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

Input:
"If you want to enjoy the bustling grand market..." Holo's wolf ears under her hood perked up in response, the faintest bit of sobriety returning to her eyes as he continued. "...then we need to get the problem at the bishopric squared away quickly. Once the market's business days are over, the other merchants might start poking their noses in this matter."
Holo, who had been studying the map, slowly closed her eyes, then gave a big nod.
"I suppose we will need to hurry..."
"It really helps that you understand. Well then, there's no problem with the painting, so you don't mind if we head off right away, yeah?"
Holo turned to look at Lawrence, her red eyes misty from the alcohol.
The reason she looked irritated—like when things were not exactly aligned—was because she was weighing the bustle of a grand market she had not yet seen against staying in this town to fuss over the painting and eat fried fish to her heart's content.
"Well?" he asked, and Holo nodded with a sigh, then let out a loud sneeze.
The day after Holo had passed out drunk and Lawrence carried her back to the inn, they were already on the road. Despite how long it had been since their serious traveling days, they still always made sure they were ready to leave at a moment's notice.
"Agh...Fresh fish from the sea was surprisingly delectable...Perhaps we should have stayed in town for a bit longer."
For a day to begin travel, the weather was unpleasant. A cold wind blew in from the west.
Holo sat snuggled up against the cargo in the cart bed, a woolen shawl draped over her shoulders. She muttered to herself as she wrote in her diary as usual.
"The town with the grand market is at the base of the mountains that divide the region's breadbasket from the coastline. Whether it's from the plains and the mountains, the north and the south, or the east and the west, all sorts of things gather here, and that's why they have fruits as good as what you can find in the mountains."
When Lawrence said this while driving their carriage forward, Holo's ears flicked underneath her hood.
"Of course, there's plenty of liquor made from those choice fruits, and since it is the center of the grain trade, there are plenty of bakers. The place is sure to be packed with all sorts of pastries that use tons of fruit."
There was a scraping sound, almost like a broom, which was likely Holo's tail swishing in anticipation and excitement.
Lawrence laughed silently when there came a sudden smack at the back of his head.
"Ow! Hey, what was that for?"
"You fool! 'Tis because you try to entice me with food!"
"That's not why I said all that. It's because we're going to be leading a dull life on the road for a little while. You can endure it if you have a prize to look forward to at the end, right?"
"You might insist we be frugal even after enduring so much!"
He was about to say, Have you ever actually been frugal just because of that, though? but she had worked hard back in Atiph and had earned her pay.
Even Lawrence, who never forgot his roots as a merchant, had no intention of saying aloud what he might have a long time ago.
"I've made sure to calculate all the money you earned from working. Plus my winnings from speculating on the herring eggs. I won't ask you to scrimp when we've got so much. You should be able to enjoy quite a bit of luxury this time."
"Hmph," Holo huffed, then leaped nimbly onto the driver's perch.
Since it had not been long since they left Atiph, there were plenty of travelers on the road.
Though they were still vigilant about not letting people catch a glimpse of Holo's ears and tail, since it was a cold, cloudy day that made it seem as though winter had come earlier than usual, piles of wools and furs were a common sight. Peeking out from underneath her coat, Holo's tail simply seemed like an eccentric item she used to keep herself warm.

Output:
Her tail was quite soft and fluffy. She constantly combed it and applied scented oil on a daily basis. And because it was suffused with her body heat, it was the warmest thing on cold days like this. Whether or not she would put it under the lap blanket made a huge difference in the comfort of a journey.
"You're so greedy..."
Lawrence sighed when she cackled, then used the reins to urge the horse forward.
"Well, even if you don't, I might need your cooperation for this upcoming job. If you help out, I'll be sure to thank you."
"Oh?"
Perhaps growing tired of the playful ribbing of their earlier exchange, Holo gave her tail one last brush before placing it under their shared lap blanket.
"And what sort of business is it? I drank just a little too much yesterday."
Lawrence mouthed silently to himself, I'd use different words to describe last night..., but then responded without mentioning how he had to take care of her when she passed out.
"The cause is the same as Atiph—the commotion that Col and Myuri are stirring up."
Holo looked back at Atiph, which was just about to vanish from view in the distance, then turned back to Lawrence.
"Every church and abbey has indulged in accumulating wealth for a long time. The original purpose wasn't to feed a love for money but to pursue a nobler idea of being able to perform charitable acts with the riches with which they were entrusted. In the end, though, it was mostly a corrupt practice. On top of that, since they naturally came to value those who excelled in trade, people who could put merchants to shame started throwing their weight about, which only made the problem worse."
Holo nodded, yawned loudly, then rubbed her watering eyes against Lawrence's shoulder. Despite how by all appearances it seemed like she had no interest in hearing any more, Lawrence could tell by the movement of her ears underneath her hood that she was paying attention, so he continued.
"And since the exacerbation of those problems over time caused the current cries for reform, the Church is apparently reassigning important clergy in order to avoid the people's dissatisfaction, especially in more radical areas. But that again is causing new problems."
"Mm. I can see the picture now. 'Tis all well they have changed who manages where, but I suppose that means they've not thought of what comes after."
Holo's eyes then started wandering restlessly, perhaps because she was searching for jerky or something.
She seemed to quickly deduce that it was in the cart behind her and pouted.
"Exactly. And in order to show the people of the area the results of their reform, they're choosing replacements who are especially zealous, so the problems are only multiplying."
"Little Col is smart, but I doubt he is much suited for trade. Those boys in the town we were just in wanted to be more like him by involving themselves in the trade in a town they knew not much of, did they not?"
They had a feeling that the young priest in Atiph who wanted to crack down on things in the name of God's teachings had even mimicked the way Col spoke.
Wondering how much attention Col and Myuri had been gathering throughout the world, Holo and Lawrence had attempted to collect stories of their activities, but every retelling they heard was jaw-dropping, making it virtually impossible to sift fact from fiction. It was likely that most of it was exaggeration. With the peace ushered in by the end of the war between the pagans and the Church, recent events were the perfect fodder for people who were starved for gossip and tall tales.
Though Myuri loved to stand out, Col was probably exhausted by everything going on.
Lawrence shrugged his shoulders, and Holo yawned loudly again.
Generally, Holo was always either eating or sleeping.
"Yaaawn...However, I do not see what you will need to borrow my powers for in such a matter."
"Well, I'm also hoping things won't come to that," he responded, and she slipped the tail out from under their lap blanket.


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

Input:
Her tail was quite soft and fluffy. She constantly combed it and applied scented oil on a daily basis. And because it was suffused with her body heat, it was the warmest thing on cold days like this. Whether or not she would put it under the lap blanket made a huge difference in the comfort of a journey.
"You're so greedy..."
Lawrence sighed when she cackled, then used the reins to urge the horse forward.
"Well, even if you don't, I might need your cooperation for this upcoming job. If you help out, I'll be sure to thank you."
"Oh?"
Perhaps growing tired of the playful ribbing of their earlier exchange, Holo gave her tail one last brush before placing it under their shared lap blanket.
"And what sort of business is it? I drank just a little too much yesterday."
Lawrence mouthed silently to himself, I'd use different words to describe last night..., but then responded without mentioning how he had to take care of her when she passed out.
"The cause is the same as Atiph—the commotion that Col and Myuri are stirring up."
Holo looked back at Atiph, which was just about to vanish from view in the distance, then turned back to Lawrence.
"Every church and abbey has indulged in accumulating wealth for a long time. The original purpose wasn't to feed a love for money but to pursue a nobler idea of being able to perform charitable acts with the riches with which they were entrusted. In the end, though, it was mostly a corrupt practice. On top of that, since they naturally came to value those who excelled in trade, people who could put merchants to shame started throwing their weight about, which only made the problem worse."
Holo nodded, yawned loudly, then rubbed her watering eyes against Lawrence's shoulder. Despite how by all appearances it seemed like she had no interest in hearing any more, Lawrence could tell by the movement of her ears underneath her hood that she was paying attention, so he continued.
"And since the exacerbation of those problems over time caused the current cries for reform, the Church is apparently reassigning important clergy in order to avoid the people's dissatisfaction, especially in more radical areas. But that again is causing new problems."
"Mm. I can see the picture now. 'Tis all well they have changed who manages where, but I suppose that means they've not thought of what comes after."
Holo's eyes then started wandering restlessly, perhaps because she was searching for jerky or something.
She seemed to quickly deduce that it was in the cart behind her and pouted.
"Exactly. And in order to show the people of the area the results of their reform, they're choosing replacements who are especially zealous, so the problems are only multiplying."
"Little Col is smart, but I doubt he is much suited for trade. Those boys in the town we were just in wanted to be more like him by involving themselves in the trade in a town they knew not much of, did they not?"
They had a feeling that the young priest in Atiph who wanted to crack down on things in the name of God's teachings had even mimicked the way Col spoke.
Wondering how much attention Col and Myuri had been gathering throughout the world, Holo and Lawrence had attempted to collect stories of their activities, but every retelling they heard was jaw-dropping, making it virtually impossible to sift fact from fiction. It was likely that most of it was exaggeration. With the peace ushered in by the end of the war between the pagans and the Church, recent events were the perfect fodder for people who were starved for gossip and tall tales.
Though Myuri loved to stand out, Col was probably exhausted by everything going on.
Lawrence shrugged his shoulders, and Holo yawned loudly again.
Generally, Holo was always either eating or sleeping.
"Yaaawn...However, I do not see what you will need to borrow my powers for in such a matter."
"Well, I'm also hoping things won't come to that," he responded, and she slipped the tail out from under their lap blanket.

