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

Input:
For all its simplicity, the weighing was sensitive work, and it took forty-five loads to finish. Pepper varied depending on its origin, but a load of Lawrence's product balanced roughly with a single counterweight should have been worth about one gold lumione piece. Based on his most current knowledge of exchange rates, one lumione equaled thirty-four and two-thirds trenni, the silver coin commonly used in the port town of Pazzio. Forty-five loads at that rate would come to 1,560 trenni.
Lawrence had bought the pepper for a thousand trenni, so that meant a profit of 560 pieces. The spice trade was indeed delicious. Of course, gold and jewels—the raw materials for luxury goods—could fetch two or three times their initial purchase price, so this was a meager gain in comparison, but for a traveling merchant who spent his days crossing the plains, it was profit enough. Some merchants would haul the lowest-quality oats on their very backs, destroying themselves as they crossed mountains, only to turn a 10 percent profit when they sold in the town.
Indeed, compared with that, clearing more than five hundred silver pieces by moving a single light bag of pepper was almost too savory to believe.
Lawrence grinned as he packed the pepper back into its leather sack.
"Right, that's forty-five measures' worth, then. Where does this pepper come from?"
"It was imported from Ramapata, in the kingdom of Leedon. Here's the certificate of import from the Milone Company."
"From Ramapata, then? It's come quite a ways, then—I can scarcely imagine the place," mused the master, narrowing his eyes and smiling as he took the certificate parchment Lawrence offered him.
Town merchants often spent their entire lives in the villages of their birth. There were some who would go on pilgrimages after their retirement, but there was no time for such things when they were actively working.
However, even Lawrence the traveling merchant knew little of the kingdom of Leedon, save that it was famous for its spices. To get there from Pazzio, one had to take the river all the way to the coast and then board a long-distance sailing ship south across two separate seas, a journey of roughly two months.
The language was different, of course, and apparently it was hot like summertime year-round in Leedon, and the population was permanently tanned near black from the time they were born.
It seemed unbelievable, but there was spice, gold, silver, and iron that supposedly came from the place, and the Milone Company vouched for the origin of the pepper, which the certificate claimed was Ramapata.
Was it a real country?
"The certificate seems authentic," said the master.
The kinds of bills of exchange, trusted promissory notes and contracts that passed through town merchants were huge. Supposedly they could even recognize bills signed by small companies in faraway lands to say nothing of huge organizations that had their main branches in a foreign country.
Recognizing the seal of a company as large as Milone would be but the work of a moment. Signatures were important, but the soul of a contract was the seal.
"Right, then, it'll be one lumione per measure. Will this do?"
"Can you tell me what the lumione is trading at currently?" Lawrence asked suddenly, even though he had some grasp of the coin's market value.
Gold coin was generally used as an accounting currency—that is to say it was the basis for calculating the values of the many other currencies in the world. Calculations were performed in gold currency and then remitted in other, more convenient forms. Of course, in that situation the market value of the currency in question became an issue.
Lawrence was suddenly very nervous.
"Mr. Lawrence, as I recall, you follow the path of Saint Metrogius in business, like your teacher did, correct?"
"Yes. Perhaps it's the protection of Saint Metrogius that's kept my travels safe and my business sound."
"So I presume that you'll take payment in trenni silver?"

