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

Input:
He'd told his opponent everything he knew without asking for any compensation, and yet this was not an uncalculated move.
"...Is that hearsay?"
"My companion got quite close to the church evidently," said Lawrence, and Eve exhaled a deep breath, looked up, and closed her eyes.
She then composed herself and opened her eyes.
"So that's it, is it?"
Lawrence had been right not to lie to Eve.
She didn't have time to bargain with him just to get a bit of information.
"I'm glad you're not some stingy-talking small fry."
"Ah, but if I were a big fish, I wouldn't have to come when called."
"True enough. But when you're a big fish, the world is filled with passages too narrow for you to pass."
The odds could not have been good that Lawrence would have information about the disturbance in the town.
Even if he had been at the trading house, there was no guarantee he would have gotten the information.
Yet she'd found a way to hide her good nature and call Lawrence here, which meant there had to be another reason she'd done so.
And then the reason he'd vaguely anticipated was made clear by her words.
"So are you telling me to go down a small passage?"
"You're in a unique position in this town. You don't have any proper connections here, but you're able to have a pleasant conversation with someone that many in this town are very eager to connect with."
Eve's eyes narrowed in a smile.
As he listened to her words, the image of Kieman claiming to be acquainted with Eve flashed through his mind.
"Of course, I won't say it's free. The story was told to me by the lot that locked me up in here, and their bellies are too large for them to fit through its paths."
She waved a single page of parchment.
It was a contract, signed and stamped.
It was written in the old-style writing and involved the delta marketplace.
"I've only meager coin and goods, sadly, but I've more than enough connections and influence. It'll be a good footing for business."
"And not a yoke?" asked Lawrence, and the fake smile disappeared from Eve's face as she turned expressionless.
"...Yes, a yoke." She reached up and touched her cheek, then looked at her fingers, probably checking for blood. "Aren't you going to ask me how I got this wound?"
"How'd you get it?" Lawrence immediately asked, at which Eve's shoulders shook with mirth, and she covered her mouth like a town lass.
The fact that she seemed genuinely amused was painful to see.
"Well played. It's not that I'm asking you only because you're in the best position."
"But I'm also not badly placed to cross that dangerous bridge."
This was not merely banter.
The moment he let his guard down was the moment he'd be crossing that bridge free of charge.
"My exploiting a gap and your protecting what you have are not the same thing."
"Indeed. My conversations with my companion cut me to the bone."
Constantly on the defensive, Lawrence knew he would eventually lose to Eve.
She nodded and changed her expression. "There's no longer much doubt. The north-side fisherman caught a narwhal."
"A nar—" Lawrence began, but then hastily checked the door over his shoulder.
"Don't worry, he's not such cheap help that he'd eavesdrop on me. The people who locked me up here are terrified I'll get angry, even though they did this to me."
Lawrence didn't know how far he could trust that, but there was nothing to be gained by doubting them.
He nodded and faced forward, then asked the question again. "A narwhal? As in the immortal sort?"
"Yes. A horned sea monster. Eating its flesh brings longevity, and its powdered horn cures all diseases."
Lawrence believed such things to be superstitions, and from Eve's tone, it seemed she was not serious.
"I'd heard that without freezing water they die, so how would one make it this far south?"

Output:
There were any number of tales about immortality methods and cure-all medicines.
Moreover, orthodox believers seemed every bit as inclined to believe them as pagans did.
People's desire to believe in a land free of sickness and suffering where one went after death was proof the world was filled with suffering, and likewise the very fact of the Church's teachings meant that eternal life could never actually be gained.
Travelers and merchants who wandered many lands, seeing all sorts of goods and talking with all sorts of people, as well as soldiers for whom death or old age were constant companions—they all knew such stories were mere superstitions.
But there were many who did not know.
And aristocrats who'd never left their lands were a perfect example.
For a living narwhal, there were some who'd come running, bringing all their gold with them.
"But...surely that doesn't mean—"
"Yes. If they have the narwhal, the north-side faction believes they can turn everything around."
For a moment, Lawrence thought the leg of his chair had broken, so stricken was he at the enormity of the prospect.
This town had enough conflict even in the best of times, and now an article had been found that could flip the balance entirely.
There would be war.
Lawrence realized it instantly.
"The south-side faction wants to control this side at any cost. They can't have equality. It would be bad enough if the north gets the narwhal and sells it to raise the money to pay their debts, and the possibility that they might just involve a landed lord and go straight to war can't be ruled out, either. So the south can't let them have it, no matter the cost. They'll steal it, sell it—two birds, one stone. It will raise an enormous amount."
And if they stormed the church grounds, that would constitute an act of war against the Church.
"So what say you? If you can slip through this passage, don't you think something incredible awaits you on the other side?"
She was right.
Eve was surely trying to use Lawrence's membership in the Rowen Trade Guild to its maximum advantage.
Relations between north and south in this town were at their worst.
Yet in the midst of that, Lawrence had managed to connect with Eve while going unnoticed in the town, which gave him a rare ability.
For a spy, there could be no better position.
But there was something Lawrence had not mentioned.
And that was that he'd already told Kieman about his acquaintance with Eve.
"Will you do it? No..." Eve shook her head deliberately, then looked straight at Lawrence. "What will it take to convince you to do it?"
This would unquestionably involve betraying the guild.
Eve was well aware of that, and the people in the south certainly knew what a trade guild was.
And so Lawrence spoke.
No matter what the reward, Lawrence was confident that as long as it was something he could hold in his hands, it would be granted him.
There was simply that much profit at stake here.
"If I say I'll consider it?"
Eve silently shook her head.
If he refused the offer to become an agent for her, it would not be strange of her to immediately consider him an enemy.
Or at the very least, treat him as such.
Which meant there could be hesitation.
That would be nothing less than hesitation over which side he would ally with, and no one was less trustworthy than a spy.
And yet Lawrence hesitated.
There was no telling what Kieman might be planning, but this could be used.
What would Kieman say if Lawrence told him about this?
With absurd profit piled on both sides of the scale, it didn't easily move either way.
Merchants were always weighing profit and loss.
No, indeed, what else could there be to consider?
"About the wolf remains, was it?" asked Eve flatly, either seeing through Lawrence or having planned to incorporate that into her negotiation all along. "You've good instincts, so I'm sure you noticed that Reynolds is quite serious about them. And that he wants my help."
Eve smiled thinly.


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

Input:
There were any number of tales about immortality methods and cure-all medicines.
Moreover, orthodox believers seemed every bit as inclined to believe them as pagans did.
People's desire to believe in a land free of sickness and suffering where one went after death was proof the world was filled with suffering, and likewise the very fact of the Church's teachings meant that eternal life could never actually be gained.
Travelers and merchants who wandered many lands, seeing all sorts of goods and talking with all sorts of people, as well as soldiers for whom death or old age were constant companions—they all knew such stories were mere superstitions.
But there were many who did not know.
And aristocrats who'd never left their lands were a perfect example.
For a living narwhal, there were some who'd come running, bringing all their gold with them.
"But...surely that doesn't mean—"
"Yes. If they have the narwhal, the north-side faction believes they can turn everything around."
For a moment, Lawrence thought the leg of his chair had broken, so stricken was he at the enormity of the prospect.
This town had enough conflict even in the best of times, and now an article had been found that could flip the balance entirely.
There would be war.
Lawrence realized it instantly.
"The south-side faction wants to control this side at any cost. They can't have equality. It would be bad enough if the north gets the narwhal and sells it to raise the money to pay their debts, and the possibility that they might just involve a landed lord and go straight to war can't be ruled out, either. So the south can't let them have it, no matter the cost. They'll steal it, sell it—two birds, one stone. It will raise an enormous amount."
And if they stormed the church grounds, that would constitute an act of war against the Church.
"So what say you? If you can slip through this passage, don't you think something incredible awaits you on the other side?"
She was right.
Eve was surely trying to use Lawrence's membership in the Rowen Trade Guild to its maximum advantage.
Relations between north and south in this town were at their worst.
Yet in the midst of that, Lawrence had managed to connect with Eve while going unnoticed in the town, which gave him a rare ability.
For a spy, there could be no better position.
But there was something Lawrence had not mentioned.
And that was that he'd already told Kieman about his acquaintance with Eve.
"Will you do it? No..." Eve shook her head deliberately, then looked straight at Lawrence. "What will it take to convince you to do it?"
This would unquestionably involve betraying the guild.
Eve was well aware of that, and the people in the south certainly knew what a trade guild was.
And so Lawrence spoke.
No matter what the reward, Lawrence was confident that as long as it was something he could hold in his hands, it would be granted him.
There was simply that much profit at stake here.
"If I say I'll consider it?"
Eve silently shook her head.
If he refused the offer to become an agent for her, it would not be strange of her to immediately consider him an enemy.
Or at the very least, treat him as such.
Which meant there could be hesitation.
That would be nothing less than hesitation over which side he would ally with, and no one was less trustworthy than a spy.
And yet Lawrence hesitated.
There was no telling what Kieman might be planning, but this could be used.
What would Kieman say if Lawrence told him about this?
With absurd profit piled on both sides of the scale, it didn't easily move either way.
Merchants were always weighing profit and loss.
No, indeed, what else could there be to consider?
"About the wolf remains, was it?" asked Eve flatly, either seeing through Lawrence or having planned to incorporate that into her negotiation all along. "You've good instincts, so I'm sure you noticed that Reynolds is quite serious about them. And that he wants my help."
Eve smiled thinly.