Output:
Holo shot him a doubtful look as she reluctantly put her tail back inside.
"Sheesh...I'd appreciate it if you stopped holding your tail hostage."
"You want so badly to be henpecked, do you?"
Holo stifled her laughter, and Lawrence heaved a tired sigh. She had drunk, ate, and slept her fill the day before, so it seemed like she had an overabundance of playful energy.
"Anyway, this newly appointed priest's worries cropped up when he checked the permits to see what sort of assets his new post possessed, and he discovered that there's a shocking plot of land in his territory."
"And that would be?"
As Lawrence turned toward the centuries-old wolf avatar who sat next to him, he said, "A cursed mountain rumored to house a fallen angel."
The Vallan Bishopric was named in the letter.
It was located in a lonely area that was barely populated, but since a pass—though it was more accurately described as a rough trail mostly used by the wildlife—connected it with the grand market on the other side of the mountains, they had just managed to scrape by.
But then one day, an enormously wealthy merchant passing through the area stayed at a woeful inn run by a farmer and died in his room. This merchant was frugality itself and had decided to reach the great fair by taking a very unmaintained path all so he did not have to pay tariffs while on the road. However, on his deathbed, he felt remorse for how stingy he had been in life and left all his assets to the farmer who cared for him. His only parting wish was for a church to be built there.
The farmer might have quietly squirreled away the money if it had just been a few gold coins left over in the merchant's purse, but he had inherited a vast sum, enough to build a castle.
The farmer understood this as a task given to him by God, so he fervently acted on the man's final wishes by summoning the local clergy, erecting the church, improving the road, and obtaining all the lands and permits they possibly could to safeguard the endowment.
Now, either because the farmer had good eyes because he worked the land day in and day out or perhaps because of some divine intervention, it became clear that rock salt and metals could be procured from the recently secured lands. This tiny church just off the road had made a huge profit and was immediately declared an independent diocese and bestowed with a cathedral.
Vallan was the name of that mythical farmer from around two hundred years ago.
"I made a mistake in my choice of husband."
It was the fourth day on the road since leaving Atiph. That was what Holo had said as she wrote down in her diary what they had learned about the Vallan Bishopric at the inn the night before.
"Really now? By the way, Vallan abstained from meat and alcohol and worked all day from before sunup to after midnight. I hear he even made his wife and kids lead the same kind of life."
Lawrence glanced at Holo; she had once again helped herself to plenty of drink at the inn the previous night.
Holo, gripping the quill between her middle and ring fingers and a pork sausage between her thumb and index finger, looked back and forth between Lawrence and the meaty treat, then smiled.
"I love you."
"Only if I keep plying you with meat and alcohol, you mean," Lawrence said, drained, and Holo bumped his shoulder with a gleeful smile. "Well, even if the story is a trifle exaggerated, that's how the bishopric got so big. For generations, they always strived to make lots of money, but those efforts only went well for about a hundred years or so."
"Did their source of wealth dry up?"
"First, their salt mines were abandoned because of a groundwater flood. If you go down the mine shaft now, it's apparently just a salty subterranean lake."
"'Twould be perfect for salting food, though."


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

Input:
Holo shot him a doubtful look as she reluctantly put her tail back inside.
"Sheesh...I'd appreciate it if you stopped holding your tail hostage."
"You want so badly to be henpecked, do you?"
Holo stifled her laughter, and Lawrence heaved a tired sigh. She had drunk, ate, and slept her fill the day before, so it seemed like she had an overabundance of playful energy.
"Anyway, this newly appointed priest's worries cropped up when he checked the permits to see what sort of assets his new post possessed, and he discovered that there's a shocking plot of land in his territory."
"And that would be?"
As Lawrence turned toward the centuries-old wolf avatar who sat next to him, he said, "A cursed mountain rumored to house a fallen angel."
The Vallan Bishopric was named in the letter.
It was located in a lonely area that was barely populated, but since a pass—though it was more accurately described as a rough trail mostly used by the wildlife—connected it with the grand market on the other side of the mountains, they had just managed to scrape by.
But then one day, an enormously wealthy merchant passing through the area stayed at a woeful inn run by a farmer and died in his room. This merchant was frugality itself and had decided to reach the great fair by taking a very unmaintained path all so he did not have to pay tariffs while on the road. However, on his deathbed, he felt remorse for how stingy he had been in life and left all his assets to the farmer who cared for him. His only parting wish was for a church to be built there.
The farmer might have quietly squirreled away the money if it had just been a few gold coins left over in the merchant's purse, but he had inherited a vast sum, enough to build a castle.
The farmer understood this as a task given to him by God, so he fervently acted on the man's final wishes by summoning the local clergy, erecting the church, improving the road, and obtaining all the lands and permits they possibly could to safeguard the endowment.
Now, either because the farmer had good eyes because he worked the land day in and day out or perhaps because of some divine intervention, it became clear that rock salt and metals could be procured from the recently secured lands. This tiny church just off the road had made a huge profit and was immediately declared an independent diocese and bestowed with a cathedral.
Vallan was the name of that mythical farmer from around two hundred years ago.
"I made a mistake in my choice of husband."
It was the fourth day on the road since leaving Atiph. That was what Holo had said as she wrote down in her diary what they had learned about the Vallan Bishopric at the inn the night before.
"Really now? By the way, Vallan abstained from meat and alcohol and worked all day from before sunup to after midnight. I hear he even made his wife and kids lead the same kind of life."
Lawrence glanced at Holo; she had once again helped herself to plenty of drink at the inn the previous night.
Holo, gripping the quill between her middle and ring fingers and a pork sausage between her thumb and index finger, looked back and forth between Lawrence and the meaty treat, then smiled.
"I love you."
"Only if I keep plying you with meat and alcohol, you mean," Lawrence said, drained, and Holo bumped his shoulder with a gleeful smile. "Well, even if the story is a trifle exaggerated, that's how the bishopric got so big. For generations, they always strived to make lots of money, but those efforts only went well for about a hundred years or so."
"Did their source of wealth dry up?"
"First, their salt mines were abandoned because of a groundwater flood. If you go down the mine shaft now, it's apparently just a salty subterranean lake."
"'Twould be perfect for salting food, though."

Output:
Holo's face clouded over as she wrote the story down in her diary; as a wolf who lived in the forest, she had always hated the mines that destroyed the wood.
"And in time, that dried up as well?"
And the evil was destroyed? was what Holo was asking, and Lawrence nodded vaguely.
"What ran out first wasn't the metal but the forest."
***
Holo looked like a princess whose favorite knight lost a jousting match, and her gaze dropped back to her diary.
"Until then, they'd apparently dig out the ore, then refine it and make crafts from the ingots on the spot. Since they didn't have regulations like you'd find from a guild in a regular town, a lot of artisans were attracted to these unrestricted workshops and gathered there. The place flourished."
Holo huffed in discontent, moving the quill with rough strokes.
"But metallurgy requires a massive amount of fuel. Mines already need heaps of lumber for the gallery support beams and waterwheels for drainage. When you get a lot of people who work there together, you need firewood for cooking and material to make houses."
"And so after felling all the nearby trees, they discovered the land does not easily recover from the mine's poison."
Holo pursed her lips as if to add, "'Twas their own fault."
"That was how the wildly booming mining town collapsed just as fast as it grew. That happened probably about seventy, eighty years ago."
"Hmm."
To Holo, it happened just the other day, but from Lawrence's perspective, this was a story from before he was born.
"Once the timber ran out and the people's livelihoods couldn't be supported anymore, the mines themselves closed down, and the production rate plummeted. And since the metal couldn't be refined without firewood, they were forced to ferry the heavy ores themselves to far-off towns. Profits dipped, of course, which only further encouraged people to leave, and the land became a ghost town before long."
"And the mountain is still nude, yes?" Holo asked, vexed.
"No, that's not how things turned out, apparently."
"Hmm?"
Surprised, Holo looked up.
"That means you don't remember at all, do you? Even though you kept insisting, I am not drunk!"
Holo was supposed to be a proud wolf, but she wore an entirely indifferent expression. It did not seem like she had any recollection of how drunk she had been.
That said, Lawrence understood why Holo never reflected on her heavy drinking. That was because Holo understood him far too well—he did, in a way, enjoy taking care of her when she was like that.
Lawrence sighed, lamenting how unfortunate that was, and continued.
"All that was left behind were exhausted mines, those forced to stay after exhausting their fortunes, and a mountain stripped bare. What appeared then was a troupe of alchemists."
Holo, who had been looking away in a huff like a cheeky little girl, turned back toward Lawrence with serious eyes.
"That forbidden text about mining techniques that we were chasing all that time ago was also written by an alchemist, remember?"
The question of whether or not the world had been created by God aside, it had always been the alchemists who cut open the forests in which the ancient spirits like Holo had run rampant, developing techniques to put them under humanity's control.
In that sense, the name of an alchemist was something even more detestable than a shepherd to Holo.
"But, well, this is where things started to get weird," Lawrence said, pilfering a piece of sausage that sat on a wooden plate beside Holo and bringing it to his mouth. "Instead of using technology to pull metal out of the mines, they used magic for refinement."
"Magic?"
Holo herself was like a fairy tale come to life; when she had once been asked if she had seen a witch in a deep-black forest, she replied bluntly that those who ate strange mushrooms to dream had likely seen her.
But if what the innkeeper had told Lawrence was true, then he could say those alchemists were genuine sorcerers.


