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

Input:
"I've never eaten one raw, but they're worth the trouble of cooking, that's for sure."
"Oh?"
"Pluck the feathers, remove the organs, debone the meat, then steam it with seasoning, boil the meat with vegetables, fill the bird with stuffing, then crisp the skin with hot oil, then roast it one more time with fragrant spices...Hey, you're drooling."
"Muh...mmph."
Lawrence had heard of this particular luxury dish, though he had never actually eaten it. But for Holo's active imagination, a secondhand description was more than enough. These were the only times she forgot her wisewolf's pride and stared up at him, her eyes imploring.
He had managed to become accustomed to this, having traveled with her long enough. And no amount of her begging on the road truly frightened him—because one could not buy what was not being sold.
Given his overwhelming advantage, Lawrence cleared his throat and answered, "Wait a moment. Cooking is all well and good, but there are other places where a special effort results in a more delicious meat."
"...Other places?" Holo looked up at him with her red-tinged amber eyes.
"There are fowl that are neither cock nor hen, you know."
"Oh?" Despite her centuries of life, it seemed there were subjects not covered by the wisewolf's memory. But rather than finding this frustrating, she merely urged him on out of pure, simple curiosity. "Go on, go on!"
Lawrence cleared his throat again, this time for a rather different reason than before, and continued. "They take the males and castrate them."
"Ho. And that..."
"It yields an even tastier meat than a hen's. It's not tough like a cock's, but their energy doesn't go into making eggs like a hen's does."
"Mm..." Holo's gaze moved purposefully, and she grinned a bare-fanged grin. "That does indeed sound tasty."
Her true form was as a huge wolf that could swallow Lawrence in a single bite. But more importantly, he got the feeling that she was making sport of his most important parts—as a man, that is.
He cleared his throat, and then again more loudly, and lightly flicked the cart horse's reins.
Holo chuckled, amused, and didn't press her attack any further. Her tail swished to and fro.
"Do not worry. I'm well aware you're a capable male when there's need of it." She smiled, flashing white fangs, and if he didn't laugh her jest off, he'd have been no man at all. She had him dancing in the palm of her hand and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do about it.
"Still..."
"Ouch—!"
She grabbed his ear and pulled, and he leaned in response, tugging on the reins, which in turn prompted a neigh from the horse.
"...You're hardly fit to be called a male, exaggerating your tales because you're unconcerned whether I'll beg you for poultry!"
She seemed to have seen right through him.
Holo let go of his ear as though tossing it aside, then folded her arms across her chest, looking displeased.
"Hmph. Consider my teasing your punishment for that. Speaking of such delicious things, when on our journey all we have to eat are these plain rations—why, I could just die."
Even if that did leave them even, this last part was too much for Lawrence to let pass unanswered. "Look here, our food may be plain, but the bread's a mix of wheat and rye, and the wine is fine and clear, and we'd get along perfectly well without it. And then we have cheese and jerky, and we also have fruits and raisins, which is quite luxurious enough. In the past I used to travel on nothing but raw garlic and onions. Compared with that, what we have is unbelievable luxury."
Though Holo sometimes acted strangely childish or animalistic, her fundamental intelligence was enough to cause even Lawrence to quail. She was not someone who couldn't understand reason.
And yet she still had no trouble saying things like, "I shall die, surely."
She turned away with a sniff.
Could such purposeful acting truly exist?
Lawrence made a face as he bit his tongue and glared at Holo.

Output:
To put it politely, all Lawrence wanted was to have pleasant journeys with Holo. And Holo was perfectly willing to take that desire hostage.
"Fine, fine."
"...What is fine?" she replied coldly, her back still turned.
"I'm sorry. If we can find some poultry, I'll buy it for you. But that offer is only good while we're on the road."
That was as far as Lawrence was willing to compromise. When it came to buying her such things in a town, even if his mouth opened to make the offer, as long as his coin purse was unable to open to back up that offer, he would never actually make it.
Holo still did not deign to turn around; her ears merely twitched.
No doubt that clever mind of hers was thinking things through—deciding whether or not he had really been pushed as far as he could be pushed.
"I seem to recall that I told you earlier—I can tell a man's lies from truth."
"Certainly. I remember quite well."
"Is that so?"
"It is."
"Mm..."
Holo again fell silent for a time.
Meanwhile Lawrence felt like a criminal awaiting his sentencing as he waited for her next words, though when he thought carefully about it, he knew perfectly well he had committed no crime.
Yet there was no escaping this unreasonable situation.
Finally Holo appeared to realize that Lawrence's proposal was as far as he could go and still conclude the discussion as jokingly as it had started, so she turned back to him and smiled pleasantly.
Unfair! he shouted inwardly. Holo's ever-changing smiles would be able to deceive any man, not just one weary from years of lonely traveling.
"Hmph. Still, you—"
"Hmm?"
The horse walked lazily on for a little while before Holo spoke.
"What you said earlier—it was no lie, was it?"
"What I said earlier? Oh, about the castrated fowl...?"
"Fool. No, about buying one for me should we encounter one."
Why was she going to such lengths to confirm this? Lawrence had an ill premonition for a moment, but then Holo tugged at his sleeve, and he realized it was no mere premonition.
In an instant, his heart and mind were those of a merchant's.
"Did I say that...?"
"You did, did you not?" Holo leaned in close and growled a low growl.
Now, finally, Lawrence saw what she meant. Far up along the sloping road, there was a person. And though Lawrence's eyes could not make it out, he knew that Holo could see a chicken there, too.
"Surely you don't intend to quibble over whether or not you were speaking to me, do you?"
Nothing was as terrifying as Holo's unfriendly smile. But it seemed likely that he was going to have to kneel down and explain to her just how much a single chicken would cost.
But that would work only if she was willing to listen. And at the moment, that seemed very unlikely. Lawrence looked at Holo next to him and sighed. If he failed to tread lightly, his life could be in danger.
"Fine. I'm sorry. I'll keep my promise. However—"
"However?" she shot back, her retort nearly overlapping with his words and her gaze very serious.
Lawrence had to choose his words very carefully. "Just one."
Holo looked him steadily in the eye and did not move. After a suffocating silence, she faced forward with a huge smile.
Lawrence was sure he knew how a bird too terrified by a wild dog's gaze to fly away must have felt. He thought about it as he looked ahead, whereupon the figure up the road noticed their approach and stood.
The figure waved, and as they drew near enough that Lawrence could tell he was smiling, he saw the chicken tied up at the figure's feet.
"Just one," he repeated, just to be clear.
"How about something to liven up your travels, sir?"
Travelers were few in this expanse of wilderness, and the strange peddler who had waited for a sole customer out under the midwinter sky was a lanky man of about Lawrence's age. He had the particular wiry build of a farmer. When they were close enough to shake hands, Lawrence was surprised at how thick the young man's skin was.
"Besides the chicken, I've got some excellent ale. How about it?"


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

Input:
To put it politely, all Lawrence wanted was to have pleasant journeys with Holo. And Holo was perfectly willing to take that desire hostage.
"Fine, fine."
"...What is fine?" she replied coldly, her back still turned.
"I'm sorry. If we can find some poultry, I'll buy it for you. But that offer is only good while we're on the road."
That was as far as Lawrence was willing to compromise. When it came to buying her such things in a town, even if his mouth opened to make the offer, as long as his coin purse was unable to open to back up that offer, he would never actually make it.
Holo still did not deign to turn around; her ears merely twitched.
No doubt that clever mind of hers was thinking things through—deciding whether or not he had really been pushed as far as he could be pushed.
"I seem to recall that I told you earlier—I can tell a man's lies from truth."
"Certainly. I remember quite well."
"Is that so?"
"It is."
"Mm..."
Holo again fell silent for a time.
Meanwhile Lawrence felt like a criminal awaiting his sentencing as he waited for her next words, though when he thought carefully about it, he knew perfectly well he had committed no crime.
Yet there was no escaping this unreasonable situation.
Finally Holo appeared to realize that Lawrence's proposal was as far as he could go and still conclude the discussion as jokingly as it had started, so she turned back to him and smiled pleasantly.
Unfair! he shouted inwardly. Holo's ever-changing smiles would be able to deceive any man, not just one weary from years of lonely traveling.
"Hmph. Still, you—"
"Hmm?"
The horse walked lazily on for a little while before Holo spoke.
"What you said earlier—it was no lie, was it?"
"What I said earlier? Oh, about the castrated fowl...?"
"Fool. No, about buying one for me should we encounter one."
Why was she going to such lengths to confirm this? Lawrence had an ill premonition for a moment, but then Holo tugged at his sleeve, and he realized it was no mere premonition.
In an instant, his heart and mind were those of a merchant's.
"Did I say that...?"
"You did, did you not?" Holo leaned in close and growled a low growl.
Now, finally, Lawrence saw what she meant. Far up along the sloping road, there was a person. And though Lawrence's eyes could not make it out, he knew that Holo could see a chicken there, too.
"Surely you don't intend to quibble over whether or not you were speaking to me, do you?"
Nothing was as terrifying as Holo's unfriendly smile. But it seemed likely that he was going to have to kneel down and explain to her just how much a single chicken would cost.
But that would work only if she was willing to listen. And at the moment, that seemed very unlikely. Lawrence looked at Holo next to him and sighed. If he failed to tread lightly, his life could be in danger.
"Fine. I'm sorry. I'll keep my promise. However—"
"However?" she shot back, her retort nearly overlapping with his words and her gaze very serious.
Lawrence had to choose his words very carefully. "Just one."
Holo looked him steadily in the eye and did not move. After a suffocating silence, she faced forward with a huge smile.
Lawrence was sure he knew how a bird too terrified by a wild dog's gaze to fly away must have felt. He thought about it as he looked ahead, whereupon the figure up the road noticed their approach and stood.
The figure waved, and as they drew near enough that Lawrence could tell he was smiling, he saw the chicken tied up at the figure's feet.
"Just one," he repeated, just to be clear.
"How about something to liven up your travels, sir?"
Travelers were few in this expanse of wilderness, and the strange peddler who had waited for a sole customer out under the midwinter sky was a lanky man of about Lawrence's age. He had the particular wiry build of a farmer. When they were close enough to shake hands, Lawrence was surprised at how thick the young man's skin was.
"Besides the chicken, I've got some excellent ale. How about it?"