Output:
She probably even had some idea of whom Reynolds wanted to get in contact with.
"...You knew, and you still wrote me that letter."
"Are you angry?"
"Not at all. I'm glad my guess was right."
Eve smiled cynically, standing up from her chair and tossing two more logs onto the fire.
"There aren't many in the north who can afford wood for their fireplaces. Most burn peat."
"And yet I hear there's more charity on this side."
"Heh. That lad will be popular no matter where he goes."
It was enough to make Lawrence want to know just how sweaty Eve's palms were.
Her expression changed readily, but he could tell well enough that she was hiding her true thoughts.
"So how about it? It's quite an opportunity, I reckon."
"Oh, I'm sure it is."
But demons were always offering great power—in exchange for life.
If Lawrence accepted this, there was no question he would damage the trade guild's profits.
Not only that, but if they were to find out, he would either be cast out or punished.
He claimed not to be worried about Holo, but then he remembered Kieman's sudden change, his cold countenance.
And as a merchant, it was no exaggeration to say that his life would be over.
"Did you see Kieman?" Eve asked.
It wasn't out of any particularly iron-clad self-control that Lawrence didn't show surprise on his face.
Eve's words were just so accurate that his shock stunned him into blankness.
"I reckon my name would be sure to come up if you went to the guild house looking for information. I can see his face now," said Eve with what seemed to be simple amusement, as though she were talking about an old friend.
Or else—were even men like Kieman part of Eve's plots?
No, that couldn't be, Lawrence told himself.
"Yes, quite...he's a great merchant, as I recall."
"He certainly is. There's a gifted trader in every guild, and he's the one," said an animated Eve.
"So, why do you mention this Mr. Kieman?"
"He's no one to be trifled with, and he's been chasing me obsessively. Can't blame me for feeling threatened, eh?"
Eve's narrowed eyes looked distinctly wolflike, perfectly suited to a silvery frozen forest.
"...Quite."
"Anyway, he's a formidable man, no question. He's burned me several times over."
Eve looked down at the table, a thin smile playing over her lips.
Memories let one smile even at unhappy things.
But Eve did not have time to waste on introspection.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"If it comes down to that, what would you say to dropping the guild?"
The notion struck Lawrence as more absurd than surprising. "Where would a merchant who'd left his guild go?" he asked.
Membership brought an expanded business network, various rights and privileges, name recognition, all the various profits that came along with those things.
It also provided the peace of mind of knowing you had comrades all across the land.
Leaving those protections was hardly different from choosing bankruptcy.
"You should come work for me," said Eve, fingering the corner of the parchment.
"For you?"
"Yes. Come work for me."
Lawrence remembered the words Reynolds had used: "Bolan Company."
Did such a thing truly exist? Lawrence wondered, as Eve's gaze became distant, and she pointed to her own mouth and spoke.
"I'm locked up in here on the orders of the guy who gave me this wound," she said, indicating the corner of her mouth with a finger—a finger that was feminine, but somehow differently than Holo's.
It was slender and long, but somehow sturdy as well.
Like a sailor preparing to resist the song of the mermaids, Lawrence readied himself to pour lead into his ears.
"He's the grandson of one of the landowners that originally signed the delta marketplace contracts. He's two years younger than me, but his wits and drive for wealth are about the same as mine. And he holds them about as dearly as I do."
Another cynical smile.
Lawrence wondered if the loneliness he saw in her face was just an illusion.


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

Input:
She probably even had some idea of whom Reynolds wanted to get in contact with.
"...You knew, and you still wrote me that letter."
"Are you angry?"
"Not at all. I'm glad my guess was right."
Eve smiled cynically, standing up from her chair and tossing two more logs onto the fire.
"There aren't many in the north who can afford wood for their fireplaces. Most burn peat."
"And yet I hear there's more charity on this side."
"Heh. That lad will be popular no matter where he goes."
It was enough to make Lawrence want to know just how sweaty Eve's palms were.
Her expression changed readily, but he could tell well enough that she was hiding her true thoughts.
"So how about it? It's quite an opportunity, I reckon."
"Oh, I'm sure it is."
But demons were always offering great power—in exchange for life.
If Lawrence accepted this, there was no question he would damage the trade guild's profits.
Not only that, but if they were to find out, he would either be cast out or punished.
He claimed not to be worried about Holo, but then he remembered Kieman's sudden change, his cold countenance.
And as a merchant, it was no exaggeration to say that his life would be over.
"Did you see Kieman?" Eve asked.
It wasn't out of any particularly iron-clad self-control that Lawrence didn't show surprise on his face.
Eve's words were just so accurate that his shock stunned him into blankness.
"I reckon my name would be sure to come up if you went to the guild house looking for information. I can see his face now," said Eve with what seemed to be simple amusement, as though she were talking about an old friend.
Or else—were even men like Kieman part of Eve's plots?
No, that couldn't be, Lawrence told himself.
"Yes, quite...he's a great merchant, as I recall."
"He certainly is. There's a gifted trader in every guild, and he's the one," said an animated Eve.
"So, why do you mention this Mr. Kieman?"
"He's no one to be trifled with, and he's been chasing me obsessively. Can't blame me for feeling threatened, eh?"
Eve's narrowed eyes looked distinctly wolflike, perfectly suited to a silvery frozen forest.
"...Quite."
"Anyway, he's a formidable man, no question. He's burned me several times over."
Eve looked down at the table, a thin smile playing over her lips.
Memories let one smile even at unhappy things.
But Eve did not have time to waste on introspection.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
"If it comes down to that, what would you say to dropping the guild?"
The notion struck Lawrence as more absurd than surprising. "Where would a merchant who'd left his guild go?" he asked.
Membership brought an expanded business network, various rights and privileges, name recognition, all the various profits that came along with those things.
It also provided the peace of mind of knowing you had comrades all across the land.
Leaving those protections was hardly different from choosing bankruptcy.
"You should come work for me," said Eve, fingering the corner of the parchment.
"For you?"
"Yes. Come work for me."
Lawrence remembered the words Reynolds had used: "Bolan Company."
Did such a thing truly exist? Lawrence wondered, as Eve's gaze became distant, and she pointed to her own mouth and spoke.
"I'm locked up in here on the orders of the guy who gave me this wound," she said, indicating the corner of her mouth with a finger—a finger that was feminine, but somehow differently than Holo's.
It was slender and long, but somehow sturdy as well.
Like a sailor preparing to resist the song of the mermaids, Lawrence readied himself to pour lead into his ears.
"He's the grandson of one of the landowners that originally signed the delta marketplace contracts. He's two years younger than me, but his wits and drive for wealth are about the same as mine. And he holds them about as dearly as I do."
Another cynical smile.
Lawrence wondered if the loneliness he saw in her face was just an illusion.

Output:
Then Eve paused, almost laughing softly, but Lawrence saw her cover it up with a deep breath.
But the smile she swallowed became her flesh and blood, and then it showed purposefully on her face.
"There's no way not to betray this, don't you think?"
From Eve's mouth came terrifying words.
She was wooing Lawrence to convince him to betray the trade guild and collect information about the narwhal.
And that in turn was to help the landowners regain their power in Kerube.
But that was only on the surface. The son of one of the landowners was attempting to have the creature for himself, so he could abandon Kerube and go south.
And Eve was saying she would betray that son.
She faced Lawrence.
She spoke. She, whom he had already betrayed.
"Kieman is trying to use me."
Lawrence's head couldn't keep up with Eve's words.
One by one they piled up too high, and he couldn't make sense of them.
"He knows that wayward son is madly in love with me, you see. So he'll contrive to deceive the son through me."
It was like being blindfolded and led onto a battlefield.
Eve was painting a picture with the things Lawrence didn't know, with the things he couldn't know, and with the things whose truth he couldn't possibly discern.
And even if the picture were explained to him, he wouldn't understand it.
It was impossible to understand.
"His goal is to choke the life out of the landowners. Most likely, he'll try to get them to sign a contract that gives him the rights to the land in exchange for handing over the narwhal. The titles will go to Kieman, and the narwhal will be stolen by the son. You would think it absurd, no? Well, just watch me give the plan to that wayward son. When's the actual answer, you ask?"
To avoid suffocating her audience, Eve posed a question even her audience could answer.
"You've gotten past the love affair."
She nodded, satisfied, perhaps because Lawrence had not gotten out of his seat.
"Kieman, of course, understands why I'm thinking about all of this. The old men hate change. We'd be best rid of these circumstances, but for long years there's been no way to change them. That's true for both the north and south sides. And it's also true that the younger generation is frustrated. I'll bet Kieman's been going mad trying to figure something out, some way to overturn the strange balance of Kerube and reform the town, along the way outwitting the other companies and trade guilds and making a real name for himself. Cleverly, rationally, and for his own reasons."
"Or at least that's the picture the trap you've surely readied is using."
It was all Lawrence could say.
Eve showed Lawrence both palms in a gesture of surrender.
He knew perfectly well he was being made fun of.
"I have no way of verifying the truth of these things you've said. So on what do you suppose I should found my decision?"
The wolf of the Roam River territory smiled and answered, "Your past experiences."
"I've been deceived before."
"Indeed, you have. But a wise merchant said something, once." It was somehow odd that her curled lip was not baring a sharp fang. "Suspect deception, but be deceived," said Eve, and chuckled.
It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if she were drunk.
No, she surely was, for this strange exchange of illusions within illusions.
Lawrence prepared himself and stood up from his chair.
It would only be dangerous to remain here.
"I assume your answer is 'nay'?"
Despite a conversation for which she should have been so drunk she would've been unsteady on her feet, Eve's voice was as cold and clear as a winter stream.
Hence the cold shiver down his back, Lawrence was sure.