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

Input:
Holo's face clouded over as she wrote the story down in her diary; as a wolf who lived in the forest, she had always hated the mines that destroyed the wood.
"And in time, that dried up as well?"
And the evil was destroyed? was what Holo was asking, and Lawrence nodded vaguely.
"What ran out first wasn't the metal but the forest."
***
Holo looked like a princess whose favorite knight lost a jousting match, and her gaze dropped back to her diary.
"Until then, they'd apparently dig out the ore, then refine it and make crafts from the ingots on the spot. Since they didn't have regulations like you'd find from a guild in a regular town, a lot of artisans were attracted to these unrestricted workshops and gathered there. The place flourished."
Holo huffed in discontent, moving the quill with rough strokes.
"But metallurgy requires a massive amount of fuel. Mines already need heaps of lumber for the gallery support beams and waterwheels for drainage. When you get a lot of people who work there together, you need firewood for cooking and material to make houses."
"And so after felling all the nearby trees, they discovered the land does not easily recover from the mine's poison."
Holo pursed her lips as if to add, "'Twas their own fault."
"That was how the wildly booming mining town collapsed just as fast as it grew. That happened probably about seventy, eighty years ago."
"Hmm."
To Holo, it happened just the other day, but from Lawrence's perspective, this was a story from before he was born.
"Once the timber ran out and the people's livelihoods couldn't be supported anymore, the mines themselves closed down, and the production rate plummeted. And since the metal couldn't be refined without firewood, they were forced to ferry the heavy ores themselves to far-off towns. Profits dipped, of course, which only further encouraged people to leave, and the land became a ghost town before long."
"And the mountain is still nude, yes?" Holo asked, vexed.
"No, that's not how things turned out, apparently."
"Hmm?"
Surprised, Holo looked up.
"That means you don't remember at all, do you? Even though you kept insisting, I am not drunk!"
Holo was supposed to be a proud wolf, but she wore an entirely indifferent expression. It did not seem like she had any recollection of how drunk she had been.
That said, Lawrence understood why Holo never reflected on her heavy drinking. That was because Holo understood him far too well—he did, in a way, enjoy taking care of her when she was like that.
Lawrence sighed, lamenting how unfortunate that was, and continued.
"All that was left behind were exhausted mines, those forced to stay after exhausting their fortunes, and a mountain stripped bare. What appeared then was a troupe of alchemists."
Holo, who had been looking away in a huff like a cheeky little girl, turned back toward Lawrence with serious eyes.
"That forbidden text about mining techniques that we were chasing all that time ago was also written by an alchemist, remember?"
The question of whether or not the world had been created by God aside, it had always been the alchemists who cut open the forests in which the ancient spirits like Holo had run rampant, developing techniques to put them under humanity's control.
In that sense, the name of an alchemist was something even more detestable than a shepherd to Holo.
"But, well, this is where things started to get weird," Lawrence said, pilfering a piece of sausage that sat on a wooden plate beside Holo and bringing it to his mouth. "Instead of using technology to pull metal out of the mines, they used magic for refinement."
"Magic?"
Holo herself was like a fairy tale come to life; when she had once been asked if she had seen a witch in a deep-black forest, she replied bluntly that those who ate strange mushrooms to dream had likely seen her.
But if what the innkeeper had told Lawrence was true, then he could say those alchemists were genuine sorcerers.

Output:
Holo had not lived hundreds of years for show, and she had visited many towns on her travels with Lawrence. She was naturally intelligent, and she rarely forgot—unless it was convenient for her—anything she saw or heard. Before she considered the possibility of magic, she proposed another explanation.
"Was it not that smelly peat?"
"Peat can burn, but its flame really isn't strong enough. And it isn't like they harvested coal from the area. It wasn't bitumen, either."
Bitumen was a black liquid known as flammable water. It was expensive, and Lawrence more often saw it used to preserve the integrity of ships and structures rather than as a fuel.
"The alchemists apparently created magic for purifying metal without fire, then used it on the meager amounts of ore that was produced by the mines and saved those who had been left behind from a dismal fate. If they could refine metal without using firewood, then they'd make so much money it would keep a smile on their faces for the rest of their lives, you see. Not only that, but creating fire out of nothing meant that it would help bring back the foliage to the bald mountain."
"Mm." Holo displayed great interest in that last sentence and asked, "And did life return to the mountain?"
"It did."
"Oh ho."
This sight was what most would call a blooming smile. Lawrence found himself happy to see her beaming like that, but Holo herself understood that this was not all there was to the story.
"Still, if they simply lived happily ever after, you would not have said you might need my power, no?"
"Indeed. And they wouldn't call it a cursed mountain, either."
Holo brought her shapely eyebrows together, creating deep wrinkles between them. Her gaze swam, possibly because she could not find the single thread that tied the whole story together.
"Has someone like little Col deemed fireless refinement as sorcery?"
Shocking people's common sense ran the risk of being accused of doing the devil's work and committing blasphemy.
"I considered that, too, and the bishop from Atiph who asked me to take this on seemed to have the same idea. That the ones who visited the mountain weren't alchemists but fallen angels who were there to lead people astray."
"Then is that to say there is a creature with wings, a goat's head, and a horse's legs roaming about the mountain?"
Here was the avatar of an enormous wolf who lived in wheat talking about the stories of the devil told by the Church. All the nonhumans that Lawrence knew of were embodiments of far more commonplace animals.
"I don't think so. But they say they still appear in the mountain."
"What do you mean?"
Lawrence recalled watching the mouth of the innkeeper by the light of the candle, despite how Holo had ended up passing out drunk beside him.
The words that came out of the slim gap between the man's scruffy mustache and beard were thus:
"There is something that stubbornly bars anyone from entering the mountain. The technique for refining metal without heat still slumbers there to this day. Any who acquired knowledge of the technique would most certainly be able to secure immense wealth, so many in the past have attempted to investigate..."
"But they all fail to return?"
"Not only that, but you can apparently hear the clang, clang of tools on stone and ghosts appearing night after night to work a mine that should have been long since dried up."
It was a common tale, but Lawrence knew things that others did not.
For example, there was a massive wolf who occasionally wandered the steamy baths of the Nyohhira hot springs.
It was possible for things that went beyond human comprehension to exist.
"Ghosts aside, if I were to say there are reports of something on the mountain, you'd understand what I mean, right?"
Holo's ears and nose were those of a wolf. If she put her mind to it, she could locate whatever this mystery being was in an instant, even on the biggest of mountains.


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

Input:
Holo had not lived hundreds of years for show, and she had visited many towns on her travels with Lawrence. She was naturally intelligent, and she rarely forgot—unless it was convenient for her—anything she saw or heard. Before she considered the possibility of magic, she proposed another explanation.
"Was it not that smelly peat?"
"Peat can burn, but its flame really isn't strong enough. And it isn't like they harvested coal from the area. It wasn't bitumen, either."
Bitumen was a black liquid known as flammable water. It was expensive, and Lawrence more often saw it used to preserve the integrity of ships and structures rather than as a fuel.
"The alchemists apparently created magic for purifying metal without fire, then used it on the meager amounts of ore that was produced by the mines and saved those who had been left behind from a dismal fate. If they could refine metal without using firewood, then they'd make so much money it would keep a smile on their faces for the rest of their lives, you see. Not only that, but creating fire out of nothing meant that it would help bring back the foliage to the bald mountain."
"Mm." Holo displayed great interest in that last sentence and asked, "And did life return to the mountain?"
"It did."
"Oh ho."
This sight was what most would call a blooming smile. Lawrence found himself happy to see her beaming like that, but Holo herself understood that this was not all there was to the story.
"Still, if they simply lived happily ever after, you would not have said you might need my power, no?"
"Indeed. And they wouldn't call it a cursed mountain, either."
Holo brought her shapely eyebrows together, creating deep wrinkles between them. Her gaze swam, possibly because she could not find the single thread that tied the whole story together.
"Has someone like little Col deemed fireless refinement as sorcery?"
Shocking people's common sense ran the risk of being accused of doing the devil's work and committing blasphemy.
"I considered that, too, and the bishop from Atiph who asked me to take this on seemed to have the same idea. That the ones who visited the mountain weren't alchemists but fallen angels who were there to lead people astray."
"Then is that to say there is a creature with wings, a goat's head, and a horse's legs roaming about the mountain?"
Here was the avatar of an enormous wolf who lived in wheat talking about the stories of the devil told by the Church. All the nonhumans that Lawrence knew of were embodiments of far more commonplace animals.
"I don't think so. But they say they still appear in the mountain."
"What do you mean?"
Lawrence recalled watching the mouth of the innkeeper by the light of the candle, despite how Holo had ended up passing out drunk beside him.
The words that came out of the slim gap between the man's scruffy mustache and beard were thus:
"There is something that stubbornly bars anyone from entering the mountain. The technique for refining metal without heat still slumbers there to this day. Any who acquired knowledge of the technique would most certainly be able to secure immense wealth, so many in the past have attempted to investigate..."
"But they all fail to return?"
"Not only that, but you can apparently hear the clang, clang of tools on stone and ghosts appearing night after night to work a mine that should have been long since dried up."
It was a common tale, but Lawrence knew things that others did not.
For example, there was a massive wolf who occasionally wandered the steamy baths of the Nyohhira hot springs.
It was possible for things that went beyond human comprehension to exist.
"Ghosts aside, if I were to say there are reports of something on the mountain, you'd understand what I mean, right?"
Holo's ears and nose were those of a wolf. If she put her mind to it, she could locate whatever this mystery being was in an instant, even on the biggest of mountains.

