau Company got their hands on it first."
Lawrence had heard from time to time of revolutionary developments in the fields of shipbuilding and metallurgy. They turned common knowledge upside down and evidently made the impossible possible. If knowledge was a weapon, then they were like magic spells. With such knowledge, a tiny sardine could become a great shark.
Because of this, books containing such techniques and the knowledge of its practitioners were not always used, but instead sometimes hidden away or destroyed, Lawrence had heard. Because, while a crown always stayed on a king's head, knowledge was like puffs of wool on the wind and could go flying off anywhere.
When it came to mining techniques, which could be used by a select group of individuals to immediately realize vast profits, the tendency of such information to fly was even stronger.
Lawrence found it easy to doubt Le Roi.
But if it were true, and moreover if the information in the forbidden book was truly revolutionary, it could not be allowed into the hands of the Debau Company.
The only people in the northlands who would welcome such a development were the ones who preferred long-tasseled rugs and stone houses to bountiful forests and mountains.
And Holo wanted to nap in the sun of her homelands.
But Lawrence knew he could not act rashly. He reminded himself of that, then spoke. "Let's hear the details," he said.

Output:
The only things left behind were two cups half-full of wine and Lawrence himself.
Now alone, Lawrence noticed the curious gaze of the tavern keeper on him, which he ignored, and looked up at the ceiling.
Having thought over Le Roi's proposition, he could not imagine it was a trap.
The river that passed through Lenos had two sources. One came from the Debau Company's base of power, and the other from the northeast region of Ploania. Le Roi claimed that there was a company in a town in that northeast region where the book currently was. It would have been foolish to bother asking, so Lawrence had not bothered inquiring as to the name of the town or the company.
Instead, he had asked how such a book had come to such a place.
Le Roi had simply answered, "There was an old abbey there."
There was an abbey that, after two centuries of history, was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. But upon hearing of its reputation for piety, a certain lord began construction of a new abbey. Thus, among the rubble of the old abbey was discovered the entrance to a cellar not even the abbot himself had known about, and from it was recovered a mountain of books. Most of them were written in ancient languages, and beginning with the lord's representative, none of the learned monks could understand them. Finally scholars were called from far and wide and asked for their appraisal, and in the end, most of the books were identified.
But even then a few remained mysteries, most of which were written in languages used by far-off desert kingdoms, and a few others were simply too old. Deciphering them required extreme effort, and the writing of the desert languages was worrisome. If, when translated, it turned out that the books contained something terrible, the abbey's reputation would sink into the earth.
Regardless of whether he was moved by such talk, the lord sold the volumes to book collectors in order to raise money for the reconstruction. And while the representative could not read them, he still copied the tiles down as best he could to create an index.
Some years later, the lord found himself in financial difficulties after giving a bit too much to the abbey and the Church. And a certain company thereupon made him a loan, taking some of his treasures as collateral. As the company sorted through each one, they came across the book in question. It had no value to the company, but a bookseller would know what it was worth.
And so they had sought the opinion of Le Roi.
The knowledge of the booksellers of the south far outstripped any scholar's. The scholars had to investigate every single line and word of the huge tome, but the merchants needed only the title and a brief summary. If the scholars knew the contents of a century's worth of books, the merchants knew the value of a millennium's.
Seeing the title of books he knew to be forbidden in the index, Le Roi immediately bought the index and began casting as wide a net as he could.
And then one of the volumes was caught.
Having survived because it was written in characters nobody could read, it described terrible techniques. But that was not unusual; such ignorance led to all sorts of mishaps—a cardinal might hang a painting in his chambers, not realizing it was meant as a caricature of the pope.
Le Roi had said that he honestly did not know if the company that currently held the book had realized its true value. From his tone, it was clear that he desperately hoped this was true. And while Le Roi seemed like someone who got easily carried away, he was, in truth, a very practical thinker.
In other words, even if the company did not realize what they had, if Le Roi had figured it out, then it might not be long before someone else did, too.
The information had come to Le Roi via many other people, and any one of those people might let it slip that Le Roi was looking for that book. Any savvy merchant who heard that would conclude that something of interest was happening.