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

Input:
Then Eve paused, almost laughing softly, but Lawrence saw her cover it up with a deep breath.
But the smile she swallowed became her flesh and blood, and then it showed purposefully on her face.
"There's no way not to betray this, don't you think?"
From Eve's mouth came terrifying words.
She was wooing Lawrence to convince him to betray the trade guild and collect information about the narwhal.
And that in turn was to help the landowners regain their power in Kerube.
But that was only on the surface. The son of one of the landowners was attempting to have the creature for himself, so he could abandon Kerube and go south.
And Eve was saying she would betray that son.
She faced Lawrence.
She spoke. She, whom he had already betrayed.
"Kieman is trying to use me."
Lawrence's head couldn't keep up with Eve's words.
One by one they piled up too high, and he couldn't make sense of them.
"He knows that wayward son is madly in love with me, you see. So he'll contrive to deceive the son through me."
It was like being blindfolded and led onto a battlefield.
Eve was painting a picture with the things Lawrence didn't know, with the things he couldn't know, and with the things whose truth he couldn't possibly discern.
And even if the picture were explained to him, he wouldn't understand it.
It was impossible to understand.
"His goal is to choke the life out of the landowners. Most likely, he'll try to get them to sign a contract that gives him the rights to the land in exchange for handing over the narwhal. The titles will go to Kieman, and the narwhal will be stolen by the son. You would think it absurd, no? Well, just watch me give the plan to that wayward son. When's the actual answer, you ask?"
To avoid suffocating her audience, Eve posed a question even her audience could answer.
"You've gotten past the love affair."
She nodded, satisfied, perhaps because Lawrence had not gotten out of his seat.
"Kieman, of course, understands why I'm thinking about all of this. The old men hate change. We'd be best rid of these circumstances, but for long years there's been no way to change them. That's true for both the north and south sides. And it's also true that the younger generation is frustrated. I'll bet Kieman's been going mad trying to figure something out, some way to overturn the strange balance of Kerube and reform the town, along the way outwitting the other companies and trade guilds and making a real name for himself. Cleverly, rationally, and for his own reasons."
"Or at least that's the picture the trap you've surely readied is using."
It was all Lawrence could say.
Eve showed Lawrence both palms in a gesture of surrender.
He knew perfectly well he was being made fun of.
"I have no way of verifying the truth of these things you've said. So on what do you suppose I should found my decision?"
The wolf of the Roam River territory smiled and answered, "Your past experiences."
"I've been deceived before."
"Indeed, you have. But a wise merchant said something, once." It was somehow odd that her curled lip was not baring a sharp fang. "Suspect deception, but be deceived," said Eve, and chuckled.
It was enough to make Lawrence wonder if she were drunk.
No, she surely was, for this strange exchange of illusions within illusions.
Lawrence prepared himself and stood up from his chair.
It would only be dangerous to remain here.
"I assume your answer is 'nay'?"
Despite a conversation for which she should have been so drunk she would've been unsteady on her feet, Eve's voice was as cold and clear as a winter stream.
Hence the cold shiver down his back, Lawrence was sure.

Output:
Eve Bolan, the merchant and onetime noblewoman.
Lawrence's hand unconsciously went for the knife at his belt.
"If you think I'm unarmed, you're quite mistaken." The smile disappeared from Eve's face.
She'd claimed he wasn't listening, but there was a guard with a sword standing watch outside the door. And he doubted he was some mere neighborhood ruffian.
And anyway, merchants best avoided sword fights.
Lawrence slowly pulled his hand away from the knife, gave a short bow, turned his back, and began to walk away.
Eve's words came just as he was putting his hand to the door.
"You'll regret it."
The same words Kieman had said.
Lawrence clenched his teeth and opened the door.
There in the hallway, the guard leaned against the wall, eyes closed, just as before.
He looked as he passed by and saw the sword, clasp undone, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
"Tell no one," the guard said.
Lawrence didn't nod, didn't even reply, and not because the order somehow went without saying.
He couldn't tell anyone.
He'd considered himself a full-fledged traveling merchant for many years now—long enough to know perfectly well just how small he was.
And yet he'd just glimpsed a piece of a terrifying structure.
A gamble with a truly unbelievable amount of money.
He couldn't rid himself of the thought of it.
When he opened the front door of the building, a carriage was waiting, and it had been readied for Lawrence.
"Sir, please."
On the opposite side of the driver were the three workers still cutting the hide.
And then Lawrence realized.
They were lookouts.
He accepted the proffered cloak and draped it low over his head as he climbed into the carriage.
He asked himself if he should seek Kieman's protection. Given how much of her own hand Eve had shown, Lawrence couldn't imagine that Kieman would leave him be.
Any deal in a market where the prices were unknown was best abandoned.
Lawrence was lost in contemplation, and before he knew it, he arrived at his inn's rear entrance.
Forcing the strained muscles in his face to move, he thanked the driver, entering the inn and heaving a deep sigh.
The innkeeper's face peeked in—he probably heard the door open and close—and Lawrence wordlessly returned the cloak. He must have looked terrible indeed, for the innkeeper offered him a drink, but Lawrence refused it and made straight for the room.
The best course of action would be to escape before they were sniffed out here and before Kieman turned serious.
But now that he knew for certain that the Jean Company was pursuing the tale, there was a possibility that he could use them in some other city to begin collecting information again.
Lawrence put his hand to the door and opened it.
What he needed to do now was protect his tiny boat from the approaching storm.
No picture could possibly have captured the look on his face in that moment.
"Something came for you," said Holo.
She held up a sheet of parchment, and Lawrence knew at a glance what it was.
It had the seal of the Rowen Trade Guild.
The red wax impression of the seal seemed, without any exaggeration, like the signature of some demon.
Though his mouth went dry, he tried desperately to swallow.
The guild had long since discovered where he was staying.
Kieman was serious.
And everything Eve said was true.
Talk was continuing over Lawrence's head.
The huge gears made a terrible grinding sound as they turned.
***
It has been a while. This is Isuna Hasekura.
Just as the title suggests, this is the first volume of a  story.
As to the question of why that is, answering it would take a book in and of itself, so I can't say too much, but the major reason is that it's impossible to tell how many pages a basic plot will require.
I planned to write only what was absolutely necessary, but it kept growing and growing.


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

Input:
Eve Bolan, the merchant and onetime noblewoman.
Lawrence's hand unconsciously went for the knife at his belt.
"If you think I'm unarmed, you're quite mistaken." The smile disappeared from Eve's face.
She'd claimed he wasn't listening, but there was a guard with a sword standing watch outside the door. And he doubted he was some mere neighborhood ruffian.
And anyway, merchants best avoided sword fights.
Lawrence slowly pulled his hand away from the knife, gave a short bow, turned his back, and began to walk away.
Eve's words came just as he was putting his hand to the door.
"You'll regret it."
The same words Kieman had said.
Lawrence clenched his teeth and opened the door.
There in the hallway, the guard leaned against the wall, eyes closed, just as before.
He looked as he passed by and saw the sword, clasp undone, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
"Tell no one," the guard said.
Lawrence didn't nod, didn't even reply, and not because the order somehow went without saying.
He couldn't tell anyone.
He'd considered himself a full-fledged traveling merchant for many years now—long enough to know perfectly well just how small he was.
And yet he'd just glimpsed a piece of a terrifying structure.
A gamble with a truly unbelievable amount of money.
He couldn't rid himself of the thought of it.
When he opened the front door of the building, a carriage was waiting, and it had been readied for Lawrence.
"Sir, please."
On the opposite side of the driver were the three workers still cutting the hide.
And then Lawrence realized.
They were lookouts.
He accepted the proffered cloak and draped it low over his head as he climbed into the carriage.
He asked himself if he should seek Kieman's protection. Given how much of her own hand Eve had shown, Lawrence couldn't imagine that Kieman would leave him be.
Any deal in a market where the prices were unknown was best abandoned.
Lawrence was lost in contemplation, and before he knew it, he arrived at his inn's rear entrance.
Forcing the strained muscles in his face to move, he thanked the driver, entering the inn and heaving a deep sigh.
The innkeeper's face peeked in—he probably heard the door open and close—and Lawrence wordlessly returned the cloak. He must have looked terrible indeed, for the innkeeper offered him a drink, but Lawrence refused it and made straight for the room.
The best course of action would be to escape before they were sniffed out here and before Kieman turned serious.
But now that he knew for certain that the Jean Company was pursuing the tale, there was a possibility that he could use them in some other city to begin collecting information again.
Lawrence put his hand to the door and opened it.
What he needed to do now was protect his tiny boat from the approaching storm.
No picture could possibly have captured the look on his face in that moment.
"Something came for you," said Holo.
She held up a sheet of parchment, and Lawrence knew at a glance what it was.
It had the seal of the Rowen Trade Guild.
The red wax impression of the seal seemed, without any exaggeration, like the signature of some demon.
Though his mouth went dry, he tried desperately to swallow.
The guild had long since discovered where he was staying.
Kieman was serious.
And everything Eve said was true.
Talk was continuing over Lawrence's head.
The huge gears made a terrible grinding sound as they turned.
***
It has been a while. This is Isuna Hasekura.
Just as the title suggests, this is the first volume of a  story.
As to the question of why that is, answering it would take a book in and of itself, so I can't say too much, but the major reason is that it's impossible to tell how many pages a basic plot will require.
I planned to write only what was absolutely necessary, but it kept growing and growing.