Output:
Her eyes were uneasy. She can't possibly be afraid of ghosts, can she? Lawrence thought, but then immediately found himself annoyed with his own cluelessness. Whatever lived in that mountain surely lived in the same world as Holo. In that case, there was no doubt that whatever it was had their own reasons for being there.
For example, perhaps out of thanks to the alchemists who brought the forest back to life, they continued to heroically protect what they had left behind to this day.
It was hard to imagine from her typical behavior, but Holo was generally compassionate and easily hurt.
She was likely reluctant to strip off a scab of history that remained on the mountain.
"I know how uneasy you must feel, but what the bishop from the Vallan Bishopric wants is concrete information to help him decide what to do next. It's a good sign that he's looking for a merchant. It means he wants to base his decision on loss and profit."
Holo stared hard at Lawrence before slowly closing her eyes.
"Does that mean your eloquence will work well here?"
"Well, I guess that depends on how much the bishop trusts me."
Holo inhaled deeply, then grumpily sighed.
"Will we be able to tidy this up before the grand market on the other side of the mountain is over?"
"That very much depends on what's on the mountain."
He briefly heard a wolf's growl coming deep from Holo's throat, but she knew full well that was all he could say at this point.
Not long later, she huffed, lay her cheek on her raised knees, and hunched over like a pouting girl.
"I suppose this will not end happily."
Holo tended to be negative whenever her thoughts turned to the future—either because she had spent such a long time alone in a wheat field before meeting Lawrence or because it was a fundamental part of her personality.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Lawrence was a merchant who never learned his lesson and always forged ahead, brimming with confidence that he would strike gold next time.
"Even so, just by us going there, we might be able to help whatever or whoever it is residing in that mountain. Try and imagine what would happen if someone besides us went."
The bishop searching for a merchant absolutely meant that completely washing his hands of the property was an option. Who he might sell it to and how he would sell it off were important questions for the future of the land.
"Plus, if it's another nonhuman you get along with, we could always have them work at the bathhouse."
***
Holo turned to Lawrence with a weary look in her eyes because she knew that he spoke the truth.
"You are always an optimistic fool."
"I wouldn't have taken your hand and come this far if I weren't."
Holo stared at him with quiet, red eyes, then grinned in surrender.
"You fool."
Lawrence shrugged, adjusted his grip on the reins, and drove the horses.
Even though they had come down from deep within the mountains to the sea, they were once again climbing the mountains, though a different land meant these were not the mountains they called home.
They were used to the steep cliffs, deep forests, and the gorges carved out by creeks that made everything more complicated in the ranges of Nyohhira. What spread out before them was more like gentle hills that went on forever.
"Tall grasses that are host to small groves of trees in patches here and there are signs of terrible scars on the land. This is what happens when the forest is cut down without care."
The maiden grass, rustling and swaying in the wind, almost looked like a field of wheat at a glance, which was terribly sad. On his past journeys as a peddler, Lawrence had often seen similar sights in places that had been seared by the fires of war.
The road itself was wide and beaten down, and if he had to choose, he would place it among the finer roads he had ever traveled, but it was deserted besides their cart. This route had likely been established when the rock salt and metal production were thriving, a remnant of a bygone era.


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

Input:
Her eyes were uneasy. She can't possibly be afraid of ghosts, can she? Lawrence thought, but then immediately found himself annoyed with his own cluelessness. Whatever lived in that mountain surely lived in the same world as Holo. In that case, there was no doubt that whatever it was had their own reasons for being there.
For example, perhaps out of thanks to the alchemists who brought the forest back to life, they continued to heroically protect what they had left behind to this day.
It was hard to imagine from her typical behavior, but Holo was generally compassionate and easily hurt.
She was likely reluctant to strip off a scab of history that remained on the mountain.
"I know how uneasy you must feel, but what the bishop from the Vallan Bishopric wants is concrete information to help him decide what to do next. It's a good sign that he's looking for a merchant. It means he wants to base his decision on loss and profit."
Holo stared hard at Lawrence before slowly closing her eyes.
"Does that mean your eloquence will work well here?"
"Well, I guess that depends on how much the bishop trusts me."
Holo inhaled deeply, then grumpily sighed.
"Will we be able to tidy this up before the grand market on the other side of the mountain is over?"
"That very much depends on what's on the mountain."
He briefly heard a wolf's growl coming deep from Holo's throat, but she knew full well that was all he could say at this point.
Not long later, she huffed, lay her cheek on her raised knees, and hunched over like a pouting girl.
"I suppose this will not end happily."
Holo tended to be negative whenever her thoughts turned to the future—either because she had spent such a long time alone in a wheat field before meeting Lawrence or because it was a fundamental part of her personality.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Lawrence was a merchant who never learned his lesson and always forged ahead, brimming with confidence that he would strike gold next time.
"Even so, just by us going there, we might be able to help whatever or whoever it is residing in that mountain. Try and imagine what would happen if someone besides us went."
The bishop searching for a merchant absolutely meant that completely washing his hands of the property was an option. Who he might sell it to and how he would sell it off were important questions for the future of the land.
"Plus, if it's another nonhuman you get along with, we could always have them work at the bathhouse."
***
Holo turned to Lawrence with a weary look in her eyes because she knew that he spoke the truth.
"You are always an optimistic fool."
"I wouldn't have taken your hand and come this far if I weren't."
Holo stared at him with quiet, red eyes, then grinned in surrender.
"You fool."
Lawrence shrugged, adjusted his grip on the reins, and drove the horses.
Even though they had come down from deep within the mountains to the sea, they were once again climbing the mountains, though a different land meant these were not the mountains they called home.
They were used to the steep cliffs, deep forests, and the gorges carved out by creeks that made everything more complicated in the ranges of Nyohhira. What spread out before them was more like gentle hills that went on forever.
"Tall grasses that are host to small groves of trees in patches here and there are signs of terrible scars on the land. This is what happens when the forest is cut down without care."
The maiden grass, rustling and swaying in the wind, almost looked like a field of wheat at a glance, which was terribly sad. On his past journeys as a peddler, Lawrence had often seen similar sights in places that had been seared by the fires of war.
The road itself was wide and beaten down, and if he had to choose, he would place it among the finer roads he had ever traveled, but it was deserted besides their cart. This route had likely been established when the rock salt and metal production were thriving, a remnant of a bygone era.

Output:
"Almost makes me think we should slash and burn the whole place down, then turn it all into farm fields."
"I see no rivers. Since the mountain, the source of the water, has been so ruined in the past, I doubt one would find much even after digging new wells."
They were starting the sixth day on their cart journey, and even though they were just running out of things to talk about, their silence was not due to exhaustion.
Holo sat on the driver's perch, staring straight ahead, and Lawrence gently placed his hand on her head. Though she would typically shoo him away like a nuisance, she quietly drew up her shoulder to lean against him. Places whose heyday had passed imparted a particular feeling of loneliness, which made them an even more depressing sight to Holo, who always felt left behind by the inexorable flow of time.
Eventually, they spotted a mound beyond the sea of maiden grass that looked like a proper mountain. It was hard to make out in the distance since there was still a way to go, but just as they had heard from the stories, it did not look barren now.
Buildings finally started to appear here and there along the sides of the road, and though they were modest, there were some wells, and here the fields of grass had been turned into farm fields. They started to see some herds of sheep, and as they sensed other signs of life, the air around them finally grew brighter.
What they came to was a village with rows of simple houses that did not seem all that well-off, and standing staunchly in the middle was a massive stone building that towered above them, surrounded by a defensive wall.
It was the Vallan Cathedral, the place where the Vallan Bishopric found its beginnings.
The iron gates were dignified and tall, suited for a place that once controlled a mine, only they were now left open to rust. It was likely that no one was maintaining the gates, and they could not keep opening and closing the portal at will. The cathedral grounds inside the walls were also quiet, so pigs and several goats were lazily eating the grass. The stone water channel, where guests must have once washed their feet and led their horses to drink, had long since dried out; tufts of grass grew there now.
Lawrence tied his horse to the place he thought seemed the most stable, took the letter from Atiph's bishop in hand, then headed toward the church with Holo.
"'Tis a big building."
When they stood in the entrance to the church, Holo looked up and spoke in astonishment. The annexed bell tower was also high up—they had to crane their necks as far back as they could in order to peer all the way up, bringing to mind the energy and power of a bygone era.
"But still, it doesn't seem like there's anyone around."
"Mm. Yet, it smells lived in. And there is soil from hands on that side door there."
The reason the large entrance to the sanctuary remained closed was likely the same reason the gates to the grounds remained open. The side entrance was not locked, so they opened the door and let themselves inside.
"Oh ho."
"This is amazing..."
The interior was undeniably stately, and it was obvious that considerable money had been invested into the construction; the colonnade and ceiling were connected with a web of curved lines and embellished with delicate ornaments.
Rows of glass-inset cabinets lined the walls, filled with statues of the Holy Mother and other decorations. The long chains hanging from the high ceilings were likely for lit incense during times of worship. When Holo approached to give the incense holders a sniff, she sneezed.
"It's been cleaned."
"Those are wax candles in the candleholders along the walls and pillars. 'Tis quite grand."
It was all being properly cared for, but there were still no signs of life. Lawrence and Holo walked hand in hand, the echoes of their footsteps uncomfortably loud inside the sanctuary.