Output:
The young man seemed in fine condition, but the iron bands holding the barrel staves together were rusted and seemed likely to give way at any moment. Nevertheless, the chicken seemed fat and happy—it was a strange combination.
Lawrence stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Holo wasn't urging him to quickly finish the purchase, either—she was probably just as preoccupied as Lawrence was with wondering just how this man came to be on this desolate road in the first place.
"Might we taste the ale?" Lawrence finally asked since silence wasn't going to accomplish anything.
The man nodded grandly. "But of course!" he said, chest thrust out, and then produced a largish measuring cup. He removed the barrel's lid and drew a cupful of ale. "It's just been brewed. Look, it's even still bubbling!"
When Lawrence put it to his lips, he found that it was surprisingly tasty—either the water was good or the wheat had been good.
Holo wanted some, too, so he gave her a sip, and her eyes immediately turned imploring.
"So, how about it?"
At the man's repeated question, Lawrence nodded, and his eyes returned to the chicken.
He could tell that beneath Holo's robe, she was trying very hard to keep her tail from swishing to and fro.
Roast chicken and ale. No wonder she was so happy.
"I suppose we'll take some ale with the chicken."
The only reason the man didn't notice the flicker of movement underneath Holo's hood was because he himself nearly jumped for joy.
But Lawrence was not just Holo's traveling companion. He was something of a traveling merchant, and so these were the next words out of his mouth: "But I think I'd like several chickens. Not just the one."
"Huh?" the man replied, and Holo, too, looked at Lawrence in surprise.
She had recently started to understand how the market worked and thus had a faint notion of just how costly even a single chicken could be—hence her surprise at Lawrence's saying he wanted more than one.
"There's a village nearby, is there not? We're not in a terrible hurry, so perhaps you'd take us there to buy more."
It was obvious that the man wasn't a merchant hauling his goods down the road, which meant he must have come from a village in order to make some coin or trade for goods he had a pressing need of.
Just as Lawrence suspected, the man nodded at first dazedly, then again with greater strength. "Truly? Of course, of course!" His face full of happiness, he immediately secured the barrel with rope and hoisted it to his back. His smaller items were quickly put in a burlap sack and fixed to the lid of the barrel, and then he took hold of the rope the chicken was tied to. "Well, then, follow me!"
And then he strode energetically right off the road.
The direction he was heading in was wild land, but Lawrence decided it was not so rough that the wagon could not traverse it. He pulled on the reins to turn the horse in the proper direction.
It was none other than Holo who chose that moment to tug at his sleeve. "Come now, if you're angry, you might say as much," she said, a worried expression on her face.
She must have thought Lawrence saying he wanted to buy more than one chicken was meant as a kind of snide remark on her behavior.
Lawrence laughed in spite of himself, at which point it was Holo who seemed angry, and she glared at him.
"Sorry, sorry. No, I just had an idea, you see."
"...An idea?" Holo's head tilted quizzically as she faced him.
"Call it a merchant's intuition."
Holo regarded him with extreme skepticism, but Lawrence was not worried. She might confound him with her acting and her snares, but that was because she had confidence in his merchant's eye.
"If this goes well, I really will buy you more than one."
Holo's expression did not change. "We'll see, but I shan't expect much."
Lawrence, however, expected quite a lot.
There would be business to do once they arrived where the young man was so spiritedly taking them.


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

Input:
The young man seemed in fine condition, but the iron bands holding the barrel staves together were rusted and seemed likely to give way at any moment. Nevertheless, the chicken seemed fat and happy—it was a strange combination.
Lawrence stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Holo wasn't urging him to quickly finish the purchase, either—she was probably just as preoccupied as Lawrence was with wondering just how this man came to be on this desolate road in the first place.
"Might we taste the ale?" Lawrence finally asked since silence wasn't going to accomplish anything.
The man nodded grandly. "But of course!" he said, chest thrust out, and then produced a largish measuring cup. He removed the barrel's lid and drew a cupful of ale. "It's just been brewed. Look, it's even still bubbling!"
When Lawrence put it to his lips, he found that it was surprisingly tasty—either the water was good or the wheat had been good.
Holo wanted some, too, so he gave her a sip, and her eyes immediately turned imploring.
"So, how about it?"
At the man's repeated question, Lawrence nodded, and his eyes returned to the chicken.
He could tell that beneath Holo's robe, she was trying very hard to keep her tail from swishing to and fro.
Roast chicken and ale. No wonder she was so happy.
"I suppose we'll take some ale with the chicken."
The only reason the man didn't notice the flicker of movement underneath Holo's hood was because he himself nearly jumped for joy.
But Lawrence was not just Holo's traveling companion. He was something of a traveling merchant, and so these were the next words out of his mouth: "But I think I'd like several chickens. Not just the one."
"Huh?" the man replied, and Holo, too, looked at Lawrence in surprise.
She had recently started to understand how the market worked and thus had a faint notion of just how costly even a single chicken could be—hence her surprise at Lawrence's saying he wanted more than one.
"There's a village nearby, is there not? We're not in a terrible hurry, so perhaps you'd take us there to buy more."
It was obvious that the man wasn't a merchant hauling his goods down the road, which meant he must have come from a village in order to make some coin or trade for goods he had a pressing need of.
Just as Lawrence suspected, the man nodded at first dazedly, then again with greater strength. "Truly? Of course, of course!" His face full of happiness, he immediately secured the barrel with rope and hoisted it to his back. His smaller items were quickly put in a burlap sack and fixed to the lid of the barrel, and then he took hold of the rope the chicken was tied to. "Well, then, follow me!"
And then he strode energetically right off the road.
The direction he was heading in was wild land, but Lawrence decided it was not so rough that the wagon could not traverse it. He pulled on the reins to turn the horse in the proper direction.
It was none other than Holo who chose that moment to tug at his sleeve. "Come now, if you're angry, you might say as much," she said, a worried expression on her face.
She must have thought Lawrence saying he wanted to buy more than one chicken was meant as a kind of snide remark on her behavior.
Lawrence laughed in spite of himself, at which point it was Holo who seemed angry, and she glared at him.
"Sorry, sorry. No, I just had an idea, you see."
"...An idea?" Holo's head tilted quizzically as she faced him.
"Call it a merchant's intuition."
Holo regarded him with extreme skepticism, but Lawrence was not worried. She might confound him with her acting and her snares, but that was because she had confidence in his merchant's eye.
"If this goes well, I really will buy you more than one."
Holo's expression did not change. "We'll see, but I shan't expect much."
Lawrence, however, expected quite a lot.
There would be business to do once they arrived where the young man was so spiritedly taking them.

Output:
Towns and villages without good government either overflowed with chaos or fell into poverty. This seemed to be one of the latter.
"Quite a remote place," said Holo bluntly, and Lawrence couldn't claim he didn't understand.
It was said that roads existed to connect towns to other towns and to connect villages to landlords' estates.
And yet, if this place's poor condition wasn't enough, it was no exaggeration to say that it seemed completely isolated from the outside world. The words landlocked island were perfectly appropriate.
"Well, we're here! Welcome to Jisahz!"
Small though it was, a wooden fence stood marking the territory that belonged to the village. Once he'd passed it, their guide turned and shouted his pronouncement.
It was a village; little else could be said.
The villagers had been watching Lawrence and Holo for some time, and they now drew nearer to get a better look.
"W-well, then, this way! You can wash the dust from your feet at my home!" The man did not bother to introduce Lawrence or Holo to the villagers, instead walking proudly ahead of the horse and wagon.
It was enough to make Lawrence laugh, to say nothing of Holo. The man could not help how proud he was to be leading travelers into his village.
However, from the words "wash the dust from your feet," Lawrence guessed this was a village of the Church. And seeing his guess had been correct, he smiled faintly.
The man pounded loudly on the door of his home, then immediately threw it open and went inside. Next, a verbal exchange could be heard, after which a stout woman emerged from within, looking flustered.
Lawrence found her resemblance to the man rather amusing. "Goodness, welcome, welcome! Go on, dear. Call the village elder!"
The smile remained fixed to Lawrence's face, though not because he found this treatment particularly pleasant. Holo, too, seemed to have realized something, perhaps having noticed Lawrence's smile.
"Er, I'm very grateful for the warm welcome, but we're mere traveling merchants, so..."
"Yes, yes, and honored merchants are most welcome! Please do come in! I'm sorry we can't offer much, but..."
Still sitting in the driver's seat of the wagon, Lawrence smiled an appreciative smile and then turned to Holo. She was quite perceptive, and once Holo nodded her agreement, he turned back to the woman.
Not having to explain every detail to Holo was awfully convenient. Lawrence was perfectly able to continue their little act.
"Well, thank you. We're sorry to impose on your generosity."
"Not at all. Come in! You can leave your wagon right there. Dear! Go fetch some hay and a bucket of water!" cried the woman to a man in the crowd with a hoe over his shoulder. No doubt he was the master of the household. With a look on his face as though wondering what was happening, he nonetheless ran off to do as he was told.
Lawrence descended from the wagon and Holo followed.
Just before they were welcomed into the house, Lawrence caught a glimpse of the young man from earlier leading a much older man by the hand.
The floor of the house had neither wooden planks nor stone tiles and was simply made of hard-packed earth. A hole dug in the earth served as a hearth, around which were arranged a wooden table and chairs. The farming implements that leaned against the walls were likewise entirely wooden.
Onions and garlic dangled from strings, and on a shelf high against one wall there was a milky white-colored substance—yeast, probably.
Despite its dinginess, the building was spacious, and Lawrence suspected that several families might live here given the number of chairs, pots, and bowls.
Lawrence did not particularly dislike town inns, but as he himself was from a tiny village, he felt very comfortable in surroundings like these. It was Holo who seemed less at ease here.
"Ah, so you're heading north, are you?"
"Yes, to a town called Lenos."