Output:
Which all means that my beautiful bimonthly publication schedule did not quite happen and a bit of a gap opened up, so hopefully you all will do me the favor of waiting a bit longer.
Lawrence should be really cool in the second volume.
At least, that's what the plot says!
Incidentally, recently I ate something truly strange and now will report about it.
It was sashimi made from—I swear—the back fat of an Asiatic black bear.
The restaurant owner was an amazing hunter and had taken wild boars in Okinawa and deer in Nara, and prepared the game he took as dishes in his restaurant. Well, apparently, he was lying about the deer, but the boar was true.
So, the Asiatic black bear back fat.
According to what I'd heard in advance, it was said to be not unlike uma no tategami, or sashimi made from the tender neck meat of a horse, but when I actually tried it, it was like unsalted butter. It melted in my mouth immediately, and there was no odor at all, only a slight fatty sweetness, and lacking any actual meat, it really was just like eating butter.
There on a side street surrounded by high-rise buildings, sitting in front of the shop on folding chairs and using a small refrigerator filled with beer as a table, it really was a very  rustic-seeming situation, which made things only more delicious.
Now that I've talked about it, it's made me want yakiniku for dinner, so I think I'll do that tonight.
And it looks like I've filled the page, so we'll leave it at that. I'll see you again in the next volume.
Isuna Hasekura
***
Kerube is a town divided by a river and a delta. The landowners on the north side of the river own the delta, which is an important commerce hub, but it was developed using loans made by wealthy merchants on the south side. Thus the northern landlords have been forced by the southern merchants to continue to pay large amounts of interest on their loan.
***
The Narwhal is a legendary creature, said to bestow long life and cure disease. It valuable enough to upend the delicate balance of power in Kerube.
***
Seeking more information about the wolf bones, Lawrence, Holo, and Col arrive in Kerube. With a letter of introduction from Eve, they visit the Jean Company, which is rumored to be connected with the Debau Company—but Reynolds, the owner of the Jean Company, seems to think the wolf bones are a mere superstition.
Later, in the delta marketplace, Lawrence happens upon Eve and learns of the situation between the north and south sides of Kerube. Eve has been pressed by the northern landlords into solving their territory dispute and has learned that Reynolds's business profits are being stolen by those same landlords. Concluding that Reynolds is himself still searching for the wolf bones, Lawrence goes to see Kieman, the head of the local Rowen Trade Guild branch—but having done so, he becomes torn between trusting the Guild or Eve.
Meanwhile, a legendary sea-beast is brought ashore—a narwhal. Eve contacts Lawrence and tells him of her plan to steal the narwhal away from the northern landlords. As Lawrence agonizes over what to do, he receives a letter from Kieman...
***
The human is a weak creature indeed.
It has neither fangs nor claws nor wings on which to flee.
So to protect themselves, humans must use their minds—technology, strategy, or...
Every creature, human or animal, shares a common method of self-defense.
And that is to form groups.
A single sheep is weak. But a flock of thousands need not flinch at the attack of a few wolves.
By functioning as part of that group, a single animal can find safety, surviving to leave behind descendants.
Humans are the same; they come together to live in groups, and those groups eventually came to be called villages, then cities, as they drove back the darkness of the forest.


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

Input:
Which all means that my beautiful bimonthly publication schedule did not quite happen and a bit of a gap opened up, so hopefully you all will do me the favor of waiting a bit longer.
Lawrence should be really cool in the second volume.
At least, that's what the plot says!
Incidentally, recently I ate something truly strange and now will report about it.
It was sashimi made from—I swear—the back fat of an Asiatic black bear.
The restaurant owner was an amazing hunter and had taken wild boars in Okinawa and deer in Nara, and prepared the game he took as dishes in his restaurant. Well, apparently, he was lying about the deer, but the boar was true.
So, the Asiatic black bear back fat.
According to what I'd heard in advance, it was said to be not unlike uma no tategami, or sashimi made from the tender neck meat of a horse, but when I actually tried it, it was like unsalted butter. It melted in my mouth immediately, and there was no odor at all, only a slight fatty sweetness, and lacking any actual meat, it really was just like eating butter.
There on a side street surrounded by high-rise buildings, sitting in front of the shop on folding chairs and using a small refrigerator filled with beer as a table, it really was a very  rustic-seeming situation, which made things only more delicious.
Now that I've talked about it, it's made me want yakiniku for dinner, so I think I'll do that tonight.
And it looks like I've filled the page, so we'll leave it at that. I'll see you again in the next volume.
Isuna Hasekura
***
Kerube is a town divided by a river and a delta. The landowners on the north side of the river own the delta, which is an important commerce hub, but it was developed using loans made by wealthy merchants on the south side. Thus the northern landlords have been forced by the southern merchants to continue to pay large amounts of interest on their loan.
***
The Narwhal is a legendary creature, said to bestow long life and cure disease. It valuable enough to upend the delicate balance of power in Kerube.
***
Seeking more information about the wolf bones, Lawrence, Holo, and Col arrive in Kerube. With a letter of introduction from Eve, they visit the Jean Company, which is rumored to be connected with the Debau Company—but Reynolds, the owner of the Jean Company, seems to think the wolf bones are a mere superstition.
Later, in the delta marketplace, Lawrence happens upon Eve and learns of the situation between the north and south sides of Kerube. Eve has been pressed by the northern landlords into solving their territory dispute and has learned that Reynolds's business profits are being stolen by those same landlords. Concluding that Reynolds is himself still searching for the wolf bones, Lawrence goes to see Kieman, the head of the local Rowen Trade Guild branch—but having done so, he becomes torn between trusting the Guild or Eve.
Meanwhile, a legendary sea-beast is brought ashore—a narwhal. Eve contacts Lawrence and tells him of her plan to steal the narwhal away from the northern landlords. As Lawrence agonizes over what to do, he receives a letter from Kieman...
***
The human is a weak creature indeed.
It has neither fangs nor claws nor wings on which to flee.
So to protect themselves, humans must use their minds—technology, strategy, or...
Every creature, human or animal, shares a common method of self-defense.
And that is to form groups.
A single sheep is weak. But a flock of thousands need not flinch at the attack of a few wolves.
By functioning as part of that group, a single animal can find safety, surviving to leave behind descendants.
Humans are the same; they come together to live in groups, and those groups eventually came to be called villages, then cities, as they drove back the darkness of the forest.

Output:
It is like a single great beast, and for a single powerless creature to receive the benefit of that beast's claws and fangs, they must think of themselves first as part of that creature rather than as a single individual.
When the beast turns right, they must turn right. When it runs left, they must run left. And when it wishes to eat fowl, a fowl they must hunt.
Even if that fowl happens to be their own beloved songbird.
The human is a weak creature indeed.
Here in this world where the gods have long remained hidden in the mists, humans cannot survive on their own.
So to protect themselves from the darkness of the forest, they become a single beast surrounded by walls of earth and stone.
Even though they know full well that having borrowed that great beast's power even once, they will never escape its yoke.
Betrayal is never tolerated.
Such is the only way to survive the storms of fate that buffet the world—by the bonds of blood and solidarity.
***
"We must leave this place," Lawrence said bluntly. "And quickly, too."
He entered the room with long strides. On the table were the coins, the puzzle of which Col had solved, and Lawrence gathered them into his coin purse as though he were making a sandpile on a beach.
The travelers' life was one of casting off needless things.
Everything they needed was already packed in a burlap bag in the room's corner, and if flight was necessary, they could simply cinch the bag up, shoulder it, and run—it was far from rare to be attacked during the night, after all.
"Come, you."
Lawrence looked up at the voice.
It was the surprised face of his traveling companion, Holo.
"What's this, then?"
In her hand was a letter written on a single piece of parchment.
Inscribed on it was a statement in curt, undecorated letters, along with a bloodred wax seal in the bottom-right corner.
It was addressed to none other than Lawrence, and the sender was the Rowen Trade Guild. For a traveling merchant like Lawrence, whose livelihood was ever uncertain, the group of comrade merchants was most encouraging.
Its seal was a powerful shield in any town and could be a powerful weapon as well.
And the guild had sent Lawrence a letter at the inn where he stayed on the north side of Kerube.
"'We seek now a brave merchant who fears neither witch nor alchemist. In consideration of both the wealth and progress of the guild, by all means, please...signed, Lud Kieman.'"
Holo read the letter's contents aloud smoothly and then looked to Lawrence curiously.
Next to Holo, their other travel companion, Col, peered at the document in her hands.
The letter was from Lud Kieman, chief trader of the Kerube branch of the Rowen Trade Guild, and its meaning was clear—there was no doubt that he was trying to get Lawrence's cooperation, just as Eve said he would.
He wanted to deliver the narwhal to Eve and to receive in return the titles for the land on the north side of the river, thereby transforming the balance of power in the town. The narwhal was a creature so valuable that it made such things possible.
But neither Kieman nor Eve could trust the other. Each of them was far too hypocritical to shake hands over a contract. They needed someone to act as a middleman, a go-between. And if possible, someone whom they could each easily control.
In the midst of heated competition over such vast profits, a merchant's life was worth no more than a single grain of wheat.
Lawrence could hear the crunch, crunch of creaking bones.
Col and Holo's lack of concern only further aggravated his nervousness. "Don't you see? This is a summons from my guild," he said by way of explanation, tying the burlap sack tightly closed.
"Your guild?" came Holo's reply, which made Lawrence stand and shake his head.