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

Input:
"Almost makes me think we should slash and burn the whole place down, then turn it all into farm fields."
"I see no rivers. Since the mountain, the source of the water, has been so ruined in the past, I doubt one would find much even after digging new wells."
They were starting the sixth day on their cart journey, and even though they were just running out of things to talk about, their silence was not due to exhaustion.
Holo sat on the driver's perch, staring straight ahead, and Lawrence gently placed his hand on her head. Though she would typically shoo him away like a nuisance, she quietly drew up her shoulder to lean against him. Places whose heyday had passed imparted a particular feeling of loneliness, which made them an even more depressing sight to Holo, who always felt left behind by the inexorable flow of time.
Eventually, they spotted a mound beyond the sea of maiden grass that looked like a proper mountain. It was hard to make out in the distance since there was still a way to go, but just as they had heard from the stories, it did not look barren now.
Buildings finally started to appear here and there along the sides of the road, and though they were modest, there were some wells, and here the fields of grass had been turned into farm fields. They started to see some herds of sheep, and as they sensed other signs of life, the air around them finally grew brighter.
What they came to was a village with rows of simple houses that did not seem all that well-off, and standing staunchly in the middle was a massive stone building that towered above them, surrounded by a defensive wall.
It was the Vallan Cathedral, the place where the Vallan Bishopric found its beginnings.
The iron gates were dignified and tall, suited for a place that once controlled a mine, only they were now left open to rust. It was likely that no one was maintaining the gates, and they could not keep opening and closing the portal at will. The cathedral grounds inside the walls were also quiet, so pigs and several goats were lazily eating the grass. The stone water channel, where guests must have once washed their feet and led their horses to drink, had long since dried out; tufts of grass grew there now.
Lawrence tied his horse to the place he thought seemed the most stable, took the letter from Atiph's bishop in hand, then headed toward the church with Holo.
"'Tis a big building."
When they stood in the entrance to the church, Holo looked up and spoke in astonishment. The annexed bell tower was also high up—they had to crane their necks as far back as they could in order to peer all the way up, bringing to mind the energy and power of a bygone era.
"But still, it doesn't seem like there's anyone around."
"Mm. Yet, it smells lived in. And there is soil from hands on that side door there."
The reason the large entrance to the sanctuary remained closed was likely the same reason the gates to the grounds remained open. The side entrance was not locked, so they opened the door and let themselves inside.
"Oh ho."
"This is amazing..."
The interior was undeniably stately, and it was obvious that considerable money had been invested into the construction; the colonnade and ceiling were connected with a web of curved lines and embellished with delicate ornaments.
Rows of glass-inset cabinets lined the walls, filled with statues of the Holy Mother and other decorations. The long chains hanging from the high ceilings were likely for lit incense during times of worship. When Holo approached to give the incense holders a sniff, she sneezed.
"It's been cleaned."
"Those are wax candles in the candleholders along the walls and pillars. 'Tis quite grand."
It was all being properly cared for, but there were still no signs of life. Lawrence and Holo walked hand in hand, the echoes of their footsteps uncomfortably loud inside the sanctuary.

Output:
They stood at a crossway. Here, the floor was made of different-colored stones in the pattern of the Church's symbol.
"Dear." Holo pointed to a spot high up on the wall that reached the ceiling.
"...This..."
Lawrence unconsciously covered his mouth when he laid eyes on the large mural. It was not a painting of something from reality, which was currently in vogue among nobles. Depicted in an extremely simplified and exaggerated style, the people in the scene all held up hands bigger than their heads in awkward positions that made them look like puppets, their expressionless faces directed toward heaven and eyes focused on nothing in particular. Such lack of sophistication gave it an indescribable power, and he could tell at a glance what it was representing.
It was the legend surrounding the Vallan Cathedral.
The one carrying a plow was probably Vallan, the founding farmer, and the hand reaching down from between the clouds was likely God's divine will. Vallan was thriving in the following scene, which depicted the establishment of the church town, and Lawrence could see God's good graces overflowing from the land and the people thanking God for the development of their new home.
However, the town in the mural suddenly went into decline; the people were reaching for the heavens, perhaps praying for intervention, and the angel that came down to them was playing a flute.
"The angel has been painted with horns."
"Its horns are the only colorful thing here. That detail must've been added later. The people of later generations must've decided it was a fallen angel."
The group of hooded figures, their faces obscured and hoods pulled far down over their eyes, making them almost look like pagan sorcerers, must have been the alchemists. But what came after that was odd. That sense of wrongness he had felt when collecting stories about this at the inn had been put straight into images.
The alchemists prayed at the top of the mountain, and God's bearded face appeared at the peak, shining light filtering through the clouds from the summit all the way down to the town below in time with the angel's wild dance.
"I've seen paintings in areas with long-lasting rains where the people pray for clear weather, and this looks similar."
"...Are the people in the village smiling?"
Holo narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her face because her eyesight was not that great; she could not make out the small details of the crowd.
"No, they're expressionless. The way they're raising their hands makes it seem like they're either happy or begging for dear life."
"Hmph, it makes no difference," she spat.
Holo had stayed in the fields of a single town for centuries to honor a very old promise. She said she occasionally had to make the wheat harvest poor in order to give them as abundant of a crop as possible in the long run. On the other hand, the villagers wished for a good yield every year and often took the varying success of the harvest as Holo's capricious whim.
Lawrence reached out to rest his hand on Holo's back. Holo inhaled deeply, then forcefully breathed through her nose.
"God is shining the light on those men with large metalsmithing hammers, and they're hitting that burning clump. Must be metal. There's horses ferrying all sorts of cargo on their backs, and those merchant-looking men are raising their hands because...it must be an expression of happiness."
"Next to that, the forest has returned to the mountain."
"Yeah, but—"
Lawrence cut himself off because at the foot of the mountain, now reinvigorated with forest, the people were kneeling in prayer, clearly lamenting over something.
The expressionless, bearded face of God still sat at the peak of the mountain, while the fallen angel with those ill-shaped wings sticking out of its back stood beside him, a look in its eyes that made it hard to tell what exactly it was looking at, which was a unique characteristic for this style of painting.


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

Input:
They stood at a crossway. Here, the floor was made of different-colored stones in the pattern of the Church's symbol.
"Dear." Holo pointed to a spot high up on the wall that reached the ceiling.
"...This..."
Lawrence unconsciously covered his mouth when he laid eyes on the large mural. It was not a painting of something from reality, which was currently in vogue among nobles. Depicted in an extremely simplified and exaggerated style, the people in the scene all held up hands bigger than their heads in awkward positions that made them look like puppets, their expressionless faces directed toward heaven and eyes focused on nothing in particular. Such lack of sophistication gave it an indescribable power, and he could tell at a glance what it was representing.
It was the legend surrounding the Vallan Cathedral.
The one carrying a plow was probably Vallan, the founding farmer, and the hand reaching down from between the clouds was likely God's divine will. Vallan was thriving in the following scene, which depicted the establishment of the church town, and Lawrence could see God's good graces overflowing from the land and the people thanking God for the development of their new home.
However, the town in the mural suddenly went into decline; the people were reaching for the heavens, perhaps praying for intervention, and the angel that came down to them was playing a flute.
"The angel has been painted with horns."
"Its horns are the only colorful thing here. That detail must've been added later. The people of later generations must've decided it was a fallen angel."
The group of hooded figures, their faces obscured and hoods pulled far down over their eyes, making them almost look like pagan sorcerers, must have been the alchemists. But what came after that was odd. That sense of wrongness he had felt when collecting stories about this at the inn had been put straight into images.
The alchemists prayed at the top of the mountain, and God's bearded face appeared at the peak, shining light filtering through the clouds from the summit all the way down to the town below in time with the angel's wild dance.
"I've seen paintings in areas with long-lasting rains where the people pray for clear weather, and this looks similar."
"...Are the people in the village smiling?"
Holo narrowed her eyes and scrunched up her face because her eyesight was not that great; she could not make out the small details of the crowd.
"No, they're expressionless. The way they're raising their hands makes it seem like they're either happy or begging for dear life."
"Hmph, it makes no difference," she spat.
Holo had stayed in the fields of a single town for centuries to honor a very old promise. She said she occasionally had to make the wheat harvest poor in order to give them as abundant of a crop as possible in the long run. On the other hand, the villagers wished for a good yield every year and often took the varying success of the harvest as Holo's capricious whim.
Lawrence reached out to rest his hand on Holo's back. Holo inhaled deeply, then forcefully breathed through her nose.
"God is shining the light on those men with large metalsmithing hammers, and they're hitting that burning clump. Must be metal. There's horses ferrying all sorts of cargo on their backs, and those merchant-looking men are raising their hands because...it must be an expression of happiness."
"Next to that, the forest has returned to the mountain."
"Yeah, but—"
Lawrence cut himself off because at the foot of the mountain, now reinvigorated with forest, the people were kneeling in prayer, clearly lamenting over something.
The expressionless, bearded face of God still sat at the peak of the mountain, while the fallen angel with those ill-shaped wings sticking out of its back stood beside him, a look in its eyes that made it hard to tell what exactly it was looking at, which was a unique characteristic for this style of painting.