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

Input:
The only things left behind were two cups half-full of wine and Lawrence himself.
Now alone, Lawrence noticed the curious gaze of the tavern keeper on him, which he ignored, and looked up at the ceiling.
Having thought over Le Roi's proposition, he could not imagine it was a trap.
The river that passed through Lenos had two sources. One came from the Debau Company's base of power, and the other from the northeast region of Ploania. Le Roi claimed that there was a company in a town in that northeast region where the book currently was. It would have been foolish to bother asking, so Lawrence had not bothered inquiring as to the name of the town or the company.
Instead, he had asked how such a book had come to such a place.
Le Roi had simply answered, "There was an old abbey there."
There was an abbey that, after two centuries of history, was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. But upon hearing of its reputation for piety, a certain lord began construction of a new abbey. Thus, among the rubble of the old abbey was discovered the entrance to a cellar not even the abbot himself had known about, and from it was recovered a mountain of books. Most of them were written in ancient languages, and beginning with the lord's representative, none of the learned monks could understand them. Finally scholars were called from far and wide and asked for their appraisal, and in the end, most of the books were identified.
But even then a few remained mysteries, most of which were written in languages used by far-off desert kingdoms, and a few others were simply too old. Deciphering them required extreme effort, and the writing of the desert languages was worrisome. If, when translated, it turned out that the books contained something terrible, the abbey's reputation would sink into the earth.
Regardless of whether he was moved by such talk, the lord sold the volumes to book collectors in order to raise money for the reconstruction. And while the representative could not read them, he still copied the tiles down as best he could to create an index.
Some years later, the lord found himself in financial difficulties after giving a bit too much to the abbey and the Church. And a certain company thereupon made him a loan, taking some of his treasures as collateral. As the company sorted through each one, they came across the book in question. It had no value to the company, but a bookseller would know what it was worth.
And so they had sought the opinion of Le Roi.
The knowledge of the booksellers of the south far outstripped any scholar's. The scholars had to investigate every single line and word of the huge tome, but the merchants needed only the title and a brief summary. If the scholars knew the contents of a century's worth of books, the merchants knew the value of a millennium's.
Seeing the title of books he knew to be forbidden in the index, Le Roi immediately bought the index and began casting as wide a net as he could.
And then one of the volumes was caught.
Having survived because it was written in characters nobody could read, it described terrible techniques. But that was not unusual; such ignorance led to all sorts of mishaps—a cardinal might hang a painting in his chambers, not realizing it was meant as a caricature of the pope.
Le Roi had said that he honestly did not know if the company that currently held the book had realized its true value. From his tone, it was clear that he desperately hoped this was true. And while Le Roi seemed like someone who got easily carried away, he was, in truth, a very practical thinker.
In other words, even if the company did not realize what they had, if Le Roi had figured it out, then it might not be long before someone else did, too.
The information had come to Le Roi via many other people, and any one of those people might let it slip that Le Roi was looking for that book. Any savvy merchant who heard that would conclude that something of interest was happening.