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

Input:
Towns and villages without good government either overflowed with chaos or fell into poverty. This seemed to be one of the latter.
"Quite a remote place," said Holo bluntly, and Lawrence couldn't claim he didn't understand.
It was said that roads existed to connect towns to other towns and to connect villages to landlords' estates.
And yet, if this place's poor condition wasn't enough, it was no exaggeration to say that it seemed completely isolated from the outside world. The words landlocked island were perfectly appropriate.
"Well, we're here! Welcome to Jisahz!"
Small though it was, a wooden fence stood marking the territory that belonged to the village. Once he'd passed it, their guide turned and shouted his pronouncement.
It was a village; little else could be said.
The villagers had been watching Lawrence and Holo for some time, and they now drew nearer to get a better look.
"W-well, then, this way! You can wash the dust from your feet at my home!" The man did not bother to introduce Lawrence or Holo to the villagers, instead walking proudly ahead of the horse and wagon.
It was enough to make Lawrence laugh, to say nothing of Holo. The man could not help how proud he was to be leading travelers into his village.
However, from the words "wash the dust from your feet," Lawrence guessed this was a village of the Church. And seeing his guess had been correct, he smiled faintly.
The man pounded loudly on the door of his home, then immediately threw it open and went inside. Next, a verbal exchange could be heard, after which a stout woman emerged from within, looking flustered.
Lawrence found her resemblance to the man rather amusing. "Goodness, welcome, welcome! Go on, dear. Call the village elder!"
The smile remained fixed to Lawrence's face, though not because he found this treatment particularly pleasant. Holo, too, seemed to have realized something, perhaps having noticed Lawrence's smile.
"Er, I'm very grateful for the warm welcome, but we're mere traveling merchants, so..."
"Yes, yes, and honored merchants are most welcome! Please do come in! I'm sorry we can't offer much, but..."
Still sitting in the driver's seat of the wagon, Lawrence smiled an appreciative smile and then turned to Holo. She was quite perceptive, and once Holo nodded her agreement, he turned back to the woman.
Not having to explain every detail to Holo was awfully convenient. Lawrence was perfectly able to continue their little act.
"Well, thank you. We're sorry to impose on your generosity."
"Not at all. Come in! You can leave your wagon right there. Dear! Go fetch some hay and a bucket of water!" cried the woman to a man in the crowd with a hoe over his shoulder. No doubt he was the master of the household. With a look on his face as though wondering what was happening, he nonetheless ran off to do as he was told.
Lawrence descended from the wagon and Holo followed.
Just before they were welcomed into the house, Lawrence caught a glimpse of the young man from earlier leading a much older man by the hand.
The floor of the house had neither wooden planks nor stone tiles and was simply made of hard-packed earth. A hole dug in the earth served as a hearth, around which were arranged a wooden table and chairs. The farming implements that leaned against the walls were likewise entirely wooden.
Onions and garlic dangled from strings, and on a shelf high against one wall there was a milky white-colored substance—yeast, probably.
Despite its dinginess, the building was spacious, and Lawrence suspected that several families might live here given the number of chairs, pots, and bowls.
Lawrence did not particularly dislike town inns, but as he himself was from a tiny village, he felt very comfortable in surroundings like these. It was Holo who seemed less at ease here.
"Ah, so you're heading north, are you?"
"Yes, to a town called Lenos."

Output:
"No doubt it was God's will that I be led to this town and to be welcomed so warmly. If I can help you in any way, please ask."
"We thank you for that."
Lawrence's smile was a genuine one. He truly did believe that this was the result of divine guidance.
"Let us give thanks to God for this encounter, then." As the village elder spoke, Lawrence and Holo both raised their wooden cups and drank a toast.
"...Aah, that is fine ale, indeed."
"It is shameful—thanks given to God call for wine, but we cannot raise grapevines here."
"God determines the flavor of wine, but it's the skill of humans that give ale its taste. And you surely possess fine brewing methods to make this ale."
The elder shook his head humbly, but he could not hide his pleasure at hearing this. Holo stared down at the table, but Lawrence knew it was not because she found this conversation tiresome, nor because the food was too poor for her taste.
Just what are you planning? her quick glance to Lawrence said.
"In truth, our brewing uses a secret technique," said the elder, only too pleased to have the village's ale praised.
To earn the high regard of an elder, the key was to listen closely to everything he or she said. Lawrence was just giving the old man his full attention when he heard a commotion from outside.
"So, yes...oh?" said the elder, looking over his shoulder.
"Elder! Drey and the others, they're at it again!" shouted a man, pointing outside after he burst into the room, his hands black with soil.
The elder stood, looking pained, then turned back to Lawrence and bowed his head. "My apologies. I must tend to this."
"Not at all. You've welcomed us quite warmly enough. Your duties to the village are more important."
The elder bowed again before being hurried out the door by the other man.
The village custom seemed to be that only the elder welcomed guests, so once he left, Lawrence and Holo were alone.
There still seemed to be people outside, so if they called, no doubt someone would come, but Holo seemed to welcome the solitude.
"So then—"
"I imagine you'd like an explanation, eh?"
Holo plucked a bean off the table, popped it into her mouth, and nodded.
"This is a colony village," said Lawrence.
"Colony?" Holo repeated back to him.
"There are many reasons, but it happens when people move into undeveloped land and found a new town or village there. And sometimes, once in a while, villages get founded in isolated places like this one."
Holo's eyes glanced curiously to and fro as she drank her beer. "Why would they do such a thing?" she asked almost childishly.
"This is just a guess, but do you recall the rocks and logs we saw piled next to the spring when we entered the village? I'll bet they plan on building an abbey."
"An...abbey?"
"Yes. It's a place where a chosen few devout believers can conduct their worship. Undisturbed by worldly temptations, they can live simply, humbly, and purely, which is why they would choose a desolate place like this."
It would be a silent fortress, dedicated to rules that Holo would no doubt have trouble following for even a single day.
But such a place would not be built by robed, scripture-carrying lambs of God. The people of this village were probably related to criminals or had been connected to pagans.
Building an abbey in such a remote location was not merely a question of erecting the buildings—to ensure the monks could sustain their lives, fields and drinking water had to be secured. By engaging in this grueling work, the villagers could atone for their sins.
"Hmm...If it's as you say, then...," Holo began and then suddenly seemed to recall just what sort of people made up the Church. Having done that, she arrived at the answer on her own.
"So then, you're going to take advantage of their weak position." Her choice of words was quite intentional.
"I'm merely going to help some people who are in trouble."


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

Input:
"No doubt it was God's will that I be led to this town and to be welcomed so warmly. If I can help you in any way, please ask."
"We thank you for that."
Lawrence's smile was a genuine one. He truly did believe that this was the result of divine guidance.
"Let us give thanks to God for this encounter, then." As the village elder spoke, Lawrence and Holo both raised their wooden cups and drank a toast.
"...Aah, that is fine ale, indeed."
"It is shameful—thanks given to God call for wine, but we cannot raise grapevines here."
"God determines the flavor of wine, but it's the skill of humans that give ale its taste. And you surely possess fine brewing methods to make this ale."
The elder shook his head humbly, but he could not hide his pleasure at hearing this. Holo stared down at the table, but Lawrence knew it was not because she found this conversation tiresome, nor because the food was too poor for her taste.
Just what are you planning? her quick glance to Lawrence said.
"In truth, our brewing uses a secret technique," said the elder, only too pleased to have the village's ale praised.
To earn the high regard of an elder, the key was to listen closely to everything he or she said. Lawrence was just giving the old man his full attention when he heard a commotion from outside.
"So, yes...oh?" said the elder, looking over his shoulder.
"Elder! Drey and the others, they're at it again!" shouted a man, pointing outside after he burst into the room, his hands black with soil.
The elder stood, looking pained, then turned back to Lawrence and bowed his head. "My apologies. I must tend to this."
"Not at all. You've welcomed us quite warmly enough. Your duties to the village are more important."
The elder bowed again before being hurried out the door by the other man.
The village custom seemed to be that only the elder welcomed guests, so once he left, Lawrence and Holo were alone.
There still seemed to be people outside, so if they called, no doubt someone would come, but Holo seemed to welcome the solitude.
"So then—"
"I imagine you'd like an explanation, eh?"
Holo plucked a bean off the table, popped it into her mouth, and nodded.
"This is a colony village," said Lawrence.
"Colony?" Holo repeated back to him.
"There are many reasons, but it happens when people move into undeveloped land and found a new town or village there. And sometimes, once in a while, villages get founded in isolated places like this one."
Holo's eyes glanced curiously to and fro as she drank her beer. "Why would they do such a thing?" she asked almost childishly.
"This is just a guess, but do you recall the rocks and logs we saw piled next to the spring when we entered the village? I'll bet they plan on building an abbey."
"An...abbey?"
"Yes. It's a place where a chosen few devout believers can conduct their worship. Undisturbed by worldly temptations, they can live simply, humbly, and purely, which is why they would choose a desolate place like this."
It would be a silent fortress, dedicated to rules that Holo would no doubt have trouble following for even a single day.
But such a place would not be built by robed, scripture-carrying lambs of God. The people of this village were probably related to criminals or had been connected to pagans.
Building an abbey in such a remote location was not merely a question of erecting the buildings—to ensure the monks could sustain their lives, fields and drinking water had to be secured. By engaging in this grueling work, the villagers could atone for their sins.
"Hmm...If it's as you say, then...," Holo began and then suddenly seemed to recall just what sort of people made up the Church. Having done that, she arrived at the answer on her own.
"So then, you're going to take advantage of their weak position." Her choice of words was quite intentional.
"I'm merely going to help some people who are in trouble."