Output:
The end of the painted chronicle that continued down the hall came with the words O Merciful God.
"What's with the bearded face?"
Despite how ridiculous it was, the face occupied a prominent place in the picture ever since the opening scene, making it even more eerie than it already was.
"Perhaps it means there is a weird one like that here."
"Why is it just his face?"
Everyone else, even the smallest figures, had proper bodies.
He wondered if there was a reason that it was only his face.
"Hmm...If it were nonhuman, then..." Holo mulled over her thoughts, then lifted her face in realization. "Oh, we ate it in the last town. Would that not be it?"
"Huh?"
They had eaten plenty of specialty seafood in Atiph, along with the staples like mutton, pork, and chicken.
However, as Lawrence thought about how it looked like none of those, Holo asked, "Is it not a crab?"
"Crab?!"
Lawrence's eyes widened, turning away from Holo's proud look back to the picture. Sure, if a face appeared in a crab shell, it might look something like that. It was also possible to see the tousled wisps of beard that extended to either side as caricatures of a crab's legs, which could explain why there was no body.
In fact, he could imagine a crab snatching people who trespassed in the mountain with those claws and biting into them with a blank, impassive face.
Lawrence shivered at how unearthly the thought was, then shook his head.
"No, no..."
He told himself to be rational about this.
What did an avatar of a crab at the mountain peak have to do with refining metal?
Furthermore, he still had no idea why it shone light from the summit.
Suddenly, they heard a voice come from above them.
"That is an interesting theory."
It was so sudden that Lawrence jumped in spite of himself, looking hurriedly up at the ceiling but finding no one there.
Even Holo with her wolf ears did not seem to know where the voice came from as she peered up at the rafters in bewilderment, her eyes darting back and forth.
Yet, even if one fooled her ears, it seemed one could not fool her wolf's nose.
"Behind the far pillar."
Holo tugged on his sleeve and whirled around. She pointed to the pillar at the far end of the hallway.
Lawrence placed his hand on his dagger, then immediately remembered that this was a cathedral.
A normal train of thought would suggest the speaker was a member of the church. His mind had gotten all jumbled after their conversation about creepy crabs. Lawrence took a deep breath to steady himself, then spoke.
"We are travelers! We received orders from the bishop in Atiph and came here!"
His voice echoed around the high-ceilinged stone structure; it almost sounded like a choir singing a canon.
"We have a letter of introduction from the bishop in Atiph. We were hoping to have an audience with the bishop here."
Lawrence's voice echoed around them a few more times before disappearing at the end of the hallway. The voice must have sounded like it was coming from above them because of the strange acoustics.
Whoever it was behind the pillar did not answer.
Or perhaps it was someone they needed to deal with using Holo's power?
They were in a cathedral with eerie pictures on the walls—a place where past prosperity still lived.
He thought that it could be entirely possible there was something roaming here that was beyond human comprehension.
"It seems like this is truly a coincidence."
They heard the calm voice of a woman. What surprised him was not that it sounded like it was coming from right next to them or that it seemed a mix of annoyed and delighted.
Lawrence clearly remembered this voice.
"Dear." Holo turned around to look at Lawrence, a sullen look on her face. "I have a bad feeling about this."
Right after she made that comment, their greeter casually revealed themselves from behind the pillar.
The movement almost seemed like a delicate dance because whomever it was had impeccable posture.


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

Input:
The end of the painted chronicle that continued down the hall came with the words O Merciful God.
"What's with the bearded face?"
Despite how ridiculous it was, the face occupied a prominent place in the picture ever since the opening scene, making it even more eerie than it already was.
"Perhaps it means there is a weird one like that here."
"Why is it just his face?"
Everyone else, even the smallest figures, had proper bodies.
He wondered if there was a reason that it was only his face.
"Hmm...If it were nonhuman, then..." Holo mulled over her thoughts, then lifted her face in realization. "Oh, we ate it in the last town. Would that not be it?"
"Huh?"
They had eaten plenty of specialty seafood in Atiph, along with the staples like mutton, pork, and chicken.
However, as Lawrence thought about how it looked like none of those, Holo asked, "Is it not a crab?"
"Crab?!"
Lawrence's eyes widened, turning away from Holo's proud look back to the picture. Sure, if a face appeared in a crab shell, it might look something like that. It was also possible to see the tousled wisps of beard that extended to either side as caricatures of a crab's legs, which could explain why there was no body.
In fact, he could imagine a crab snatching people who trespassed in the mountain with those claws and biting into them with a blank, impassive face.
Lawrence shivered at how unearthly the thought was, then shook his head.
"No, no..."
He told himself to be rational about this.
What did an avatar of a crab at the mountain peak have to do with refining metal?
Furthermore, he still had no idea why it shone light from the summit.
Suddenly, they heard a voice come from above them.
"That is an interesting theory."
It was so sudden that Lawrence jumped in spite of himself, looking hurriedly up at the ceiling but finding no one there.
Even Holo with her wolf ears did not seem to know where the voice came from as she peered up at the rafters in bewilderment, her eyes darting back and forth.
Yet, even if one fooled her ears, it seemed one could not fool her wolf's nose.
"Behind the far pillar."
Holo tugged on his sleeve and whirled around. She pointed to the pillar at the far end of the hallway.
Lawrence placed his hand on his dagger, then immediately remembered that this was a cathedral.
A normal train of thought would suggest the speaker was a member of the church. His mind had gotten all jumbled after their conversation about creepy crabs. Lawrence took a deep breath to steady himself, then spoke.
"We are travelers! We received orders from the bishop in Atiph and came here!"
His voice echoed around the high-ceilinged stone structure; it almost sounded like a choir singing a canon.
"We have a letter of introduction from the bishop in Atiph. We were hoping to have an audience with the bishop here."
Lawrence's voice echoed around them a few more times before disappearing at the end of the hallway. The voice must have sounded like it was coming from above them because of the strange acoustics.
Whoever it was behind the pillar did not answer.
Or perhaps it was someone they needed to deal with using Holo's power?
They were in a cathedral with eerie pictures on the walls—a place where past prosperity still lived.
He thought that it could be entirely possible there was something roaming here that was beyond human comprehension.
"It seems like this is truly a coincidence."
They heard the calm voice of a woman. What surprised him was not that it sounded like it was coming from right next to them or that it seemed a mix of annoyed and delighted.
Lawrence clearly remembered this voice.
"Dear." Holo turned around to look at Lawrence, a sullen look on her face. "I have a bad feeling about this."
Right after she made that comment, their greeter casually revealed themselves from behind the pillar.
The movement almost seemed like a delicate dance because whomever it was had impeccable posture.

Output:
"We can simply never comprehend the whims of God."
Walking their way was a lone woman. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, her eyes were the color of honey, and though she seemed rather slender, her back was stretched powerfully straight, full of dignity in the way she carried herself. He could tell from the color dyed into the collar of her clerical robes that she occupied the position of a priest. She was the spitting image of what most people saw when they pictured the clergy.
"It has been quite a while, Mr. Lawrence," the woman said with a smile, and her gaze turned to the person beside him. "And for better or worse, you seem the same as always. You reek of alcohol."
"Fool," Holo retorted, folding her arms in front of her chest and turning away in a huff.
A wry smile started to cross Lawrence's face as he thought, These two never got along..., but he quickly corrected himself.
It was Holo alone who found their interactions unbearable.
After all, Col had described this woman as a believer of stringent faith and the one who temporarily acted as his teacher so that he might master theology. Holo, on the other hand, would drink all the alcohol in the world if she could and always picked the bits of meat that dripped with grease, so it was only natural they had poor compatibility.
"I never thought we would see you in a place like this," Lawrence responded and said her name. "It's been a long time, Miss Elsa."
"All is as God wills it."
Elsa, who they met long ago on their merchant travels and who had guided them at an important crossroads, smiled and nodded.
Lawrence and Elsa approached each other and exchanged a handshake and a brief hug.
Just after Lawrence and Holo met over ten years ago, back when Holo had forgotten the way back to Yoitsu, they met Elsa while pursuing research on her homeland. She was also very important to them as the person who presided over their ceremony when he and Holo got married.
"I received your letter, which had indeed read, 'See you again soon,' but I hadn't thought you would appear quite this quickly."
"It seems the horse got the letter to you safe and sound."
One of the many nonhumans who had come to the bathhouse in Nyohhira was someone who delivered letters to faraway lands for a living. The person in question was the embodiment of a horse, which was most suitable for the role.
"At any rate, is it true that you've just had a baby, Miss Elsa?"
"That was two years ago; my third one. The older kids are taking care of the baby for me. My biggest and eldest child needs to start living life without me having to scold him all the time."
Elsa's husband was a good-natured young man named Evan who was her complete opposite—a bighearted man who did not dither over the details. He is clearly the henpecked type, Lawrence thought and considered himself much the same.
Right as Lawrence and Elsa were renewing their friendship, Holo interjected, annoyed.
"More importantly, we are rather tired from our long journey. I believe it is one of your Church's principles to care for travelers, no?"
Elsa stared blankly at Holo before responding to her caustic remark with a gleeful smile. It was almost as though she had grown used to the whining of children.
"Indeed. We just so happen to be all out of visitors or helpers at the moment, so we have plenty of rooms open."
"I wish to wash the dust away with hot water. Will there be a hot bath waiting for me?"
Holo had grown so used to life in Nyohhira with the hot springs. Back in Atiph, she had often cried about wanting to fill a tub full of hot water to submerge herself completely.
"Yes, of course."
"What?!"
Holo's eyes sparkled, and Elsa continued with a clear expression.
"If you draw the water, split the firewood, and start the fire yourself, that is."
***
Elsa, with her honey-colored eyes and straight posture, said, "We brook no idleness here. A day filled with hard work is a good day."