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

Input:
It is like a single great beast, and for a single powerless creature to receive the benefit of that beast's claws and fangs, they must think of themselves first as part of that creature rather than as a single individual.
When the beast turns right, they must turn right. When it runs left, they must run left. And when it wishes to eat fowl, a fowl they must hunt.
Even if that fowl happens to be their own beloved songbird.
The human is a weak creature indeed.
Here in this world where the gods have long remained hidden in the mists, humans cannot survive on their own.
So to protect themselves from the darkness of the forest, they become a single beast surrounded by walls of earth and stone.
Even though they know full well that having borrowed that great beast's power even once, they will never escape its yoke.
Betrayal is never tolerated.
Such is the only way to survive the storms of fate that buffet the world—by the bonds of blood and solidarity.
***
"We must leave this place," Lawrence said bluntly. "And quickly, too."
He entered the room with long strides. On the table were the coins, the puzzle of which Col had solved, and Lawrence gathered them into his coin purse as though he were making a sandpile on a beach.
The travelers' life was one of casting off needless things.
Everything they needed was already packed in a burlap bag in the room's corner, and if flight was necessary, they could simply cinch the bag up, shoulder it, and run—it was far from rare to be attacked during the night, after all.
"Come, you."
Lawrence looked up at the voice.
It was the surprised face of his traveling companion, Holo.
"What's this, then?"
In her hand was a letter written on a single piece of parchment.
Inscribed on it was a statement in curt, undecorated letters, along with a bloodred wax seal in the bottom-right corner.
It was addressed to none other than Lawrence, and the sender was the Rowen Trade Guild. For a traveling merchant like Lawrence, whose livelihood was ever uncertain, the group of comrade merchants was most encouraging.
Its seal was a powerful shield in any town and could be a powerful weapon as well.
And the guild had sent Lawrence a letter at the inn where he stayed on the north side of Kerube.
"'We seek now a brave merchant who fears neither witch nor alchemist. In consideration of both the wealth and progress of the guild, by all means, please...signed, Lud Kieman.'"
Holo read the letter's contents aloud smoothly and then looked to Lawrence curiously.
Next to Holo, their other travel companion, Col, peered at the document in her hands.
The letter was from Lud Kieman, chief trader of the Kerube branch of the Rowen Trade Guild, and its meaning was clear—there was no doubt that he was trying to get Lawrence's cooperation, just as Eve said he would.
He wanted to deliver the narwhal to Eve and to receive in return the titles for the land on the north side of the river, thereby transforming the balance of power in the town. The narwhal was a creature so valuable that it made such things possible.
But neither Kieman nor Eve could trust the other. Each of them was far too hypocritical to shake hands over a contract. They needed someone to act as a middleman, a go-between. And if possible, someone whom they could each easily control.
In the midst of heated competition over such vast profits, a merchant's life was worth no more than a single grain of wheat.
Lawrence could hear the crunch, crunch of creaking bones.
Col and Holo's lack of concern only further aggravated his nervousness. "Don't you see? This is a summons from my guild," he said by way of explanation, tying the burlap sack tightly closed.
"Your guild?" came Holo's reply, which made Lawrence stand and shake his head.

Output:
Traders as powerless as traveling merchants can safely move from town to town only because of their guild attachments. Because the guild works tirelessly to acquire various rights and privileges in each town, its merchants could visit those towns and conduct business without worry.
But being able to dine on the fruits plucked by the guild's claws and teeth meant that when a merchant's cooperation was asked, a member could not refuse it.
Because no matter how absurd the request, the many privileges the merchant had so far enjoyed came at the cost of the hard labor of his comrades.
Yet there was a limit to how obligated one could be.
Kieman was scheming in service of his own self-interest and trying to pull Lawrence into those machinations.
He would claim it was in the interests of the guild, and as long as his preparations were thorough, Lawrence would be unable to refuse lest he be branded a traitor by the guild. And there was another reason for Lawrence to be worried—the person with whom he'd only recently conversed in another building.
If Kieman was the head of a great giant composed of an army of merchants, then his enemy was a wolf of equally impressive stature.
And that wolf had unexpectedly asked Lawrence to betray the guild.
Of course, she was waiting with the promise of dizzying profit, and indeed her proposal to Lawrence was just one part of a larger stratagem she had already set in motion.
It was all but a forgone conclusion that a single traveling merchant would easily be swept away in this crimson maelstrom of money and chance.
Between the gears of power and influence, the blood of a single human was generally of no great value.
"We must leave the city. As soon as possible. Before we no longer can."
There was still time.
Lawrence swallowed those words like a prayer. "Both of you, quickly," he added.
"Would you not calm yourself?" came Holo's cool words, pouring over the scalding fires in his mind.
Those words were like water spilling into boiling oil. Lawrence exploded in spite of himself. "I am quite calm!"
Col stood next to Holo, holding a small wine cask, and he recoiled almost audibly at the sound. Beside him, the white down on Holo's ears stirred the merest fraction.
It was blazingly obvious which of the three was the least composed in the room.
***
Lawrence put down his own load, looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
He remembered that once when he had been on the verge of bankruptcy and ruin, he had slapped Holo's hand away in anger.
He asked himself if he had learned nothing since then.
Inwardly, he cursed himself.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with a pliant male who bends like a green twig, but such a man can hardly be relied upon. A fool is so much the better for his obviousness."
Holo's tail wagged as she stroked Col's head; the boy watched the developments carefully.
"Though possessing two eyes, most creatures can see but a single thing at a time. Do you know why males and females go to such lengths to bond with each other?"
She took the wine cask from Col and pulled its cork free with her teeth. With a light gesture of her chin, she signaled for Col to take the cork from her.
Col did as he was instructed as if well acquainted with the process.
During that time, Holo's eyes remained fixed on Lawrence. "I'm sure your common sense has led you to some sort of clear conclusion."
Lawrence didn't have to ask what Holo would have added to that statement.
The two of them, Holo and Col, sat side by side and regarded him. The pair looked somehow fragile in that moment, which made Lawrence feel like a villain.
"Hmph. From twixt stalks of wheat, I once often witnessed such ill manners in the village."
Lawrence knew what Holo was trying to say.
Col seemed to catch up a bit later, and when he looked away uneasily, Holo elbowed him, as if to say, "Spit it out."
"...My father...was often like this."


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

Input:
Traders as powerless as traveling merchants can safely move from town to town only because of their guild attachments. Because the guild works tirelessly to acquire various rights and privileges in each town, its merchants could visit those towns and conduct business without worry.
But being able to dine on the fruits plucked by the guild's claws and teeth meant that when a merchant's cooperation was asked, a member could not refuse it.
Because no matter how absurd the request, the many privileges the merchant had so far enjoyed came at the cost of the hard labor of his comrades.
Yet there was a limit to how obligated one could be.
Kieman was scheming in service of his own self-interest and trying to pull Lawrence into those machinations.
He would claim it was in the interests of the guild, and as long as his preparations were thorough, Lawrence would be unable to refuse lest he be branded a traitor by the guild. And there was another reason for Lawrence to be worried—the person with whom he'd only recently conversed in another building.
If Kieman was the head of a great giant composed of an army of merchants, then his enemy was a wolf of equally impressive stature.
And that wolf had unexpectedly asked Lawrence to betray the guild.
Of course, she was waiting with the promise of dizzying profit, and indeed her proposal to Lawrence was just one part of a larger stratagem she had already set in motion.
It was all but a forgone conclusion that a single traveling merchant would easily be swept away in this crimson maelstrom of money and chance.
Between the gears of power and influence, the blood of a single human was generally of no great value.
"We must leave the city. As soon as possible. Before we no longer can."
There was still time.
Lawrence swallowed those words like a prayer. "Both of you, quickly," he added.
"Would you not calm yourself?" came Holo's cool words, pouring over the scalding fires in his mind.
Those words were like water spilling into boiling oil. Lawrence exploded in spite of himself. "I am quite calm!"
Col stood next to Holo, holding a small wine cask, and he recoiled almost audibly at the sound. Beside him, the white down on Holo's ears stirred the merest fraction.
It was blazingly obvious which of the three was the least composed in the room.
***
Lawrence put down his own load, looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
He remembered that once when he had been on the verge of bankruptcy and ruin, he had slapped Holo's hand away in anger.
He asked himself if he had learned nothing since then.
Inwardly, he cursed himself.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with a pliant male who bends like a green twig, but such a man can hardly be relied upon. A fool is so much the better for his obviousness."
Holo's tail wagged as she stroked Col's head; the boy watched the developments carefully.
"Though possessing two eyes, most creatures can see but a single thing at a time. Do you know why males and females go to such lengths to bond with each other?"
She took the wine cask from Col and pulled its cork free with her teeth. With a light gesture of her chin, she signaled for Col to take the cork from her.
Col did as he was instructed as if well acquainted with the process.
During that time, Holo's eyes remained fixed on Lawrence. "I'm sure your common sense has led you to some sort of clear conclusion."
Lawrence didn't have to ask what Holo would have added to that statement.
The two of them, Holo and Col, sat side by side and regarded him. The pair looked somehow fragile in that moment, which made Lawrence feel like a villain.
"Hmph. From twixt stalks of wheat, I once often witnessed such ill manners in the village."
Lawrence knew what Holo was trying to say.
Col seemed to catch up a bit later, and when he looked away uneasily, Holo elbowed him, as if to say, "Spit it out."
"...My father...was often like this."