Output:
Lawrence's constant, easy smile was thanks to this village. It was like discovering a lake brimming with fish.
Farm tools, craft equipment, livestock, and looms for textiles and clothing—the era when a village could be truly self-sustaining was now long past. When a village was created, supply and demand followed soon after.
Finding a village where the people led plump chickens around on ropes and sold delicious ale from barrels by the roadside was, to a traveling merchant, like discovering a mountain of treasure.
In exchange for its poultry and ale, Lawrence would provide the village with its necessities. If he could become the sole provider for the village, the profit would be tastier than any ale could ever be.
Holo made an exasperated face, sipping her drink as she looked at Lawrence out of the corner of her eye.
He thought he saw her ears flick rapidly beneath her hood, but then she grinned and faced him. "Hmm. Well, do enjoy playing the savior."
***
Before Lawrence could ask what she meant, there was a hasty-sounding knock at the door. Behind it was the man who'd called for the village elder earlier.
Lawrence could guess at what he wanted.
"My apologies, honored travelers. If either of you can read, we have need of your assistance, if you would be so kind."
Here in this remote village where no merchant ever visited, he was being asked if he could read.
Lawrence bounded to his feet at his unbelievable luck.
"Enough! Would you break the agreement we've already made? My field is six chiechen in size!"
"That is a plain lie! It's mine that was clearly stated to be six chiechens! Yours is five! So why is mine now smaller? And now you've the nerve to build this fence—"
Lawrence did not need to have the situation explained to him. From the angry shouting that was audible some distance away, it was clear enough.
From the use of the chiechen unit, he could even make a guess as to where the men were from. There was a land of forests and springs known as Rivaria, where a wise king named Chiechen the Second had once ruled.
In his kingdom's land surveys, the span between the king's outstretched arms was used as a unit of measurement: one chiechen.
Of course, even with the measurement the wise king had decreed, there was no end to land disputes.
Before the two arguing men stood the village elder, at a complete loss for words. As the village did not have the benefit of a long tradition, there was no authority to settle the fight. Resolving this sort of baseless dispute was very difficult without the authority to transcend reason and decide by fiat.
"Elder, I've brought them."
"Aah, yes." The elder appeared at his wits' end and he looked at Lawrence imploringly. "It is very difficult to ask you this, but..."
"A fight over land division, is it?" Anyone doing business with small villages like this would find that such disputes were very common.
Yet the elder seemed to find Lawrence's statement evidence of some deep wisdom. "Yes, that is it exactly," he said, bowing very deeply. "In truth, this village was built on the orders of a certain nobleman, and there are often fights over the size of the lands as they were decided at that time. Normally we resolve them calmly, but those two have nursed a grudge for a very long time, it seems..."
The shouting had moved from an argument over land size to simple exchanges of contempt. The villagers surrounded them in a large circle, seemingly irritated, with only Holo finding the scene amusing.
"So then, is there a written deed for the land?" Lawrence asked. That had to be the reason he'd been asked if he could read.
The village elder nodded and produced a sheet of parchment from his breast pocket. "This is the same, but none of us can read what's written upon it."
A village where the whole of the population was illiterate was like an unlocked treasure chest.
Merchants converted agreements into written words.
So how long could one remain honest in a place where none could read those words?


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

Input:
Lawrence's constant, easy smile was thanks to this village. It was like discovering a lake brimming with fish.
Farm tools, craft equipment, livestock, and looms for textiles and clothing—the era when a village could be truly self-sustaining was now long past. When a village was created, supply and demand followed soon after.
Finding a village where the people led plump chickens around on ropes and sold delicious ale from barrels by the roadside was, to a traveling merchant, like discovering a mountain of treasure.
In exchange for its poultry and ale, Lawrence would provide the village with its necessities. If he could become the sole provider for the village, the profit would be tastier than any ale could ever be.
Holo made an exasperated face, sipping her drink as she looked at Lawrence out of the corner of her eye.
He thought he saw her ears flick rapidly beneath her hood, but then she grinned and faced him. "Hmm. Well, do enjoy playing the savior."
***
Before Lawrence could ask what she meant, there was a hasty-sounding knock at the door. Behind it was the man who'd called for the village elder earlier.
Lawrence could guess at what he wanted.
"My apologies, honored travelers. If either of you can read, we have need of your assistance, if you would be so kind."
Here in this remote village where no merchant ever visited, he was being asked if he could read.
Lawrence bounded to his feet at his unbelievable luck.
"Enough! Would you break the agreement we've already made? My field is six chiechen in size!"
"That is a plain lie! It's mine that was clearly stated to be six chiechens! Yours is five! So why is mine now smaller? And now you've the nerve to build this fence—"
Lawrence did not need to have the situation explained to him. From the angry shouting that was audible some distance away, it was clear enough.
From the use of the chiechen unit, he could even make a guess as to where the men were from. There was a land of forests and springs known as Rivaria, where a wise king named Chiechen the Second had once ruled.
In his kingdom's land surveys, the span between the king's outstretched arms was used as a unit of measurement: one chiechen.
Of course, even with the measurement the wise king had decreed, there was no end to land disputes.
Before the two arguing men stood the village elder, at a complete loss for words. As the village did not have the benefit of a long tradition, there was no authority to settle the fight. Resolving this sort of baseless dispute was very difficult without the authority to transcend reason and decide by fiat.
"Elder, I've brought them."
"Aah, yes." The elder appeared at his wits' end and he looked at Lawrence imploringly. "It is very difficult to ask you this, but..."
"A fight over land division, is it?" Anyone doing business with small villages like this would find that such disputes were very common.
Yet the elder seemed to find Lawrence's statement evidence of some deep wisdom. "Yes, that is it exactly," he said, bowing very deeply. "In truth, this village was built on the orders of a certain nobleman, and there are often fights over the size of the lands as they were decided at that time. Normally we resolve them calmly, but those two have nursed a grudge for a very long time, it seems..."
The shouting had moved from an argument over land size to simple exchanges of contempt. The villagers surrounded them in a large circle, seemingly irritated, with only Holo finding the scene amusing.
"So then, is there a written deed for the land?" Lawrence asked. That had to be the reason he'd been asked if he could read.
The village elder nodded and produced a sheet of parchment from his breast pocket. "This is the same, but none of us can read what's written upon it."
A village where the whole of the population was illiterate was like an unlocked treasure chest.
Merchants converted agreements into written words.
So how long could one remain honest in a place where none could read those words?

Output:
Such villages were not common, and merchants with the good fortune to be the first to visit them were still fewer in number.
Lawrence solemnly regarded the parchment, his heart pounding with excitement.
"...Ah, I see."
The moment he looked at the parchment, he realized that such good fortune did not exist after all and quirked a small smile.
The village elder blinked, and Lawrence's smile became a wry one.
It was no surprise none could read the parchment—the land deed had been written in the holy characters of the Church.
"There are a few among us who can read, but none of them can understand this parchment. We believe it must be in the letters of some foreign land."
"No, this is the special writing of the Church. I myself can only read numbers and a few set phrases in it."
Lawrence had seen land deeds and certificates of privilege written with the letters of the Church before.
From beside him Holo peered at the parchment, but she, too, appeared unable to read it. She soon lost interest in it and returned to watching the two men shout.
"Hmm, yes. I believe I see where the trouble is." Lawrence read through the parchment again and delivered his pronouncement. "Did those two men happen to be craftsmen before?"
As the argument turned into a physical brawl, Holo snickered beneath her hood, and the villagers finally moved to separate the men.
The elder seemed to be debating whether to go in himself, but hearing Lawrence's question, he looked up in surprise. "Th-that's right. But how did you know?"
"The land is divided such that they both should receive six chiechen. There's no mistake about that. But here...," said Lawrence, pointing out a single word.
The elder narrowed his eyes and looked, but since the word was written in letters he could not read, no understanding came to him.
"'Sheepfold,' it says. One of the sheepfolds is six chiechen, the other five."
The elder stared at the parchment blankly for a while and then finally seemed to arrive at the conclusion. He squeezed his eyes closed and smacked his own balding head. "I see...," he murmured. "So they didn't realize they were meant to be sheepfolds..."
Land division was very important to villagers. Before they'd set out for the new colony, there was no doubt these illiterate villagers had the particulars of that division explained to them. But how were people who'd never so much as tended a garden meant to understand such specialized terminology?
The only parts that would linger in their minds would be the numbers.
And that would lead to fights like this.
"It seems that Chai Barton donated just a bit more to the abbey, so Barton was given the six-chiechen sheepfold."
"Barton's the one on the left there. Goodness, to think that's what they've been fighting over..."
"Without any experience with such matters, it's hard to understand the importance of a mere sheep pen."
Just as the name suggested, a sheepfold was a fenced area for keeping sheep—but the goal was not generally to raise them within such a pen, but rather to bring them there at night so that their droppings could fertilize the area.
Since it was obvious that more sheep went into a larger pen, just as a smaller one would hold fewer, pens were measured not by their capacity but rather their area. Some farmers would fill their pens to capacity, while others wouldn't even cover half the area with sheep.
The elder bowed politely to Lawrence, then trotted off toward the two arguing men. He spread the parchment out in front of the two men, who were forcibly pulled apart by other villagers. As Lawrence looked on with an indulgent smile, the two men finally exchanged a grudging handshake.
"That was settled rather too quickly," said Holo, sounding disappointed.