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

Input:
"We can simply never comprehend the whims of God."
Walking their way was a lone woman. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, her eyes were the color of honey, and though she seemed rather slender, her back was stretched powerfully straight, full of dignity in the way she carried herself. He could tell from the color dyed into the collar of her clerical robes that she occupied the position of a priest. She was the spitting image of what most people saw when they pictured the clergy.
"It has been quite a while, Mr. Lawrence," the woman said with a smile, and her gaze turned to the person beside him. "And for better or worse, you seem the same as always. You reek of alcohol."
"Fool," Holo retorted, folding her arms in front of her chest and turning away in a huff.
A wry smile started to cross Lawrence's face as he thought, These two never got along..., but he quickly corrected himself.
It was Holo alone who found their interactions unbearable.
After all, Col had described this woman as a believer of stringent faith and the one who temporarily acted as his teacher so that he might master theology. Holo, on the other hand, would drink all the alcohol in the world if she could and always picked the bits of meat that dripped with grease, so it was only natural they had poor compatibility.
"I never thought we would see you in a place like this," Lawrence responded and said her name. "It's been a long time, Miss Elsa."
"All is as God wills it."
Elsa, who they met long ago on their merchant travels and who had guided them at an important crossroads, smiled and nodded.
Lawrence and Elsa approached each other and exchanged a handshake and a brief hug.
Just after Lawrence and Holo met over ten years ago, back when Holo had forgotten the way back to Yoitsu, they met Elsa while pursuing research on her homeland. She was also very important to them as the person who presided over their ceremony when he and Holo got married.
"I received your letter, which had indeed read, 'See you again soon,' but I hadn't thought you would appear quite this quickly."
"It seems the horse got the letter to you safe and sound."
One of the many nonhumans who had come to the bathhouse in Nyohhira was someone who delivered letters to faraway lands for a living. The person in question was the embodiment of a horse, which was most suitable for the role.
"At any rate, is it true that you've just had a baby, Miss Elsa?"
"That was two years ago; my third one. The older kids are taking care of the baby for me. My biggest and eldest child needs to start living life without me having to scold him all the time."
Elsa's husband was a good-natured young man named Evan who was her complete opposite—a bighearted man who did not dither over the details. He is clearly the henpecked type, Lawrence thought and considered himself much the same.
Right as Lawrence and Elsa were renewing their friendship, Holo interjected, annoyed.
"More importantly, we are rather tired from our long journey. I believe it is one of your Church's principles to care for travelers, no?"
Elsa stared blankly at Holo before responding to her caustic remark with a gleeful smile. It was almost as though she had grown used to the whining of children.
"Indeed. We just so happen to be all out of visitors or helpers at the moment, so we have plenty of rooms open."
"I wish to wash the dust away with hot water. Will there be a hot bath waiting for me?"
Holo had grown so used to life in Nyohhira with the hot springs. Back in Atiph, she had often cried about wanting to fill a tub full of hot water to submerge herself completely.
"Yes, of course."
"What?!"
Holo's eyes sparkled, and Elsa continued with a clear expression.
"If you draw the water, split the firewood, and start the fire yourself, that is."
***
Elsa, with her honey-colored eyes and straight posture, said, "We brook no idleness here. A day filled with hard work is a good day."

Output:
In those days, Elsa had often scolded Holo, whose manners were no better or worse than her own daughter, Myuri.
"Mr. Lawrence, did you put your horse out front?"
"Yes."
"Once you've unpacked, I'll provide you with water to wash your feet and a meal. There's no need to worry. It won't be roasted beans and grass from the yard."
She added that last bit while shooting Holo a mischievous look.
When Holo looked away in a huff, Lawrence felt like he might forget which one was supposed to be the wisewolf who would live for many centuries.
Larger Church institutions had plenty of courtesy calls from nobles and traveling clergy, so they always had lodging facilities. Lawrence and Holo borrowed one of those rooms, unpacked their things, then went outside.
Elsa was by the vegetable garden that sat within the church grounds, her sleeves rolled up as she drew water from the well.
"You will feel refreshed once you wash your feet."
There were several stories of saints who washed the feet of the poor, but of course Holo was not the type to feel any gratitude for this.
Holo stood there with an obvious glower, and Elsa turned to look at Lawrence.
"I am happy to see you two so close, but are you perhaps spoiling your partner a little too much?"
Elsa scolded him, and he had no choice but to offer a humble apology.
"See, Holo—cold water feels good, too."
Lawrence washed his hands in the tub filled to the brim with water. With a grumpy look, Holo sat down nearby on a massive rock and stuck her feet out at Lawrence.
With Elsa's exasperated sigh stinging his ears, Lawrence removed the princess's shoes, rolled up the edges of the trousers she wore under her robe, and began washing her feet. All her complaints notwithstanding, she seemed to enjoy it. Even though her expression remained grumpy, her tail swayed gently back and forth.
"Still, are you managing this place alone, Miss Elsa?"
Since Elsa made her way toward the woodpile, saying that she would need to get a fire going in order to start preparing their meal, Lawrence took on the duty of splitting firewood for her. Holo did not complain about anything in particular, perhaps because she was satisfied after Lawrence had washed her feet, and followed along without raising much fuss.
"You know about the grand market on the other side of the mountain, yes? All the people who normally maintain the church and the village are staying there until it's over. We need to sell the village's harvest as dearly as we can and purchase all the goods we need to get through winter as cheaply as possible, after all. Since I don't know the land well nor do I have many connections, I opted to stay behind."
Lawrence swung down the ax as he listened to Elsa talk. Holo, who seemed to enjoy the rhythmic crack of logs splitting, deftly collected the freshly cut timber and then quickly set up a new piece for him.
To Lawrence, she seemed just like a dog delighted to retrieve a stick he had thrown, but he of course kept that impression to himself.
"That being said, I am much more at ease when I'm alone. All my cleaning pays off here, you see."
He could not help but smile wryly at her precise language.
When all the wood was finally cut, Elsa guided them inside to the kitchen.
"But still, I am surprised that you left Nyohhira to visit a place like this. Why on earth?" Elsa asked as she took down some tinder and flint from a shelf in the kitchen.
"It would be a very long story, but...I want to ask you the same thing. Why are you here, Miss Elsa? You're rather far away from home."
"I had no intentions of coming here, either. Originally, I was asked by a neighboring church to help them because they didn't have enough people who could read, so I only came here on a temporary basis to read through the assets and permits that the church had accumulated. That was just before summer came this year."
As Elsa detailed her arrival, she struck the flint stones together, immediately causing a spark.


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

Input:
In those days, Elsa had often scolded Holo, whose manners were no better or worse than her own daughter, Myuri.
"Mr. Lawrence, did you put your horse out front?"
"Yes."
"Once you've unpacked, I'll provide you with water to wash your feet and a meal. There's no need to worry. It won't be roasted beans and grass from the yard."
She added that last bit while shooting Holo a mischievous look.
When Holo looked away in a huff, Lawrence felt like he might forget which one was supposed to be the wisewolf who would live for many centuries.
Larger Church institutions had plenty of courtesy calls from nobles and traveling clergy, so they always had lodging facilities. Lawrence and Holo borrowed one of those rooms, unpacked their things, then went outside.
Elsa was by the vegetable garden that sat within the church grounds, her sleeves rolled up as she drew water from the well.
"You will feel refreshed once you wash your feet."
There were several stories of saints who washed the feet of the poor, but of course Holo was not the type to feel any gratitude for this.
Holo stood there with an obvious glower, and Elsa turned to look at Lawrence.
"I am happy to see you two so close, but are you perhaps spoiling your partner a little too much?"
Elsa scolded him, and he had no choice but to offer a humble apology.
"See, Holo—cold water feels good, too."
Lawrence washed his hands in the tub filled to the brim with water. With a grumpy look, Holo sat down nearby on a massive rock and stuck her feet out at Lawrence.
With Elsa's exasperated sigh stinging his ears, Lawrence removed the princess's shoes, rolled up the edges of the trousers she wore under her robe, and began washing her feet. All her complaints notwithstanding, she seemed to enjoy it. Even though her expression remained grumpy, her tail swayed gently back and forth.
"Still, are you managing this place alone, Miss Elsa?"
Since Elsa made her way toward the woodpile, saying that she would need to get a fire going in order to start preparing their meal, Lawrence took on the duty of splitting firewood for her. Holo did not complain about anything in particular, perhaps because she was satisfied after Lawrence had washed her feet, and followed along without raising much fuss.
"You know about the grand market on the other side of the mountain, yes? All the people who normally maintain the church and the village are staying there until it's over. We need to sell the village's harvest as dearly as we can and purchase all the goods we need to get through winter as cheaply as possible, after all. Since I don't know the land well nor do I have many connections, I opted to stay behind."
Lawrence swung down the ax as he listened to Elsa talk. Holo, who seemed to enjoy the rhythmic crack of logs splitting, deftly collected the freshly cut timber and then quickly set up a new piece for him.
To Lawrence, she seemed just like a dog delighted to retrieve a stick he had thrown, but he of course kept that impression to himself.
"That being said, I am much more at ease when I'm alone. All my cleaning pays off here, you see."
He could not help but smile wryly at her precise language.
When all the wood was finally cut, Elsa guided them inside to the kitchen.
"But still, I am surprised that you left Nyohhira to visit a place like this. Why on earth?" Elsa asked as she took down some tinder and flint from a shelf in the kitchen.
"It would be a very long story, but...I want to ask you the same thing. Why are you here, Miss Elsa? You're rather far away from home."
"I had no intentions of coming here, either. Originally, I was asked by a neighboring church to help them because they didn't have enough people who could read, so I only came here on a temporary basis to read through the assets and permits that the church had accumulated. That was just before summer came this year."
As Elsa detailed her arrival, she struck the flint stones together, immediately causing a spark.