Output:
"Save your apologies. I want not answers. What I ask for is an explanation. We are not your followers. We've no obligation to do as you tell us. Do I not speak the truth?"
She admonished him without anger, and her statement was effective because it was correct.
The two were not the innocent, helpless people they appeared to be.
They were each independent beings, perfectly capable of conceiving and carrying out their own plans.
To arbitrarily decide what to do right in front of them was itself a sort of betrayal.
"So then, what happened?" asked Holo, wearing a trace of a smile.
Despite having castigated him for his narrow vision, she seemed to acknowledge that he must have his reasons.
And stubbornness was not a merchant's way.
Lawrence shook his head—not to deny her words, but rather to clear his own mind.
He recalled the exchange in which he had engaged earlier.
"Eve invited me to act as her spy."
"Oh ho," said Holo briefly, putting the wine to her lips. She meant for him to continue.
"And the sender of that letter, Kieman, wants me to act as his spy as well."
"So you're trapped, then."
Lawrence nodded and continued on to the subject that was the root of the trouble.
"The reason for all of this is because the south side has captured a fishing boat from the north. That's all it will take to spark the conflict between the poor north and the wealthy southern sides. The southerners resorted to this because they wanted the valuable catch of the northerner's boat. Eve has been charged with returning the prize to the north, but the one who gave her the order is not doing so out of loyalty to the north, but rather for his own profit. And Eve is merely pretending to go along with this; she plans to betray the north and has asked me to help."
The matter wouldn't be settled with mere hundreds of lumione.
And yet she was perfectly willing to conduct this deal, the value of which extended into thousands of gold coins.
"Quite a female," declared Holo with an irritated smirk. Col seemed to be afraid of making a conversational misstep, so he stared off into space.
"But since Eve declared her intention to betray the north, it's likely she's willing to betray anyone, is it not?"
Theoretically, two negatives equaled a positive, and the enemy of one's enemy was an ally. But only Eve knew whether her betrayal upon betrayal would work to her profit in the end.
"'Tis a bog of doubt, then, aye. When even your own pack is trying to use you to their own ends, I suppose 'tis no surprise your face is white with worry."
Holo took a swig from the wine cask and burped.
That she could say such things and drink wine as she did so was infuriating, but Lawrence only painted on a pained smile.
Besides, as the saying went, knights who survived the battlefield were ever smiling, and merchants were no different.
"Is there any solution that satisfies all parties?"
"Since Eve isn't truly working for the north, it shouldn't matter to her where her profit comes from. Which means she shouldn't mind receiving her share from the Rowen Trade Guild. It's possible that both Eve and the guild could profit. So as long as she doesn't decide to betray both me and the guild in order to take everything for herself, that could work."
"Hmm."
"Alternatively, I could act in favor of the guild's profit and try to exclude Eve entirely."
"Mmm...So we must either throw ourselves on the mercy of a villain or be blindly optimistic, eh?"
Otherwise, Lawrence would not be in this position—such was the logical conclusion.
Lawrence nodded and put his hands on the table.
"But this is all guesswork based on what I've been able to learn. In such a vast operation, there is too much I don't know. If I get involved, I can't help but be a pawn for those above me."
If Lawrence could plumb the depths of these schemes, he could turn them to his profit. But to do that, he had to understand exactly where those depths lay.
"So you're left with discretion being the better part of valor, eh?" said Holo.


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

Input:
"Save your apologies. I want not answers. What I ask for is an explanation. We are not your followers. We've no obligation to do as you tell us. Do I not speak the truth?"
She admonished him without anger, and her statement was effective because it was correct.
The two were not the innocent, helpless people they appeared to be.
They were each independent beings, perfectly capable of conceiving and carrying out their own plans.
To arbitrarily decide what to do right in front of them was itself a sort of betrayal.
"So then, what happened?" asked Holo, wearing a trace of a smile.
Despite having castigated him for his narrow vision, she seemed to acknowledge that he must have his reasons.
And stubbornness was not a merchant's way.
Lawrence shook his head—not to deny her words, but rather to clear his own mind.
He recalled the exchange in which he had engaged earlier.
"Eve invited me to act as her spy."
"Oh ho," said Holo briefly, putting the wine to her lips. She meant for him to continue.
"And the sender of that letter, Kieman, wants me to act as his spy as well."
"So you're trapped, then."
Lawrence nodded and continued on to the subject that was the root of the trouble.
"The reason for all of this is because the south side has captured a fishing boat from the north. That's all it will take to spark the conflict between the poor north and the wealthy southern sides. The southerners resorted to this because they wanted the valuable catch of the northerner's boat. Eve has been charged with returning the prize to the north, but the one who gave her the order is not doing so out of loyalty to the north, but rather for his own profit. And Eve is merely pretending to go along with this; she plans to betray the north and has asked me to help."
The matter wouldn't be settled with mere hundreds of lumione.
And yet she was perfectly willing to conduct this deal, the value of which extended into thousands of gold coins.
"Quite a female," declared Holo with an irritated smirk. Col seemed to be afraid of making a conversational misstep, so he stared off into space.
"But since Eve declared her intention to betray the north, it's likely she's willing to betray anyone, is it not?"
Theoretically, two negatives equaled a positive, and the enemy of one's enemy was an ally. But only Eve knew whether her betrayal upon betrayal would work to her profit in the end.
"'Tis a bog of doubt, then, aye. When even your own pack is trying to use you to their own ends, I suppose 'tis no surprise your face is white with worry."
Holo took a swig from the wine cask and burped.
That she could say such things and drink wine as she did so was infuriating, but Lawrence only painted on a pained smile.
Besides, as the saying went, knights who survived the battlefield were ever smiling, and merchants were no different.
"Is there any solution that satisfies all parties?"
"Since Eve isn't truly working for the north, it shouldn't matter to her where her profit comes from. Which means she shouldn't mind receiving her share from the Rowen Trade Guild. It's possible that both Eve and the guild could profit. So as long as she doesn't decide to betray both me and the guild in order to take everything for herself, that could work."
"Hmm."
"Alternatively, I could act in favor of the guild's profit and try to exclude Eve entirely."
"Mmm...So we must either throw ourselves on the mercy of a villain or be blindly optimistic, eh?"
Otherwise, Lawrence would not be in this position—such was the logical conclusion.
Lawrence nodded and put his hands on the table.
"But this is all guesswork based on what I've been able to learn. In such a vast operation, there is too much I don't know. If I get involved, I can't help but be a pawn for those above me."
If Lawrence could plumb the depths of these schemes, he could turn them to his profit. But to do that, he had to understand exactly where those depths lay.
"So you're left with discretion being the better part of valor, eh?" said Holo.