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

Input:
Such villages were not common, and merchants with the good fortune to be the first to visit them were still fewer in number.
Lawrence solemnly regarded the parchment, his heart pounding with excitement.
"...Ah, I see."
The moment he looked at the parchment, he realized that such good fortune did not exist after all and quirked a small smile.
The village elder blinked, and Lawrence's smile became a wry one.
It was no surprise none could read the parchment—the land deed had been written in the holy characters of the Church.
"There are a few among us who can read, but none of them can understand this parchment. We believe it must be in the letters of some foreign land."
"No, this is the special writing of the Church. I myself can only read numbers and a few set phrases in it."
Lawrence had seen land deeds and certificates of privilege written with the letters of the Church before.
From beside him Holo peered at the parchment, but she, too, appeared unable to read it. She soon lost interest in it and returned to watching the two men shout.
"Hmm, yes. I believe I see where the trouble is." Lawrence read through the parchment again and delivered his pronouncement. "Did those two men happen to be craftsmen before?"
As the argument turned into a physical brawl, Holo snickered beneath her hood, and the villagers finally moved to separate the men.
The elder seemed to be debating whether to go in himself, but hearing Lawrence's question, he looked up in surprise. "Th-that's right. But how did you know?"
"The land is divided such that they both should receive six chiechen. There's no mistake about that. But here...," said Lawrence, pointing out a single word.
The elder narrowed his eyes and looked, but since the word was written in letters he could not read, no understanding came to him.
"'Sheepfold,' it says. One of the sheepfolds is six chiechen, the other five."
The elder stared at the parchment blankly for a while and then finally seemed to arrive at the conclusion. He squeezed his eyes closed and smacked his own balding head. "I see...," he murmured. "So they didn't realize they were meant to be sheepfolds..."
Land division was very important to villagers. Before they'd set out for the new colony, there was no doubt these illiterate villagers had the particulars of that division explained to them. But how were people who'd never so much as tended a garden meant to understand such specialized terminology?
The only parts that would linger in their minds would be the numbers.
And that would lead to fights like this.
"It seems that Chai Barton donated just a bit more to the abbey, so Barton was given the six-chiechen sheepfold."
"Barton's the one on the left there. Goodness, to think that's what they've been fighting over..."
"Without any experience with such matters, it's hard to understand the importance of a mere sheep pen."
Just as the name suggested, a sheepfold was a fenced area for keeping sheep—but the goal was not generally to raise them within such a pen, but rather to bring them there at night so that their droppings could fertilize the area.
Since it was obvious that more sheep went into a larger pen, just as a smaller one would hold fewer, pens were measured not by their capacity but rather their area. Some farmers would fill their pens to capacity, while others wouldn't even cover half the area with sheep.
The elder bowed politely to Lawrence, then trotted off toward the two arguing men. He spread the parchment out in front of the two men, who were forcibly pulled apart by other villagers. As Lawrence looked on with an indulgent smile, the two men finally exchanged a grudging handshake.
"That was settled rather too quickly," said Holo, sounding disappointed.

Output:
Whenever there was a dispute, the written word would always triumph.
"You can't expand your business if you're having fights like this every day. It's why contracts are so important."
Holo listened to Lawrence, seemingly uninterested. "Important enough that you were thinking to back out of your promise of chicken."
"Quite so," said Lawrence, just as the village elder turned to face him, then bowed slowly.
Lawrence gave the man a slight wave. It was nice to be useful to someone else once in a while, he thought.
That evening, the villagers celebrated the end of the two men's conflict by slaughtering a chicken and roasting it whole. There was also as much liquor as one could drink—as long as they wanted ale.
This would satisfy even Holo surely.
Or so Lawrence thought, but after partaking of only a small amount, Holo retired like the pious nun she appeared to be.
Evidently an entire building had been set aside for them to stay in, and upon excusing herself, she was led there. Perhaps she was weary from traveling, and the meat and ale were proving heavier than expected.
He couldn't discount the possibility, so after participating in the feast a bit longer so as not to offend his hosts, Lawrence, too, returned to their accommodations.
The third day of a winter's journey often decided whether one's body would accustom itself to the rigors of travel, and even veteran travelers could find their strength failing if they weren't careful.
And Holo had already felt poorly several times.
Even the wisewolf who dwelled in the wheat was not immune to exhaustion.
Lawrence quietly opened the door to the building he was led to; inside it was dark and quiet.
He took a tallow lamp and slowly entered, and found that storage boxes had been arranged to form a makeshift bed in the center of the room on the earthen floor. The villagers themselves slept on straw spread upon the floor, so this was special treatment for honored guests.
What he could not guess at was why they had prepared only a single bed. Did they suppose they were being considerate?
In any case, Lawrence regarded Holo, who was already curled up in a blanket. "Are you all right?"
If she was asleep, that was fine.
After a few moments without a reply, Lawrence concluded that she was.
If she awoke the next day and was still feeling unwell, Lawrence would offer the villagers some money and stay a bit longer.
Having decided as much, Lawrence extinguished the lamp and curled up on the straw of the bed, pulling the thin linen blanket over himself.
He was careful not to wake Holo and seemed to have been successful.
Though merely straw, this bed was far more comfortable than the bed of his wagon. All he could see was the ceiling and its joists and what moonlight streamed through the small hole in the roof that was there to let smoke out from the hearth.
Lawrence closed his eyes and considered the village's situation.
It held thirty or forty people. Nearby there were forests and springs, and fruit, fish, and wild honey were all surely abundant. It sported fine pasturing, too. Excepting the relative rockiness of the land, it seemed quite fertile.
If the abbey were completed, it would easily support a hundred people.
As long as no other merchant had already marked the place as his own, it seemed possible that Lawrence would be able to monopolize its trade. During the feast, he had spoken with the villagers; he had talked to them about trading for iron tools, cattle, and horses.
When a nobleman donated a remote parcel of land for the construction of an abbey, it often happened that they or someone close to them was nearing death. The plans were rushed, construction proceeding without important details having first been decided. And it was not necessarily true that the nobleman even lived near the land being donated.


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

Input:
Whenever there was a dispute, the written word would always triumph.
"You can't expand your business if you're having fights like this every day. It's why contracts are so important."
Holo listened to Lawrence, seemingly uninterested. "Important enough that you were thinking to back out of your promise of chicken."
"Quite so," said Lawrence, just as the village elder turned to face him, then bowed slowly.
Lawrence gave the man a slight wave. It was nice to be useful to someone else once in a while, he thought.
That evening, the villagers celebrated the end of the two men's conflict by slaughtering a chicken and roasting it whole. There was also as much liquor as one could drink—as long as they wanted ale.
This would satisfy even Holo surely.
Or so Lawrence thought, but after partaking of only a small amount, Holo retired like the pious nun she appeared to be.
Evidently an entire building had been set aside for them to stay in, and upon excusing herself, she was led there. Perhaps she was weary from traveling, and the meat and ale were proving heavier than expected.
He couldn't discount the possibility, so after participating in the feast a bit longer so as not to offend his hosts, Lawrence, too, returned to their accommodations.
The third day of a winter's journey often decided whether one's body would accustom itself to the rigors of travel, and even veteran travelers could find their strength failing if they weren't careful.
And Holo had already felt poorly several times.
Even the wisewolf who dwelled in the wheat was not immune to exhaustion.
Lawrence quietly opened the door to the building he was led to; inside it was dark and quiet.
He took a tallow lamp and slowly entered, and found that storage boxes had been arranged to form a makeshift bed in the center of the room on the earthen floor. The villagers themselves slept on straw spread upon the floor, so this was special treatment for honored guests.
What he could not guess at was why they had prepared only a single bed. Did they suppose they were being considerate?
In any case, Lawrence regarded Holo, who was already curled up in a blanket. "Are you all right?"
If she was asleep, that was fine.
After a few moments without a reply, Lawrence concluded that she was.
If she awoke the next day and was still feeling unwell, Lawrence would offer the villagers some money and stay a bit longer.
Having decided as much, Lawrence extinguished the lamp and curled up on the straw of the bed, pulling the thin linen blanket over himself.
He was careful not to wake Holo and seemed to have been successful.
Though merely straw, this bed was far more comfortable than the bed of his wagon. All he could see was the ceiling and its joists and what moonlight streamed through the small hole in the roof that was there to let smoke out from the hearth.
Lawrence closed his eyes and considered the village's situation.
It held thirty or forty people. Nearby there were forests and springs, and fruit, fish, and wild honey were all surely abundant. It sported fine pasturing, too. Excepting the relative rockiness of the land, it seemed quite fertile.
If the abbey were completed, it would easily support a hundred people.
As long as no other merchant had already marked the place as his own, it seemed possible that Lawrence would be able to monopolize its trade. During the feast, he had spoken with the villagers; he had talked to them about trading for iron tools, cattle, and horses.
When a nobleman donated a remote parcel of land for the construction of an abbey, it often happened that they or someone close to them was nearing death. The plans were rushed, construction proceeding without important details having first been decided. And it was not necessarily true that the nobleman even lived near the land being donated.