Output:
Thus it was that the currency they used at a given time was quite predictable.
For the master of the Latparron Trading Company to come to that conclusion so quickly meant he was very shrewd merchant indeed.
"In trenni silver," he continued, "the current rate is thirty-two and five-sixths."
The rate was lower than Lawrence remembered. But given this town's importance as a trade center, it was within the realm he could allow.
In places where currencies from many different places all converged, the exchange rate with respect to accounting currencies tended to be lower.
Lawrence did the calculations in his head at lightning speed. At this rate he'd get 1,477 trenni for his pepper.
The amount was less than he'd anticipated but a tolerable price nonetheless. It would be a huge step toward realizing the dream of opening his own shop.
He took a deep breath and extended his right hand toward the master. "That price will be fine, sir."
The master's face broke into a smile, and he accepted Lawrence's hand. A merchant's spirits were never better than at the moment of a successful contract.
This was one such moment.
"Ughh...," Holo cut in with a listless voice.
"Whatever is the matter?" asked the master worriedly as he and Lawrence looked to Holo, who leaned unsteadily against the wall.
In that instant, Lawrence remembered the sale of his furs to the Milone Company and grew suddenly nervous.
The master of the Latparron Company was a canny merchant who managed his shop alone. Trying to outwit him was likely to end badly. Having Holo around didn't mean they had to try to trick their trading partners every single time.
Even as Lawrence thought this, he stopped short. Holo was acting strangely.
"U-ugh...I'm, I'm dizzy..."
Holo held on to the cup as her unsteadiness grew worse, and the water seemed like it would spill out at any moment.
The master walked up to her, looking worried as he stilled the cup and supported her slim shoulders.
"Are you recovered?"
"...A bit. Thank you," said Holo weakly, finally standing straight again with the master's help.
She looked every bit the fasting nun suffering from a bout of anemia. Even someone who wasn't as devout as the master would have wanted to help her, but Lawrence noticed something strange.
Underneath Holo's hood, her wolf ears had not drooped very much.
"A long journey will tire even the strongest man," declared the master.
Holo nodded slightly, then spoke. "I may well be tired from the travel. My vision seemed to tilt suddenly..."
"That won't do. Ah, I have it—shall I bring some goat milk? It's fresh from yesterday's milking," he said, offering her a chair and briskly going to fetch the milk without waiting for her response.
Lawrence was surely the only one who had any premonition that Holo was going to do something else when she did not sit in the offered chair and instead went to set the iron cup on the table.
"Sir," she said to the master, whose back was turned. "I believe I am yet a bit dizzy."
"Heavens. Shall I call a physician?" asked the master, looking over his shoulder with heartfelt concern.
Underneath the hood, Holo's expression was anything but the weak dizziness she feigned.
"Look here. It's tilting before my very eyes," said Holo, taking the cup and spilling a few drops on the surface of the table—whereupon it flowed smoothly to Holo's right and off the edge of the table, dripping to the floor with a small plip sound.
"Wha—!" Lawrence walked swiftly to the table and put his hand on the scales.
It was the same set of scales he'd so carefully gauged the accuracy of earlier. If they were even slightly off, it would mean a large loss for him, and so he'd checked the scales' accuracy carefully—but they aligned perfectly with the direction in which the water had flowed off the table.
This led to a single conclusion.


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

Input:
Thus it was that the currency they used at a given time was quite predictable.
For the master of the Latparron Trading Company to come to that conclusion so quickly meant he was very shrewd merchant indeed.
"In trenni silver," he continued, "the current rate is thirty-two and five-sixths."
The rate was lower than Lawrence remembered. But given this town's importance as a trade center, it was within the realm he could allow.
In places where currencies from many different places all converged, the exchange rate with respect to accounting currencies tended to be lower.
Lawrence did the calculations in his head at lightning speed. At this rate he'd get 1,477 trenni for his pepper.
The amount was less than he'd anticipated but a tolerable price nonetheless. It would be a huge step toward realizing the dream of opening his own shop.
He took a deep breath and extended his right hand toward the master. "That price will be fine, sir."
The master's face broke into a smile, and he accepted Lawrence's hand. A merchant's spirits were never better than at the moment of a successful contract.
This was one such moment.
"Ughh...," Holo cut in with a listless voice.
"Whatever is the matter?" asked the master worriedly as he and Lawrence looked to Holo, who leaned unsteadily against the wall.
In that instant, Lawrence remembered the sale of his furs to the Milone Company and grew suddenly nervous.
The master of the Latparron Company was a canny merchant who managed his shop alone. Trying to outwit him was likely to end badly. Having Holo around didn't mean they had to try to trick their trading partners every single time.
Even as Lawrence thought this, he stopped short. Holo was acting strangely.
"U-ugh...I'm, I'm dizzy..."
Holo held on to the cup as her unsteadiness grew worse, and the water seemed like it would spill out at any moment.
The master walked up to her, looking worried as he stilled the cup and supported her slim shoulders.
"Are you recovered?"
"...A bit. Thank you," said Holo weakly, finally standing straight again with the master's help.
She looked every bit the fasting nun suffering from a bout of anemia. Even someone who wasn't as devout as the master would have wanted to help her, but Lawrence noticed something strange.
Underneath Holo's hood, her wolf ears had not drooped very much.
"A long journey will tire even the strongest man," declared the master.
Holo nodded slightly, then spoke. "I may well be tired from the travel. My vision seemed to tilt suddenly..."
"That won't do. Ah, I have it—shall I bring some goat milk? It's fresh from yesterday's milking," he said, offering her a chair and briskly going to fetch the milk without waiting for her response.
Lawrence was surely the only one who had any premonition that Holo was going to do something else when she did not sit in the offered chair and instead went to set the iron cup on the table.
"Sir," she said to the master, whose back was turned. "I believe I am yet a bit dizzy."
"Heavens. Shall I call a physician?" asked the master, looking over his shoulder with heartfelt concern.
Underneath the hood, Holo's expression was anything but the weak dizziness she feigned.
"Look here. It's tilting before my very eyes," said Holo, taking the cup and spilling a few drops on the surface of the table—whereupon it flowed smoothly to Holo's right and off the edge of the table, dripping to the floor with a small plip sound.
"Wha—!" Lawrence walked swiftly to the table and put his hand on the scales.
It was the same set of scales he'd so carefully gauged the accuracy of earlier. If they were even slightly off, it would mean a large loss for him, and so he'd checked the scales' accuracy carefully—but they aligned perfectly with the direction in which the water had flowed off the table.
This led to a single conclusion.