Output:
As a lonely wandering merchant, how many times had the seal on that letter come to his aid? It was a magical emblem, both a powerful weapon and a sturdy shield.
He'd never doubted its might.
Which was why—now that its power was turned against him—he could see no alternative but escape.
"So that vixen and your pack are fighting over the same prize, then? What might that be?"
"Huh? Oh yes. It's what you say you saw on the south side."
"Surely not the bones?"
Lawrence and his party had come to the seaside town of Kerube, far from Holo's homelands of Yoitsu, in search of a certain item—the bones of what was said to be a wolf-god worshipped in the mountains of Roef.
Holo had discovered the possibility that the bones would be used in an unforgivable manner by the Church, while Col wanted to learn the truth of his homeland's god.
Holo's tone was thus amused when she asked the question, but her eyes were not smiling.
The object in question was not so very far from the wolf bones as goods went, which was why the powers that be were in such a frenzy to acquire it.
"Something similar. A beast from the northern seas—a magical creature with a single horn. Eating its flesh grants long life, and a tincture of its horn cures disease. It's called a narwhal. Evidently one of the north side's fishing boats hauled one up in its nets."
Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak as though his words were a pleasant side dish to go with her wine, but suddenly her ear twitched.
"What's wrong?"
"...'Tis nothing."
The lie was so obvious it wasn't even worth laughing at.
"Still—"
"Yes?"
"You're certain that all this talk centers around that, aye?"
"Yes."
"In which case, you yet have choices you can make. Isn't that so?" Holo, amused, directed this last question to Col.
While Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak, Col watched the pair's exchange from the outside.
He was the obvious person to identify a third option.
"Er, ah, um..."
"Come now, be bold!"
Holo slapped his back, and Col finally summoned the courage to speak.
"E-er, couldn't Miss Holo simply...go and take the narwhal...?"
"...Huh?" was all Lawrence could manage in the face of Col's words.
The thought simply hadn't occurred to him.
"If there's a fight over some object, then the conflict hinges on the item itself. I'm sure Miss Holo can traverse the river in a single bound, so she should be able to steal it easily."
Col was, after all, from the deep mountains.
He spoke these flattering words with total sincerity, and Holo's ears twitched happily.
It was probably true that stealing the narwhal was in and of itself not a difficult thing for Holo.
No matter how well guarded it might be, in the face of the fangs of Holo's true form, the guards' armor would scarcely be more than the paper armor in which children clad themselves for playacting. Despite all the plotting and planning of Eve, Kieman, and the other monstrous powers at play, it would be no great trouble for her to take the thing and run.
Lawrence scratched his head and spoke. "Look here, even if we do that, the question becomes what to do next. Even if the theft were simple, you would certainly be witnessed. At which point, the idea that anyone would then buy the narwhal from us is completely absurd. That much is—"
"I'm well aware of that. But"—Holo interrupted, her eyes narrowing with her smile and her head cocking to one side—"you must have seen how simple this all truly is. Have you not?"
"...Huh?"
"You haven't, then? The matter that has you so terrified you can think only of escape, I will tear open with my fangs and claws. To have my companion in such a dither over this is quite a problem. So much more the fool me for choosing you as such, I suppose."
***
Lawrence looked back at Holo; he was at a loss for words.
He had to admit she was right.
When it came to deception in the service of profit, Holo was capable of brazen cunning that would cause even the most jaded town merchant to grow dizzy.


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

Input:
As a lonely wandering merchant, how many times had the seal on that letter come to his aid? It was a magical emblem, both a powerful weapon and a sturdy shield.
He'd never doubted its might.
Which was why—now that its power was turned against him—he could see no alternative but escape.
"So that vixen and your pack are fighting over the same prize, then? What might that be?"
"Huh? Oh yes. It's what you say you saw on the south side."
"Surely not the bones?"
Lawrence and his party had come to the seaside town of Kerube, far from Holo's homelands of Yoitsu, in search of a certain item—the bones of what was said to be a wolf-god worshipped in the mountains of Roef.
Holo had discovered the possibility that the bones would be used in an unforgivable manner by the Church, while Col wanted to learn the truth of his homeland's god.
Holo's tone was thus amused when she asked the question, but her eyes were not smiling.
The object in question was not so very far from the wolf bones as goods went, which was why the powers that be were in such a frenzy to acquire it.
"Something similar. A beast from the northern seas—a magical creature with a single horn. Eating its flesh grants long life, and a tincture of its horn cures disease. It's called a narwhal. Evidently one of the north side's fishing boats hauled one up in its nets."
Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak as though his words were a pleasant side dish to go with her wine, but suddenly her ear twitched.
"What's wrong?"
"...'Tis nothing."
The lie was so obvious it wasn't even worth laughing at.
"Still—"
"Yes?"
"You're certain that all this talk centers around that, aye?"
"Yes."
"In which case, you yet have choices you can make. Isn't that so?" Holo, amused, directed this last question to Col.
While Holo had been listening to Lawrence speak, Col watched the pair's exchange from the outside.
He was the obvious person to identify a third option.
"Er, ah, um..."
"Come now, be bold!"
Holo slapped his back, and Col finally summoned the courage to speak.
"E-er, couldn't Miss Holo simply...go and take the narwhal...?"
"...Huh?" was all Lawrence could manage in the face of Col's words.
The thought simply hadn't occurred to him.
"If there's a fight over some object, then the conflict hinges on the item itself. I'm sure Miss Holo can traverse the river in a single bound, so she should be able to steal it easily."
Col was, after all, from the deep mountains.
He spoke these flattering words with total sincerity, and Holo's ears twitched happily.
It was probably true that stealing the narwhal was in and of itself not a difficult thing for Holo.
No matter how well guarded it might be, in the face of the fangs of Holo's true form, the guards' armor would scarcely be more than the paper armor in which children clad themselves for playacting. Despite all the plotting and planning of Eve, Kieman, and the other monstrous powers at play, it would be no great trouble for her to take the thing and run.
Lawrence scratched his head and spoke. "Look here, even if we do that, the question becomes what to do next. Even if the theft were simple, you would certainly be witnessed. At which point, the idea that anyone would then buy the narwhal from us is completely absurd. That much is—"
"I'm well aware of that. But"—Holo interrupted, her eyes narrowing with her smile and her head cocking to one side—"you must have seen how simple this all truly is. Have you not?"
"...Huh?"
"You haven't, then? The matter that has you so terrified you can think only of escape, I will tear open with my fangs and claws. To have my companion in such a dither over this is quite a problem. So much more the fool me for choosing you as such, I suppose."
***
Lawrence looked back at Holo; he was at a loss for words.
He had to admit she was right.
When it came to deception in the service of profit, Holo was capable of brazen cunning that would cause even the most jaded town merchant to grow dizzy.

Output:
"Heh-heh-heh. You see, Col, my boy? This is what comes of letting a tempest in a teacup get the better of one."
Col, of course, looked abashed out of consideration for Lawrence, who would have preferred the boy to simply laugh at him.
Col regarded Lawrence with an almost girlish gaze on his upturned face, which Lawrence smiled at nervously. The boy returned the smile in evident relief.
The blood drained back out of his face, and Lawrence's cramped field of view seemed to expand.
"Always have your weapons at the ready," his master had once told him.
And next to him stood Holo, the Wisewolf of the forest of Yoitsu. There was a certain august dignity to her tail-swishing, wine-swilling form.
"Also, if you escape this current predicament, will it not be easier to find out more about the bones?"
"...Eve knows that, too. She told me that if I would cooperate with her, she would hand over what she knows about the bones. In other words, she's saying she wouldn't mind finding out what Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company supposedly knows."
Holo raised a single eyebrow, though whether the expression was one of anger or amusement was unclear. "Hmph. The vixen is cooler headed than you are. Listen here—is our search for the bones so very different from the trouble you seem to have found yourself mixed up in now?"
Lawrence found himself speechless at the analogy.
Holo, of course, did not hold back. "When we began our pursuit of the bones, you warned me of this. But now you flinch away at the prospect of a similar challenge? At this rate..." The force drained from her angry face, and she looked away. "...I will begin to doubt your words."
These last words were spoken sadly, and she glanced up at the merchant briefly.
Lawrence knew he was being provoked. But it was only Holo's way of trying to motivate him.
"Did you not tell me you were that rare male good for more than talk?" she now inquired teasingly, her head tilted.
She beamed at Lawrence's sour face.
Pointless inflexibility was of no use in business, but that didn't mean he could always be perfectly rational.
Lawrence grumbled, his gaze downcast. "I suppose we can take escape out of the discussion."
"Aye. So now you can relax those shoulders of yours."
"Because you'll be here should the worst happen?"
If that was what it took to discover the truth behind the wolf bones, Holo would unsheathe her teeth and claws without a thought. But that was far from an ideal solution as far as Lawrence was concerned.
In response to his question, Holo shook her head and replied with a calm smile. "No, because you've no need to worry over who to sell this sea beast to once it's between my jaws. Just as the boy Col said, if the pups begin fighting over it, I should think the easiest solution would be for me to simply eat it."
"...I suppose it's not surprising I didn't think of that myself."
"That merely proves how little you were considering me," Holo replied. Standing between them, Col's gaze flicked back and forth from one to the other.
"Obviously," Lawrence shot back, which made Col look suddenly a bit worried.
Lawrence had to admit that from the outside, it must have appeared as though they were bickering. But Col soon seemed to understand otherwise. In contrast to her expression, Holo's tail was wagging.
"Hmph. You say such things, and yet how many times have you needed my aid? There's no great difference between the third and fourth time."
As much as he could, Lawrence wanted to avoid relying on Holo. Yet in spite of what he might say, she had delivered him from danger many times.
So while it might have seemed as though consequences were the only thing that mattered, lately Lawrence had began to suspect otherwise.
Which was why even as he admitted his reliance on her power, Lawrence faced those ears that could detect any lie and spoke.
"You are indeed the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, but that's not why I chose you as my traveling companion."
Holo ducked her head and giggled.