Output:
Thus it was common for neighboring communities to avoid contact with newly settled occupants, fearing they'd be drawn into such conflict. This village seemed to be typical of such situations, and evidently the merchants of nearby towns and villages were reluctant to do business with it. The village elder had said the young man taking the beer and chicken to the side of the lonely road where Lawrence had found them had been a last-ditch effort.
For Lawrence, the timing could not have been more fortunate. For the village, he was like a messenger from God.
It was only understandable that his face would redden with pleasure despite not having too much to drink. An opportunity he'd often dreamt of during his lonely travels was now right before his eyes.
So just how much profit would it bring him?
As the night grew darker, his mind brightened. The notion of his prospects here was a stronger liquor than any ale he'd been served, and—
He felt Holo shift in the bed, and then she spoke up with a sigh. "Honestly, you are a hopeless male."
"Hmm, so you were awake, eh?"
"How could I sleep with the sound of you grinning away like that?"
Lawrence couldn't help but touch his face to check.
"I left the feast in such a state, and you just kept grinning away, not a care in the world..."
Now that she had said as much herself, it was clear she had intentionally left early.
But Lawrence sensed that if he pointed it out he'd only earn her ire, so he chose his words carefully. "Your voice seems so cheerful now—I can't tell you how relieved that makes me."
Holo's tail shifted beneath the blanket they shared. But Holo herself, who could tell when a person was lying, grabbed Lawrence's cheek and bared her fangs. "Fool."
She would've been angry no matter what his answer had been, but he could have done worse, it seemed.
Holo sulkily rolled over so that she was facing away from Lawrence. Given the obviousness of her actions, she was probably not so very furious.
"Why did you leave so early? The chicken and ale were both delicious."
The villagers had brought out special ale, and it had been just as splendid as their claims suggested it would be. When Lawrence asked about it, they said that spices had been dried, ground, and added to the brew.
The chicken was so well fed that fat fairly dripped from it, so what could she be so unsatisfied with?
Holo did not immediately respond. Only after a fair span of time did she finally speak in a low moan. "Did you truly find that ale delicious?"
"Huh?" Lawrence responded, but not because Holo was speaking quietly.
"I could not drink it. I cannot believe anything so foul smelling would be called 'delicious.'"
People had differing tastes, of course, so it was not hard to imagine that she would not find the heady scent of the ale to her liking. But why it would make her so angry, so sad—Lawrence could not guess at that.
His gaze wandered for a moment before he spoke very carefully, as though Holo were a bubble beside him that might pop at any moment.
"They put the spices of their homelands into it. It's a very peculiar scent. For people who like that scent, it's wonderful, but for those who don't—"
"Fool."
She kicked him under the blanket and then faced him.
Her features were distorted, but not by the moonlight that streamed in from the hole in the ceiling.
When she looked like this, Holo was holding back whatever it was that she truly wanted to say. And Lawrence never knew the reason why.
"Enough!" she finally said, then rolled back over and curled up tightly.
When they slept on the wagon bed, she would lay her tail on his legs—but not only did she snatch it away, she also took the blanket they had been sharing.
Her ears were turned away, making it all too clear she was in no mood to listen to him. It was evident enough from her turned back that she wanted him to take notice of something.
***


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

Input:
Thus it was common for neighboring communities to avoid contact with newly settled occupants, fearing they'd be drawn into such conflict. This village seemed to be typical of such situations, and evidently the merchants of nearby towns and villages were reluctant to do business with it. The village elder had said the young man taking the beer and chicken to the side of the lonely road where Lawrence had found them had been a last-ditch effort.
For Lawrence, the timing could not have been more fortunate. For the village, he was like a messenger from God.
It was only understandable that his face would redden with pleasure despite not having too much to drink. An opportunity he'd often dreamt of during his lonely travels was now right before his eyes.
So just how much profit would it bring him?
As the night grew darker, his mind brightened. The notion of his prospects here was a stronger liquor than any ale he'd been served, and—
He felt Holo shift in the bed, and then she spoke up with a sigh. "Honestly, you are a hopeless male."
"Hmm, so you were awake, eh?"
"How could I sleep with the sound of you grinning away like that?"
Lawrence couldn't help but touch his face to check.
"I left the feast in such a state, and you just kept grinning away, not a care in the world..."
Now that she had said as much herself, it was clear she had intentionally left early.
But Lawrence sensed that if he pointed it out he'd only earn her ire, so he chose his words carefully. "Your voice seems so cheerful now—I can't tell you how relieved that makes me."
Holo's tail shifted beneath the blanket they shared. But Holo herself, who could tell when a person was lying, grabbed Lawrence's cheek and bared her fangs. "Fool."
She would've been angry no matter what his answer had been, but he could have done worse, it seemed.
Holo sulkily rolled over so that she was facing away from Lawrence. Given the obviousness of her actions, she was probably not so very furious.
"Why did you leave so early? The chicken and ale were both delicious."
The villagers had brought out special ale, and it had been just as splendid as their claims suggested it would be. When Lawrence asked about it, they said that spices had been dried, ground, and added to the brew.
The chicken was so well fed that fat fairly dripped from it, so what could she be so unsatisfied with?
Holo did not immediately respond. Only after a fair span of time did she finally speak in a low moan. "Did you truly find that ale delicious?"
"Huh?" Lawrence responded, but not because Holo was speaking quietly.
"I could not drink it. I cannot believe anything so foul smelling would be called 'delicious.'"
People had differing tastes, of course, so it was not hard to imagine that she would not find the heady scent of the ale to her liking. But why it would make her so angry, so sad—Lawrence could not guess at that.
His gaze wandered for a moment before he spoke very carefully, as though Holo were a bubble beside him that might pop at any moment.
"They put the spices of their homelands into it. It's a very peculiar scent. For people who like that scent, it's wonderful, but for those who don't—"
"Fool."
She kicked him under the blanket and then faced him.
Her features were distorted, but not by the moonlight that streamed in from the hole in the ceiling.
When she looked like this, Holo was holding back whatever it was that she truly wanted to say. And Lawrence never knew the reason why.
"Enough!" she finally said, then rolled back over and curled up tightly.
When they slept on the wagon bed, she would lay her tail on his legs—but not only did she snatch it away, she also took the blanket they had been sharing.
Her ears were turned away, making it all too clear she was in no mood to listen to him. It was evident enough from her turned back that she wanted him to take notice of something.
***

Output:
Lawrence reflected on how obsessed he'd been with gaining the village's business ever since they had encountered the young man by the roadside.
He had heard that a hunter's faithful hound would often become jealous when that hunter took a wife.
He wondered whether his reluctance to believe that Holo would feel similarly was the "foolish male" thinking that she'd accused him of.
Lawrence stole a glance at Holo's back and then scratched his head.
In any case, he would have to pay more attention to her tomorrow.
This wolf's mood changed just as often as the weather in the mountain forests from which she came.
In the winter drizzle, Lawrence would put his blanket over his goods, shivering with his arms clasped around him as he passed the night. Compared with that experience, sleeping under a roof on a bed of straw was vastly preferable.
When morning came, he awoke with his usual sneeze, reflecting on such notions to avoid cursing the situation in which he'd found himself.
Next to him was Holo, curled up in her blanket asleep, snoring soundly.
He couldn't claim not to have felt a twinge of anger.
But when he looked at her sleeping face, Lawrence could only sigh softly and stand from the bed.
While technically a house, it was still a roughly hewn dwelling dug into the earth.
His breath was white, and when he moved his body, his cold-stiffened joints creaked.
It was lucky that the floor was hard-packed earth rather than wood. He went outside without waking Holo and looked up at the sky—the weather would be fine, it seemed—and he yawned.
People were already gathering around the well to draw water, and in the distance the cries of oxen, pigs, and sheep could be heard.
It was the very picture of an industrious little village.
Lawrence couldn't help but anticipate the coming morning. He smiled a rueful smile to himself.
It was near noontime when Holo finally awoke, and normally such sloth would be regarded with hard stares in villages like this.
But here everyone smiled, perhaps because they were all settlers. Nearly all of them had packed up their households and moved them, livestock and all, along a long and difficult road. They knew well that travelers had their own special sense of time.
Lawrence had been right that there wouldn't be any breakfast, though.
It was considered a luxury even in the most prosperous towns, so of course it would be absent here in this simple, hardscrabble village.
"So, what are you doing?"
Lawrence wondered if Holo had slept in because she had known that there would be no breakfast.
In Holo's hand were thin slices of boiled rye bread, between which were sausages made from pork slaughtered to preserve it over the winter.
It was a lunch that Lawrence would have felt guilty to receive for free, but unfortunately that had not been a problem.
As she chewed away on the food, Holo's eyes followed Lawrence's hands, which busied themselves with the task to which they'd been set.
Lawrence had a variety of things he wanted to tell Holo as she devoured her food and washed it down with ale, but given that her ire from the previous night had subsided, there seemed to be little reason to rouse it again.
Such thinking would probably result in spoiling her, but instead of saying any number of things, Lawrence answered her question.
"Translation."
"Trans...lafuh?" she said.
It would have been absurd to warn her not to talk with her mouth full. Lawrence plucked a bread crumb from the corner of her mouth and nodded. "Yes. They asked me to translate this troublesome Church document into the language they're familiar with, so that scuffles like yesterday's won't happen."
It was work that would cost them a goodly amount if they had to go to a town to have it done.
Of course, while he was not charging them for the service, Lawrence was unable to guarantee the accuracy of his translation.