Output:
The scales tipped this way and that owing to the sudden movement, but when set back on the table, their movement slowed and eventually stopped.
According to the gradations, the scales balanced perfectly—despite the incline of the table. If they had been accurate, the reading would have been skewed by the slant of the table.
The scales had clearly been tampered with.
"So, then, did I drink water, or was it wine?" inquired Holo. She looked back to the master—as did Lawrence.
The master's expression froze, and sweat appeared on his forehead.
"What I drank was wine. Was it not?" Holo's voice sounded so amused that even her smile was practically audible.
The master's face paled to a nearly deathly pallor. If the fact that he used fraudulent scales to swindle merchants was made public in a god-fearing town like this, all his assets would be forfeit, and he would face instant bankruptcy.
"There's a saying that 'no one drinks less than the master of a full tavern'—this must be what that means," said Lawrence.
The stricken master was like a cornered hare, unable to cry out even as a predator's fangs pierced its skin.
Lawrence walked back toward the master with an easy smile.
"The secret to prosperity is being the only sober one, eh?"
So much sweat beaded up on the master's forehead that you could trace a picture in it.
"It seems I'm drunk on the same wine as my companion. I doubt we'll be able to remember anything we've seen or heard in here...though in exchange I may be a bit unreasonable."
"Wh-what do you...?" The master's face shivered in fear.
Taking easy revenge here would be failing as a merchant, though.
There wasn't even a mote of anger at being deceived in Lawrence's mind.
All he thought of were cold calculations of how much more profit he could extract from his opponent's fear.
This was an unexpected opportunity.
Lawrence drew near the man, his expression still smiling, his tone still every bit the negotiating merchant.
"Let's see...I think the amount we agreed to, plus the amount you were going to gain, plus, oh...you'll let us buy double on margin."
Lawrence was demanding to be allowed to buy more than he had the cash to secure. It's self-evident that the more money a merchant can invest, the greater profit he can realize. If he can buy two silver pieces' worth of goods with a single piece, he will double his profit, pure and simple.
But to buy two pieces' worth with one piece, he would obviously need collateral. Since the merchant is essentially borrowing money, the lender has the right to demand collateral from the borrower.
However, the master was in no position to make such a demand, which is why Lawrence pushed such an unreasonable position. It's a third-rate merchant that doesn't take advantage of weakness.
"I, uh, er, I can't possibly..."
"You can't do it? Oh, that's a shame...I'm feeling significantly less drunk."
The master's face was so wet it seemed to nearly melt as the sweat mixed with tears.
His face a mask of despair, he slumped, defeated.
"As for the goods, let's see. Given the amount, perhaps some high-quality arms? Surely you have lots of goods bound for Ruvinheigen."
"...Arms, you say?"
The master looked up, seeming to see a glimmer of hope. He had probably been assuming that Lawrence never planned to pay him back.
"They're always a good bet for turning a tidy profit, and I can get the loan back to you quickly that way. What say you?"
Ruvinheigen served as a resupply base for the efforts to subjugate the pagans. Any items that served in the fighting flew off the shelves year-round. It was difficult to sustain depreciation losses when selling such goods.
Since Lawrence would be able to purchase double the normal amount on margin, he'd have double the insurance against depreciation, which made weapons a good choice for a margin buy.
The master's face shifted to that of a shrewdly calculating merchant. "Weapons...you say?"