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

Input:
"Heh-heh-heh. You see, Col, my boy? This is what comes of letting a tempest in a teacup get the better of one."
Col, of course, looked abashed out of consideration for Lawrence, who would have preferred the boy to simply laugh at him.
Col regarded Lawrence with an almost girlish gaze on his upturned face, which Lawrence smiled at nervously. The boy returned the smile in evident relief.
The blood drained back out of his face, and Lawrence's cramped field of view seemed to expand.
"Always have your weapons at the ready," his master had once told him.
And next to him stood Holo, the Wisewolf of the forest of Yoitsu. There was a certain august dignity to her tail-swishing, wine-swilling form.
"Also, if you escape this current predicament, will it not be easier to find out more about the bones?"
"...Eve knows that, too. She told me that if I would cooperate with her, she would hand over what she knows about the bones. In other words, she's saying she wouldn't mind finding out what Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company supposedly knows."
Holo raised a single eyebrow, though whether the expression was one of anger or amusement was unclear. "Hmph. The vixen is cooler headed than you are. Listen here—is our search for the bones so very different from the trouble you seem to have found yourself mixed up in now?"
Lawrence found himself speechless at the analogy.
Holo, of course, did not hold back. "When we began our pursuit of the bones, you warned me of this. But now you flinch away at the prospect of a similar challenge? At this rate..." The force drained from her angry face, and she looked away. "...I will begin to doubt your words."
These last words were spoken sadly, and she glanced up at the merchant briefly.
Lawrence knew he was being provoked. But it was only Holo's way of trying to motivate him.
"Did you not tell me you were that rare male good for more than talk?" she now inquired teasingly, her head tilted.
She beamed at Lawrence's sour face.
Pointless inflexibility was of no use in business, but that didn't mean he could always be perfectly rational.
Lawrence grumbled, his gaze downcast. "I suppose we can take escape out of the discussion."
"Aye. So now you can relax those shoulders of yours."
"Because you'll be here should the worst happen?"
If that was what it took to discover the truth behind the wolf bones, Holo would unsheathe her teeth and claws without a thought. But that was far from an ideal solution as far as Lawrence was concerned.
In response to his question, Holo shook her head and replied with a calm smile. "No, because you've no need to worry over who to sell this sea beast to once it's between my jaws. Just as the boy Col said, if the pups begin fighting over it, I should think the easiest solution would be for me to simply eat it."
"...I suppose it's not surprising I didn't think of that myself."
"That merely proves how little you were considering me," Holo replied. Standing between them, Col's gaze flicked back and forth from one to the other.
"Obviously," Lawrence shot back, which made Col look suddenly a bit worried.
Lawrence had to admit that from the outside, it must have appeared as though they were bickering. But Col soon seemed to understand otherwise. In contrast to her expression, Holo's tail was wagging.
"Hmph. You say such things, and yet how many times have you needed my aid? There's no great difference between the third and fourth time."
As much as he could, Lawrence wanted to avoid relying on Holo. Yet in spite of what he might say, she had delivered him from danger many times.
So while it might have seemed as though consequences were the only thing that mattered, lately Lawrence had began to suspect otherwise.
Which was why even as he admitted his reliance on her power, Lawrence faced those ears that could detect any lie and spoke.
"You are indeed the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, but that's not why I chose you as my traveling companion."
Holo ducked her head and giggled.

Output:
"So you'll show me such cleverness as to impress even a wisewolf, then?"
"Of course," responded Lawrence shortly. "Of course."
Had he been alone, he would have fled—or let himself be used.
But there was a reason why a smile crept into a corner of Lawrence's mouth.
Truly? Was it truly wise to stand and face this mad situation?
He could not help but inwardly put the question to himself.
The inn at which the three were staying was one to which Eve had originally introduced them, and Kieman now knew its whereabouts as well. Thus, having decided not to flee the city, the only thing Lawrence could do was wait to be contacted.
If he were noticed attempting to collect information on his own, either by Kieman or Eve, it would not leave a very favorable impression.
Given that Lawrence's opponents held the advantage in both information and power, the only strategy available to him was to watch their movements and try to outwit them after the fact.
Intellectually, he was well aware of this, so he also knew that Holo's tactic of dozing on the bed with her tail flicking lazily to and fro was much better than his own, which involved sitting on a chair as his leg bounced restlessly.
Nevertheless, he sat on that chair by the window and gazed outside, unable to calm himself.
In this season, the cloudy skies darkened even the brightest of moods—all the more so when one was already gloomy.
Lawrence knew full well how small he was in the face of the schemes and greed of Eve and of Kieman. All he could do was sigh.
Holo had compelled him to stay in town rather than run, but having made the decision, he felt no better about it.
This was no one-on-one negotiation between merchants; this was a battle of many against many.
Never get involved with a business you don't understand, his master had taught him, and yet here Lawrence was, breaking that very rule. He sighed again and surveyed their room in the inn.
There on the bed, Holo lay sleeping, having lost her battle with the demon slumber.
Col sat on the floor beside the bed, attending to his belt after having removed it from his waist. A short while earlier, he had borrowed a needle from the innkeeper, and Lawrence had assumed he intended to repair his belt, but it seemed the opposite was true.
Col pulled threads from his belt and tied them together to form a single long thread. He then threaded the needle with the result. Finally, he removed his shabby, beat-up coat, whereupon Lawrence finally understood his aim.
Lawrence stood and walked over to him. "If you're going to resort to that, soon you won't have any belt left at all."
Col had begun stitching away with the improvised thread, the needle moving adroitly through the fabric. The boy was practiced at this.
At Lawrence's words, Col looked up with an abashed smile but without ceasing his repairs.
The thread was quite short, so the mending was quickly finished.
From the perspective of a merchant who made his living by judging the quality of goods, such mending amounted to little more than a prayer to God.
"I'll buy you some thread, at the very least."
"Huh? No...I'm quite all right. See?" Col bit off the end of the thread and then held the coat up proudly.
Had Holo been watching, she probably would have smacked his head lightly and wagged her tail.
But Lawrence was not Holo, and so he simply put his hand on the boy's head. "I have yet to pay you back for explaining the mystery of the copper coins to me. Church scholars are paid for their lectures, are they not?"
Col seemed to want to reply, but appearing to weigh Lawrence's goodwill against his own modesty, he must have concluded that accepting the goodwill was the better choice.
He smiled sheepishly. "Would it really be all right?"
"Naturally. Shall we find a tailor and buy some thread? Wouldn't it be better to be able to do your mending sooner rather than later?"


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

Input:
"So you'll show me such cleverness as to impress even a wisewolf, then?"
"Of course," responded Lawrence shortly. "Of course."
Had he been alone, he would have fled—or let himself be used.
But there was a reason why a smile crept into a corner of Lawrence's mouth.
Truly? Was it truly wise to stand and face this mad situation?
He could not help but inwardly put the question to himself.
The inn at which the three were staying was one to which Eve had originally introduced them, and Kieman now knew its whereabouts as well. Thus, having decided not to flee the city, the only thing Lawrence could do was wait to be contacted.
If he were noticed attempting to collect information on his own, either by Kieman or Eve, it would not leave a very favorable impression.
Given that Lawrence's opponents held the advantage in both information and power, the only strategy available to him was to watch their movements and try to outwit them after the fact.
Intellectually, he was well aware of this, so he also knew that Holo's tactic of dozing on the bed with her tail flicking lazily to and fro was much better than his own, which involved sitting on a chair as his leg bounced restlessly.
Nevertheless, he sat on that chair by the window and gazed outside, unable to calm himself.
In this season, the cloudy skies darkened even the brightest of moods—all the more so when one was already gloomy.
Lawrence knew full well how small he was in the face of the schemes and greed of Eve and of Kieman. All he could do was sigh.
Holo had compelled him to stay in town rather than run, but having made the decision, he felt no better about it.
This was no one-on-one negotiation between merchants; this was a battle of many against many.
Never get involved with a business you don't understand, his master had taught him, and yet here Lawrence was, breaking that very rule. He sighed again and surveyed their room in the inn.
There on the bed, Holo lay sleeping, having lost her battle with the demon slumber.
Col sat on the floor beside the bed, attending to his belt after having removed it from his waist. A short while earlier, he had borrowed a needle from the innkeeper, and Lawrence had assumed he intended to repair his belt, but it seemed the opposite was true.
Col pulled threads from his belt and tied them together to form a single long thread. He then threaded the needle with the result. Finally, he removed his shabby, beat-up coat, whereupon Lawrence finally understood his aim.
Lawrence stood and walked over to him. "If you're going to resort to that, soon you won't have any belt left at all."
Col had begun stitching away with the improvised thread, the needle moving adroitly through the fabric. The boy was practiced at this.
At Lawrence's words, Col looked up with an abashed smile but without ceasing his repairs.
The thread was quite short, so the mending was quickly finished.
From the perspective of a merchant who made his living by judging the quality of goods, such mending amounted to little more than a prayer to God.
"I'll buy you some thread, at the very least."
"Huh? No...I'm quite all right. See?" Col bit off the end of the thread and then held the coat up proudly.
Had Holo been watching, she probably would have smacked his head lightly and wagged her tail.
But Lawrence was not Holo, and so he simply put his hand on the boy's head. "I have yet to pay you back for explaining the mystery of the copper coins to me. Church scholars are paid for their lectures, are they not?"
Col seemed to want to reply, but appearing to weigh Lawrence's goodwill against his own modesty, he must have concluded that accepting the goodwill was the better choice.
He smiled sheepishly. "Would it really be all right?"
"Naturally. Shall we find a tailor and buy some thread? Wouldn't it be better to be able to do your mending sooner rather than later?"

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