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

Input:
Lawrence reflected on how obsessed he'd been with gaining the village's business ever since they had encountered the young man by the roadside.
He had heard that a hunter's faithful hound would often become jealous when that hunter took a wife.
He wondered whether his reluctance to believe that Holo would feel similarly was the "foolish male" thinking that she'd accused him of.
Lawrence stole a glance at Holo's back and then scratched his head.
In any case, he would have to pay more attention to her tomorrow.
This wolf's mood changed just as often as the weather in the mountain forests from which she came.
In the winter drizzle, Lawrence would put his blanket over his goods, shivering with his arms clasped around him as he passed the night. Compared with that experience, sleeping under a roof on a bed of straw was vastly preferable.
When morning came, he awoke with his usual sneeze, reflecting on such notions to avoid cursing the situation in which he'd found himself.
Next to him was Holo, curled up in her blanket asleep, snoring soundly.
He couldn't claim not to have felt a twinge of anger.
But when he looked at her sleeping face, Lawrence could only sigh softly and stand from the bed.
While technically a house, it was still a roughly hewn dwelling dug into the earth.
His breath was white, and when he moved his body, his cold-stiffened joints creaked.
It was lucky that the floor was hard-packed earth rather than wood. He went outside without waking Holo and looked up at the sky—the weather would be fine, it seemed—and he yawned.
People were already gathering around the well to draw water, and in the distance the cries of oxen, pigs, and sheep could be heard.
It was the very picture of an industrious little village.
Lawrence couldn't help but anticipate the coming morning. He smiled a rueful smile to himself.
It was near noontime when Holo finally awoke, and normally such sloth would be regarded with hard stares in villages like this.
But here everyone smiled, perhaps because they were all settlers. Nearly all of them had packed up their households and moved them, livestock and all, along a long and difficult road. They knew well that travelers had their own special sense of time.
Lawrence had been right that there wouldn't be any breakfast, though.
It was considered a luxury even in the most prosperous towns, so of course it would be absent here in this simple, hardscrabble village.
"So, what are you doing?"
Lawrence wondered if Holo had slept in because she had known that there would be no breakfast.
In Holo's hand were thin slices of boiled rye bread, between which were sausages made from pork slaughtered to preserve it over the winter.
It was a lunch that Lawrence would have felt guilty to receive for free, but unfortunately that had not been a problem.
As she chewed away on the food, Holo's eyes followed Lawrence's hands, which busied themselves with the task to which they'd been set.
Lawrence had a variety of things he wanted to tell Holo as she devoured her food and washed it down with ale, but given that her ire from the previous night had subsided, there seemed to be little reason to rouse it again.
Such thinking would probably result in spoiling her, but instead of saying any number of things, Lawrence answered her question.
"Translation."
"Trans...lafuh?" she said.
It would have been absurd to warn her not to talk with her mouth full. Lawrence plucked a bread crumb from the corner of her mouth and nodded. "Yes. They asked me to translate this troublesome Church document into the language they're familiar with, so that scuffles like yesterday's won't happen."
It was work that would cost them a goodly amount if they had to go to a town to have it done.
Of course, while he was not charging them for the service, Lawrence was unable to guarantee the accuracy of his translation.

Output:
After tossing off this smile-freezing line, Holo popped the last remnant of lunch into her mouth and then moved away from Lawrence's side.
"I wish you'd hesitate a little for my sake, at least," Lawrence murmured to Holo's back with a long-suffering sigh. He started to return to his work when he realized something. "Hey, that's mine—"
No sooner had Lawrence said this than Holo was already chewing on her second piece of bread.
"Come, don't make such a nasty face. 'Twas only a bit of a joke."
"If it's only a joke, why is there so little bread left?"
"I ought to be allowed to beg from you a little at least."
"Such honor you do me," said Lawrence sarcastically, which made a displeased Holo sit upon the table at which he was working.
He wondered whether she was about to flirt with him in her usual way when she suddenly looked down at him with a malicious smile. "Perhaps I'll go beg from the villagers next time, then, eh? 'Sir, sir, please, might I have some bread?'"
It hardly needed to be said whom such an act would harm. But if he gave in here, he really would be spoiling her.
"Just how many servings do you plan to eat, then?" he shot back, snatching the bread away from Holo's clutches and returning to his work.
Holo drew her chin in irritably and sighed. It occurred to Lawrence that he was the one who should be sighing, but then—
"I suppose when the villagers ask me that question, I'll put a hand to my belly and answer thus..."
Lawrence knew if he went along with this, he would lose. He picked up his quill as though refusing to listen.
"'Well...I'm eating for two now, so...,' I'll say," said Holo, leaning over and murmuring in Lawrence's ear.
Lawrence spit the bread right out of his mouth, which was in no way a deliberate overreaction.
Holo smirked viciously. "What, is this the first time you've realized I eat enough for two?" she asked deliberately.
In negotiations, the winner was whoever used all the weapons at their disposal. Still, Holo used her weapons too well.
Just as Lawrence had decided not to listen further to a single word she said and was brushing the table free of crumbs, Holo's hand shot out and plucked the link of sausage contained within the piece of bread.
"Heh. Come now, you've been working there since morning—you'll get wrinkles on your forehead if you keep it up. Go outside and take in some of the cold air, eh?"
If Lawrence had been inclined to take her at her word, the way he had been when they'd first started their journey together, he would've told her to mind her own business—and thereby invited her ire.
Lawrence was silent for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He then raised a hand to about shoulder height to indicate his surrender and spoke. "I can't let seed grain fall on a field that's already been harvested."
"Mm. I can't promise I won't take a liking to the wheat here."
It was a joke only Holo-who-lived-in-wheat could tell.
She put her robe's hood over her head, hid her swishing tail, and made for the door, putting out her hand to open it.
"It's true that your taking a liking to the wheat here would be troublesome. I couldn't stand to watch you eating food off the ground," said Lawrence.
At this, Holo puffed out her cheeks in irritation and bit another piece off the bread that Lawrence held.
Taking a leisurely look around the village was not such a bad way to pass the time, and Holo hadn't visited a normal village like this one since leaving Pasloe.
And while she might not have left Pasloe with much fondness, the atmosphere of the small farming village was still a comfortingly familiar one. She gazed at the hay, bundled and set aside as compost, and the tools leaning here and there, still dirty from use, all common sights back in Pasloe.
"They don't have much trade with towns, so evidently they sow beans even during this season."


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

Input:
After tossing off this smile-freezing line, Holo popped the last remnant of lunch into her mouth and then moved away from Lawrence's side.
"I wish you'd hesitate a little for my sake, at least," Lawrence murmured to Holo's back with a long-suffering sigh. He started to return to his work when he realized something. "Hey, that's mine—"
No sooner had Lawrence said this than Holo was already chewing on her second piece of bread.
"Come, don't make such a nasty face. 'Twas only a bit of a joke."
"If it's only a joke, why is there so little bread left?"
"I ought to be allowed to beg from you a little at least."
"Such honor you do me," said Lawrence sarcastically, which made a displeased Holo sit upon the table at which he was working.
He wondered whether she was about to flirt with him in her usual way when she suddenly looked down at him with a malicious smile. "Perhaps I'll go beg from the villagers next time, then, eh? 'Sir, sir, please, might I have some bread?'"
It hardly needed to be said whom such an act would harm. But if he gave in here, he really would be spoiling her.
"Just how many servings do you plan to eat, then?" he shot back, snatching the bread away from Holo's clutches and returning to his work.
Holo drew her chin in irritably and sighed. It occurred to Lawrence that he was the one who should be sighing, but then—
"I suppose when the villagers ask me that question, I'll put a hand to my belly and answer thus..."
Lawrence knew if he went along with this, he would lose. He picked up his quill as though refusing to listen.
"'Well...I'm eating for two now, so...,' I'll say," said Holo, leaning over and murmuring in Lawrence's ear.
Lawrence spit the bread right out of his mouth, which was in no way a deliberate overreaction.
Holo smirked viciously. "What, is this the first time you've realized I eat enough for two?" she asked deliberately.
In negotiations, the winner was whoever used all the weapons at their disposal. Still, Holo used her weapons too well.
Just as Lawrence had decided not to listen further to a single word she said and was brushing the table free of crumbs, Holo's hand shot out and plucked the link of sausage contained within the piece of bread.
"Heh. Come now, you've been working there since morning—you'll get wrinkles on your forehead if you keep it up. Go outside and take in some of the cold air, eh?"
If Lawrence had been inclined to take her at her word, the way he had been when they'd first started their journey together, he would've told her to mind her own business—and thereby invited her ire.
Lawrence was silent for a moment, then closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He then raised a hand to about shoulder height to indicate his surrender and spoke. "I can't let seed grain fall on a field that's already been harvested."
"Mm. I can't promise I won't take a liking to the wheat here."
It was a joke only Holo-who-lived-in-wheat could tell.
She put her robe's hood over her head, hid her swishing tail, and made for the door, putting out her hand to open it.
"It's true that your taking a liking to the wheat here would be troublesome. I couldn't stand to watch you eating food off the ground," said Lawrence.
At this, Holo puffed out her cheeks in irritation and bit another piece off the bread that Lawrence held.
Taking a leisurely look around the village was not such a bad way to pass the time, and Holo hadn't visited a normal village like this one since leaving Pasloe.
And while she might not have left Pasloe with much fondness, the atmosphere of the small farming village was still a comfortingly familiar one. She gazed at the hay, bundled and set aside as compost, and the tools leaning here and there, still dirty from use, all common sights back in Pasloe.
"They don't have much trade with towns, so evidently they sow beans even during this season."