Output:
"And when I heard that Col was somehow involved with the Church hastily cleaning up its act, I wasn't sure if I should be surprised or suddenly understand exactly how this situation came to be."
Elsa selected a piece of firewood that looked like it would burn easily from among the wood Lawrence brought over and tossed it in the stove.
Lawrence was impressed with how even though it seemed like she had simply thrown it in without much care, the firewood had actually been thoughtfully stacked in a way to make it burn easier.
"That was our reason as well. Our only daughter, Myuri, ended up following Col on his journey, and we've had fewer letters as of late, so we left to check up on them."
Elsa turned her honey-colored eyes to Lawrence and Holo, then smiled dryly, hinting at something deeper.
She probably thought of them as overly doting parents.
Lawrence suddenly cleared his throat before continuing. "Ahem. So, Miss Elsa, you were helping out in various places until you found yourself here by request, is that right?"
"That is mostly correct, but that picture you were looking up at is the biggest reason. There is a significant reason as to why our paths crossed here."
That painting showed the history of the Vallan Bishopric's development and decline—alchemists who brought techniques that could be called nothing else but magic and the cursed mountain that was said to still be occupied by a being shrouded in mystery.
"When I heard that the bishopric was looking for help, I hesitated because it was so far away, but when I heard the story of how the Vallan Bishopric came to be, it immediately caught my interest. I wondered if I might perhaps add a new story to my father's collection of tales about the pagan gods."
The reason Lawrence and Holo first visited Elsa's village was for her father's prodigious collection of books.
"And the outcome?"
Elsa, placing an iron pot on the stove and pouring water into it from a jug, gracefully shrugged.
"You two ended up coming. Did you get the letter in Atiph?"
"...Does that mean you're representing the troubled bishop, Miss Elsa?"
After putting the jug away, Elsa pointed to her collar.
"I am a priest. The assistant in the assistant priest title is still very much a success for a woman in our organization. This is only temporary, however. It would be irresponsible for the Church to allow someone with a husband and children to become a full-fledged priest. They so lack help that someone like me had to be recruited for this."
Despite what Elsa said, she could read and had even journeyed once to find a clergyman to whom she could entrust their village's church. The insightful and earnest woman had always been well respected in her village; there was good reason they could rely on her.
"However, even if I went to the church in Atiph for help and gave a detailed explanation of the situation, they might be wary of me, would they not? They might interpret the arrival of a female priest from an outside village as an attempt to wrest away control. That is why in my letter asking for support, I wrote that I was only the temporary representative. I wasn't lying."
When Elsa, a woman who was prim, proper, and who respected the creed above all, smiled mischievously at the end of her explanation, Lawrence realized that she had grown stronger in the years since they had last met.
"What is that face supposed to mean? I've learned how to navigate the world a little, you know."
As she pressured him for a reply, she added generous amounts of salt and garlic to the pot. He caught a glimpse of how efficiently she must be running the house back in her home village.
"You don't mind stew, do you?"
"Are you putting in meat?" Holo asked, and Elsa shrugged.
"I am the one who invited you here, so I would not admonish you for eating meat."
"How considerate of you. What sort of meat is it?"
"You are a wolf, no? Did you see the grasses on your way here?"


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

Input:
"And when I heard that Col was somehow involved with the Church hastily cleaning up its act, I wasn't sure if I should be surprised or suddenly understand exactly how this situation came to be."
Elsa selected a piece of firewood that looked like it would burn easily from among the wood Lawrence brought over and tossed it in the stove.
Lawrence was impressed with how even though it seemed like she had simply thrown it in without much care, the firewood had actually been thoughtfully stacked in a way to make it burn easier.
"That was our reason as well. Our only daughter, Myuri, ended up following Col on his journey, and we've had fewer letters as of late, so we left to check up on them."
Elsa turned her honey-colored eyes to Lawrence and Holo, then smiled dryly, hinting at something deeper.
She probably thought of them as overly doting parents.
Lawrence suddenly cleared his throat before continuing. "Ahem. So, Miss Elsa, you were helping out in various places until you found yourself here by request, is that right?"
"That is mostly correct, but that picture you were looking up at is the biggest reason. There is a significant reason as to why our paths crossed here."
That painting showed the history of the Vallan Bishopric's development and decline—alchemists who brought techniques that could be called nothing else but magic and the cursed mountain that was said to still be occupied by a being shrouded in mystery.
"When I heard that the bishopric was looking for help, I hesitated because it was so far away, but when I heard the story of how the Vallan Bishopric came to be, it immediately caught my interest. I wondered if I might perhaps add a new story to my father's collection of tales about the pagan gods."
The reason Lawrence and Holo first visited Elsa's village was for her father's prodigious collection of books.
"And the outcome?"
Elsa, placing an iron pot on the stove and pouring water into it from a jug, gracefully shrugged.
"You two ended up coming. Did you get the letter in Atiph?"
"...Does that mean you're representing the troubled bishop, Miss Elsa?"
After putting the jug away, Elsa pointed to her collar.
"I am a priest. The assistant in the assistant priest title is still very much a success for a woman in our organization. This is only temporary, however. It would be irresponsible for the Church to allow someone with a husband and children to become a full-fledged priest. They so lack help that someone like me had to be recruited for this."
Despite what Elsa said, she could read and had even journeyed once to find a clergyman to whom she could entrust their village's church. The insightful and earnest woman had always been well respected in her village; there was good reason they could rely on her.
"However, even if I went to the church in Atiph for help and gave a detailed explanation of the situation, they might be wary of me, would they not? They might interpret the arrival of a female priest from an outside village as an attempt to wrest away control. That is why in my letter asking for support, I wrote that I was only the temporary representative. I wasn't lying."
When Elsa, a woman who was prim, proper, and who respected the creed above all, smiled mischievously at the end of her explanation, Lawrence realized that she had grown stronger in the years since they had last met.
"What is that face supposed to mean? I've learned how to navigate the world a little, you know."
As she pressured him for a reply, she added generous amounts of salt and garlic to the pot. He caught a glimpse of how efficiently she must be running the house back in her home village.
"You don't mind stew, do you?"
"Are you putting in meat?" Holo asked, and Elsa shrugged.
"I am the one who invited you here, so I would not admonish you for eating meat."
"How considerate of you. What sort of meat is it?"
"You are a wolf, no? Did you see the grasses on your way here?"

Output:
"Rabbit!"
"A rare specialty around these parts."
Holo's eyes glittered, her tail rustling back and forth.
Elsa smiled dryly at Holo's voraciousness.
"With everything you've told us so far, it seems even more surprising that you requested the aid of a merchant," Lawrence pointed out, while beside him Elsa requested the cheerful Holo to retrieve the rabbit meat from the villagers. Holo did not mind going through a bit of trouble for meat, and she exited the kitchen with light steps.
Despite how Holo would get hilariously jealous whenever her prey was left alone with another woman, she, of course, did not seem to question his relationship with Elsa.
"The land is referred to as the cursed mountain, and the nearby villagers dare not venture in even to collect firewood. Things would only become more complicated if I had summoned a member of the clergy. However, merchants wouldn't mind a curse or two if it meant making money, so I thought that one might boldly stride into the forest to investigate what's at the peak."
Elsa's words hinted at what she thought of merchants, but she was certainly not wrong.
"Which means you don't know what's in the mountain, either."
"No. What I was originally called here for was to manage this cathedral's assets and check their permits. I have my own veritable mountain of things to do. I also have work to do for my own village, so I want to return before winter settles in. I simply cannot go into the mountains myself. Even if I decide to set aside the time to gather information, everyone who works in this cathedral all pursued church law in outside towns and are not locals, and I'm a bit hesitant of what others may think if I decided to gather information from the locals."
A female priest who hailed from a faraway land gathering pagan stories that have been passed down in the region for ages would certainly invite unwanted suspicion. They might think she was a new kind of inquisitor or even a foreign spy plotting to take over.
"And the book vault didn't have any records that might prove useful. The stories you can gather at inns along the way are more detailed at this point. You saw the painting in the cathedral; that is surely a sign the people at the time thought it was a story they needed to leave behind for future generations, at any rate."
"Did you look up the previous bishops?" Lawrence asked, and Elsa shrugged.
"Given it's a town that's home to a mine that has long since dried out and is associated with heretical anecdotes, pretending it doesn't exist is the correct judgment. Nothing good will come of anything if an inquisitor gets even a whiff of this place."
They were sweeping the town's existence under the rug.
"On the other hand, it is not just my curiosity. A very practical problem has reared its head. It's rather troubling that we hold lands that cannot be put to good use. One glance tells you how run down this bishopric has become, doesn't it? Selling off a mountain that barely produces any metal and using that money to dig wells and improve the roads would be immensely helpful in changing the people's lives for the better. But likely since the local people know the stories of the land, they are hesitant about such a deal. That is also where a merchant from a faraway place comes into play."
Things finally lined up with the letter of request that he got from the bishop in Atiph.
Lawrence could only sigh in admiration in response to Elsa's sensible judgment.
"Only a merchant from a faraway land could find a buyer who has never heard the rumors of a cursed mountain and knows nothing about the history of the land, right?"
Elsa did not respond, but she smiled.
It made sense that she, an outsider, had been left alone in this massive cathedral to look after it.
Anyone could rest easy knowing that she would take care of things.
"Well, as for venturing up onto the mountain to see what's there, you can leave that to us."