Output:
Furthermore, Le Roi revealed that he had tried to borrow money from Philon. And Lawrence now knew why that had not worked.
Just as the Beast and Fish Tail had stored up goods as speculation, Philon had done the same thing. That was why Elsa could not spend the night there. He had bought up so much that not only were his storehouses full, but his living rooms as well, so he had no cash on hand with which to make a loan. And even if he had had such cash, he would have used it to buy more goods.
"Can't blame me for finding the story a little too perfect," Lawrence murmured to clear his head.
There was a time when he would not have hesitated to take three hundred pieces of silver simply to make an introduction to the Delink Company. But now he had reasons to stay behind at the table when Le Roi left and to hesitate to agree.
For one, there was no guarantee that Le Roi was not connected to the Debau Company. And even if he was not so connected, once he got his hands on the book, it might well have ill effects on the northlands simply by being sold at all.
Essentially, there were times when a book was better off staying on the shelves of some collector who failed to understand its contents.
But if Le Roi's prayers were in vain, and the company in question managed to obtain a translation of the book, what would happen if they realized the value of its contents? Such an outcome did not seem unthinkable, but nor was it necessarily bound to happen. If a book was favored for whatever reason, of course there would be curiosity about what it contained. If it had not been translated, then the likelier reason by far was that it had simply been at the end of a long line.
Which meant that, so long as Le Roi could be believed, Lawrence ought to help him as much as he could.
But that was not the only problem he faced.
If Lawrence were to introduce Le Roi to the Delink Company, he would then be vouching for Le Roi's trustworthiness. That was what an introduction was: the introducing party's guarantee that this person was trustworthy. If the person he introduced was scheming to swindle the Delink Company, the blame would fall on Lawrence, who had made the introduction. And he did not want to imagine what earning the ire of a company like that would mean.
If he got involved in this, he would need to watch Le Roi very closely to make sure the man did not do anything stupid. He might just take the money and run.
If it came to that, it was sure to take quite a bit of time to remedy.
At this juncture, Lawrence did not know which company in which town held the book. But it was undoubtedly not a small company nor a small town, so he knew to narrow it down to larger towns. In which case, that could take well over ten days by horse-drawn wagon. Given the possibilities, it could take close to twenty days each way, if the destination were the capital of Ploania. It could end up wasting a month or even two months of his time.
By that time, the chill of winter would be beginning to thaw, and it would be the beginning of a new year.
The world would be starting to move again, with the snowmelt turning once more its waterwheels.
Lawrence was a traveling merchant who lived in the cycle of the seasons. He was no nobleman who could idle his time away, ignorant of the year. The trade route his master had passed down to him was artfully constructed to take exactly one year. He could afford this fool's errand to help Holo find her homeland of Yoitsu because it came during the winter, when the whole world slowed.
He wanted to throw everything away for Holo. But even so, it was a simple fact that he could not. Lawrence was a traveling merchant, and such a decision would not affect only him.


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

Input:
Furthermore, Le Roi revealed that he had tried to borrow money from Philon. And Lawrence now knew why that had not worked.
Just as the Beast and Fish Tail had stored up goods as speculation, Philon had done the same thing. That was why Elsa could not spend the night there. He had bought up so much that not only were his storehouses full, but his living rooms as well, so he had no cash on hand with which to make a loan. And even if he had had such cash, he would have used it to buy more goods.
"Can't blame me for finding the story a little too perfect," Lawrence murmured to clear his head.
There was a time when he would not have hesitated to take three hundred pieces of silver simply to make an introduction to the Delink Company. But now he had reasons to stay behind at the table when Le Roi left and to hesitate to agree.
For one, there was no guarantee that Le Roi was not connected to the Debau Company. And even if he was not so connected, once he got his hands on the book, it might well have ill effects on the northlands simply by being sold at all.
Essentially, there were times when a book was better off staying on the shelves of some collector who failed to understand its contents.
But if Le Roi's prayers were in vain, and the company in question managed to obtain a translation of the book, what would happen if they realized the value of its contents? Such an outcome did not seem unthinkable, but nor was it necessarily bound to happen. If a book was favored for whatever reason, of course there would be curiosity about what it contained. If it had not been translated, then the likelier reason by far was that it had simply been at the end of a long line.
Which meant that, so long as Le Roi could be believed, Lawrence ought to help him as much as he could.
But that was not the only problem he faced.
If Lawrence were to introduce Le Roi to the Delink Company, he would then be vouching for Le Roi's trustworthiness. That was what an introduction was: the introducing party's guarantee that this person was trustworthy. If the person he introduced was scheming to swindle the Delink Company, the blame would fall on Lawrence, who had made the introduction. And he did not want to imagine what earning the ire of a company like that would mean.
If he got involved in this, he would need to watch Le Roi very closely to make sure the man did not do anything stupid. He might just take the money and run.
If it came to that, it was sure to take quite a bit of time to remedy.
At this juncture, Lawrence did not know which company in which town held the book. But it was undoubtedly not a small company nor a small town, so he knew to narrow it down to larger towns. In which case, that could take well over ten days by horse-drawn wagon. Given the possibilities, it could take close to twenty days each way, if the destination were the capital of Ploania. It could end up wasting a month or even two months of his time.
By that time, the chill of winter would be beginning to thaw, and it would be the beginning of a new year.
The world would be starting to move again, with the snowmelt turning once more its waterwheels.
Lawrence was a traveling merchant who lived in the cycle of the seasons. He was no nobleman who could idle his time away, ignorant of the year. The trade route his master had passed down to him was artfully constructed to take exactly one year. He could afford this fool's errand to help Holo find her homeland of Yoitsu because it came during the winter, when the whole world slowed.
He wanted to throw everything away for Holo. But even so, it was a simple fact that he could not. Lawrence was a traveling merchant, and such a decision would not affect only him.