Output:
The nearest town was three days away by horse cart, and worse, that town refused to do business with the village out of fear of accident.
Securing a food supply was the villagers' first priority; everything else came after that.
"Beans are good for when the soil's been exhausted. Of course, the earth here is good enough that they should be able to get good harvests for a while without worrying over such details."
It didn't take long for them to reach the edge of the village, and from there the fields continued for as far as they could see—an impressive feat given the village's population.
Given that the fields lacked fences or trenches, the land was probably communally worked.
The forms of a few villagers could be seen in the direction of the spring, perhaps digging irrigation ditches.
The usefulness of a lie was suddenly clear, since just as Holo had said, the lines had disappeared from Lawrence's forehead thanks to their excursion.
"So, how much do you suppose you'll be able to wring from this village?"
The fence that enclosed the village was sturdier than its rickety appearance suggested. Holo sat on it, so Lawrence did likewise, waving to the villagers in the field who'd finally noticed them before he looked at Holo. "That's not a very nice way to put it."
"You were putting things much more nastily yesterday."
For a moment Lawrence wondered if Holo's ill temper the night before had been because he'd seemed too greedy. But no, given how amused she seemed now, that was surely not so.
"Profit is generated whenever goods are exchanged. If it's going to come bubbling up without my having to do any work, I have only to drink my fill."
"Hmm...As though 'twere wine, eh?"
She was talking about the wine made from drippings collected from skin or cloth bags of grapes hung from eaves. The grapes crushed themselves under their own weight, and the flavor was incomparable.
As usual, the wolf's knowledge of food and drink was quite thorough.
"This time I ought to be able to turn a profit without relying on you. For an opportunity met through happenstance by the wayside, it's quite large. Even if you do stuff yourself with chicken."
A gentle breeze blew, and the mooing calls of cattle could be heard in the distance. He barely had enough time to notice how quiet it was before the piercing clucking of chickens sounded behind them.
"I have depended on your abilities quite a bit, after all. It's nice this way, even just as a change of pace, isn't it?"
He was counting his chickens before they hatched a bit, but surely he'd be forgiven this much. Plus, if he weighed what Holo's drink and food cost against how much her help had earned him, the latter was by far the greater. In all honesty, sometimes he wanted her to eat and drink without any care.
"So you—"
"Hmm?"
"You truly imagine I could eat and drink without worry?"
Lawrence realized something, and in that moment it felt as though time stopped. "Is that why you were angry last night...?"
She might beg him for this or that, but it wasn't as though that was all Holo did. She always repaid her debts and was a constant help to him at every turn during their travels.
Wasn't it because she hated being singled out as special that Holo so detested being called a god? If so, Lawrence's concern might have had the opposite of its intended effect.
"It's not something you need agonize over...that's what I think anyway. You're honorable to a fault, after all."
At these words Holo shot him a resentful glance, as though angry at having been made to explain something she didn't want to. "Hmph. I'm only an ignorant wolf, after all. I can't even read those words."
Already anxious about not contributing, Holo would have awoken to see Lawrence toiling away at the desk. From her perspective it would've seemed like he was deliberately spiting her.
"Ah, if that's the problem, then I have an idea."
"...?" Holo's expression softened, and she looked at him.


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

Input:
The nearest town was three days away by horse cart, and worse, that town refused to do business with the village out of fear of accident.
Securing a food supply was the villagers' first priority; everything else came after that.
"Beans are good for when the soil's been exhausted. Of course, the earth here is good enough that they should be able to get good harvests for a while without worrying over such details."
It didn't take long for them to reach the edge of the village, and from there the fields continued for as far as they could see—an impressive feat given the village's population.
Given that the fields lacked fences or trenches, the land was probably communally worked.
The forms of a few villagers could be seen in the direction of the spring, perhaps digging irrigation ditches.
The usefulness of a lie was suddenly clear, since just as Holo had said, the lines had disappeared from Lawrence's forehead thanks to their excursion.
"So, how much do you suppose you'll be able to wring from this village?"
The fence that enclosed the village was sturdier than its rickety appearance suggested. Holo sat on it, so Lawrence did likewise, waving to the villagers in the field who'd finally noticed them before he looked at Holo. "That's not a very nice way to put it."
"You were putting things much more nastily yesterday."
For a moment Lawrence wondered if Holo's ill temper the night before had been because he'd seemed too greedy. But no, given how amused she seemed now, that was surely not so.
"Profit is generated whenever goods are exchanged. If it's going to come bubbling up without my having to do any work, I have only to drink my fill."
"Hmm...As though 'twere wine, eh?"
She was talking about the wine made from drippings collected from skin or cloth bags of grapes hung from eaves. The grapes crushed themselves under their own weight, and the flavor was incomparable.
As usual, the wolf's knowledge of food and drink was quite thorough.
"This time I ought to be able to turn a profit without relying on you. For an opportunity met through happenstance by the wayside, it's quite large. Even if you do stuff yourself with chicken."
A gentle breeze blew, and the mooing calls of cattle could be heard in the distance. He barely had enough time to notice how quiet it was before the piercing clucking of chickens sounded behind them.
"I have depended on your abilities quite a bit, after all. It's nice this way, even just as a change of pace, isn't it?"
He was counting his chickens before they hatched a bit, but surely he'd be forgiven this much. Plus, if he weighed what Holo's drink and food cost against how much her help had earned him, the latter was by far the greater. In all honesty, sometimes he wanted her to eat and drink without any care.
"So you—"
"Hmm?"
"You truly imagine I could eat and drink without worry?"
Lawrence realized something, and in that moment it felt as though time stopped. "Is that why you were angry last night...?"
She might beg him for this or that, but it wasn't as though that was all Holo did. She always repaid her debts and was a constant help to him at every turn during their travels.
Wasn't it because she hated being singled out as special that Holo so detested being called a god? If so, Lawrence's concern might have had the opposite of its intended effect.
"It's not something you need agonize over...that's what I think anyway. You're honorable to a fault, after all."
At these words Holo shot him a resentful glance, as though angry at having been made to explain something she didn't want to. "Hmph. I'm only an ignorant wolf, after all. I can't even read those words."
Already anxious about not contributing, Holo would have awoken to see Lawrence toiling away at the desk. From her perspective it would've seemed like he was deliberately spiting her.
"Ah, if that's the problem, then I have an idea."
"...?" Holo's expression softened, and she looked at him.

Output:
The joke was sharp enough that Holo seemed to have difficulty knowing whether to be angry or not. A complicated expression passed over her face before she puffed her cheeks out and turned away.
"I'm sure they'd be happy to get even a bit of wisdom. They've gotten into farming without even knowing what a sheepfold is. Isn't there something you could tell them?" Lawrence then added, "The happier they are, the easier my work will be."
Holo looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears—"such cunning tricks you use," they seemed to say. "Hn..."
"Come, you needn't agonize so. Surely there's some small thing you could teach them," Lawrence said with a smile, which made Holo close her eyes in thought.
Her brow wrinkled, and her ears flicked back and forth beneath her hood.
She really was too honorable for her own good.
Still smiling, Lawrence turned his gaze away from Holo, directing it lazily upward at a bird flying overhead. Just then—
"Mr. Lawrence!"
Hearing the sound of his name being called, Lawrence looked back at the village.
"Mr. Lawrence!"
The voice coming from behind him was the village elder's.
"Ah, sorry, my translation isn't yet..."
"No, no—I know we've already burdened you with work, and it pains me to admit it, but there's another matter I'd like to ask you about..."
"Another matter?" Lawrence made an effort to hide his excitement, given the village's current difficulty in obtaining goods. He stole a glance at Holo, whose face was sulky and uninterested. "Well, if there's anything I can do, I'll be happy to."
It would have been a lie for him not to smile here.
The village elder seemed enormously relieved at Lawrence's open smile. "Oh, thank goodness. I'm so grateful. Truth be told, the village has recently had more and more problems like the one you saw yesterday. I was hoping we could borrow your wisdom..."
"...My wisdom?" asked Lawrence, still smiling.
At this the elder explained the problem, a look of utter desperation on his face.
Lawrence hung his head, agonizing over the amount of parchment on the desk before him that had yet to be translated.
The problem that the elder had brought to him was, in fairness, something common to all villages. But older communities had long-established ways to resolve such problems—be it divine decree, the authority of the village elder, a certificate from a nearby lord, or a village assembly whose decisions were absolute.
But this village had none of those.
When a newly established community collapsed, the cause was often a lack of a strong force bringing people together. Those were the difficult circumstances this village found itself in, and it was amid such circumstances that they presented Lawrence with their problem. Unsurprisingly, it concerned land divisions.
Evidently the lord had only vaguely defined the village territory and then left it up to individuals to decide how to divide it up into the amounts they had each been allotted.
And that was the problem.
They had been allotted a certain size, but nothing about the physical arrangement of those parcels had been written down.
"So everyone just chose bits of land here and there, and we didn't realize we needed a common point of reference until disputes started happening."
"Right. When the village was just starting out, there was enough land that there wouldn't be problems right away. But without a starting reference, you end up with small slivers of land where nobody knows who they belong to—if I drew a map it'd be plain as day."
"I should think tearing a piece of flatbread into pieces would make a better example than any map," said an amused Holo as she sat on the desk.
"Oat bread, you mean? I doubt they'd find such tough stuff tasty."
"I suppose I wouldn't claim it's delicious if you asked me, but that texture is addictive. My fangs do itch for it from time to time...," said Holo with a grin, flashing her sharp fangs.
Lawrence couldn't help but flinch a bit.