Output:
That meant he had determined to part ways with Holo once Yoitsu lay before them.
***
Lawrence closed his eyes and thought things over again slowly and deliberately.
His promise to Holo was to take her to Yoitsu. Either that or to part ways with her with a smile.
It was not to protect her homeland from all possibility of danger. Holo herself knew that to be impossible.
Lawrence drained his cup with a sigh and stood.
"Once you hear, you want to do something about it"—such had been Hugues's position, although he had covered his ears to the Debau Company's schemes. If there was nothing one could do, ignorance was better for one's peace of mind.
That was certainly the truth.
Although the sound had not bothered him at all when he had walked up with Holo, now that he was alone, the creaking grated on his ears. No doubt his face was creaking just as much, Lawrence mused to himself self-reproachingly, as he stood before the door to the room.
He took a shallow breath and opened it without much hesitation, ready to greet its occupants.
What kept him frozen there in surprise was the simple fact that he did not really understand the scene that greeted him.
"...What are you doing?"
In response to Lawrence's question, Elsa and Holo merely glanced at him. Only Col's eyes had any feeling in them, and that feeling was a deep need for rescue.
"Don't look sideways," said Holo, pushing his head with her finger, such that it pointed straight forward. Holo stood directly behind him, busily combing his hair with the comb she normally reserved for her own tail. What made Lawrence wonder if they were about to try cutting his hair was the blanket that had been wrapped snugly around Col's neck.
At a short remove from the two, closer to the wall, was Elsa, attending to some sewing task. Given that Col's upper body was now wrapped in a blanket, Elsa must have been mending his shirt. Her hand movements were quick and practiced, and when she occasionally shook the shirt out to make certain of her work, it was no longer in its former tattered state.
The optimistic way of viewing the situation was that Holo and Elsa could no longer stand to look at Col's pathetic state, and they were attempting to do something about it. But Lawrence detected a certain something else in the scene before him.
It was the same thing that had happened at the Beast and Fish Tail. He remembered himself, caught between Holo and the barmaid...
"Mm. Putting your fur in proper order makes you a different lad."
It was true that the constantly dusty Col looked markedly cleaner. Holo wore a very satisfied expression, her chest thrust out in pride.
But the next person to speak was not Col—it was Elsa.
"It will just be mussed again once he sleeps, so I don't see how there's much meaning in it." They were fitting words from someone who had received the truth of God and taught the path of righteousness to the public.
Elsa seemed to have finished her mending of the piece in her hands. While her face had its usual stoic expression, Lawrence detected a note of satisfaction in the sigh she let slip.
Elsa returned the mended clothing to Col, who tentatively took it and put it on.
***
Lawrence heard two silences.
One was that of Col, who stared at his shirt as though he could not believe what he was seeing, and the other was that of Holo, who was deeply unamused.
"No matter how fine the wine, if it's put in an old, tattered wineskin, it will break and spill. While looking fine isn't the most important thing, a container needs to be as sturdy as it possibly can be."
And just as Elsa said, now that he was wearing a well-mended shirt, Col had been transformed from an impoverished, suspicious errant student into a poor-but-trustworthy merchant's apprentice.