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

Input:
The scales tipped this way and that owing to the sudden movement, but when set back on the table, their movement slowed and eventually stopped.
According to the gradations, the scales balanced perfectly—despite the incline of the table. If they had been accurate, the reading would have been skewed by the slant of the table.
The scales had clearly been tampered with.
"So, then, did I drink water, or was it wine?" inquired Holo. She looked back to the master—as did Lawrence.
The master's expression froze, and sweat appeared on his forehead.
"What I drank was wine. Was it not?" Holo's voice sounded so amused that even her smile was practically audible.
The master's face paled to a nearly deathly pallor. If the fact that he used fraudulent scales to swindle merchants was made public in a god-fearing town like this, all his assets would be forfeit, and he would face instant bankruptcy.
"There's a saying that 'no one drinks less than the master of a full tavern'—this must be what that means," said Lawrence.
The stricken master was like a cornered hare, unable to cry out even as a predator's fangs pierced its skin.
Lawrence walked back toward the master with an easy smile.
"The secret to prosperity is being the only sober one, eh?"
So much sweat beaded up on the master's forehead that you could trace a picture in it.
"It seems I'm drunk on the same wine as my companion. I doubt we'll be able to remember anything we've seen or heard in here...though in exchange I may be a bit unreasonable."
"Wh-what do you...?" The master's face shivered in fear.
Taking easy revenge here would be failing as a merchant, though.
There wasn't even a mote of anger at being deceived in Lawrence's mind.
All he thought of were cold calculations of how much more profit he could extract from his opponent's fear.
This was an unexpected opportunity.
Lawrence drew near the man, his expression still smiling, his tone still every bit the negotiating merchant.
"Let's see...I think the amount we agreed to, plus the amount you were going to gain, plus, oh...you'll let us buy double on margin."
Lawrence was demanding to be allowed to buy more than he had the cash to secure. It's self-evident that the more money a merchant can invest, the greater profit he can realize. If he can buy two silver pieces' worth of goods with a single piece, he will double his profit, pure and simple.
But to buy two pieces' worth with one piece, he would obviously need collateral. Since the merchant is essentially borrowing money, the lender has the right to demand collateral from the borrower.
However, the master was in no position to make such a demand, which is why Lawrence pushed such an unreasonable position. It's a third-rate merchant that doesn't take advantage of weakness.
"I, uh, er, I can't possibly..."
"You can't do it? Oh, that's a shame...I'm feeling significantly less drunk."
The master's face was so wet it seemed to nearly melt as the sweat mixed with tears.
His face a mask of despair, he slumped, defeated.
"As for the goods, let's see. Given the amount, perhaps some high-quality arms? Surely you have lots of goods bound for Ruvinheigen."
"...Arms, you say?"
The master looked up, seeming to see a glimmer of hope. He had probably been assuming that Lawrence never planned to pay him back.
"They're always a good bet for turning a tidy profit, and I can get the loan back to you quickly that way. What say you?"
Ruvinheigen served as a resupply base for the efforts to subjugate the pagans. Any items that served in the fighting flew off the shelves year-round. It was difficult to sustain depreciation losses when selling such goods.
Since Lawrence would be able to purchase double the normal amount on margin, he'd have double the insurance against depreciation, which made weapons a good choice for a margin buy.
The master's face shifted to that of a shrewdly calculating merchant. "Weapons...you say?"

Output:
In short, after Lawrence sold the weapons he bought with money borrowed from the Latparron Company to another company in Ruvinheigen, he wouldn't have to come all the way back to Poroson to return the money.
In certain situations, the give-and-take of money could be accomplished with nothing more than entries in a ledger.
It was the great triumph of the merchant class.
"What say you?"
At times, the business smile of a merchant could be an intimidating thing. Even among such smiles, Lawrence's was exceptionally intimidating as he cornered the manager of the Latparron Trading Company, who—unable to refuse—finally nodded.
"My thanks! I'd like to arrange for the goods immediately, as I hope to depart for Ruvinheigen very soon."
"U-understood. Er, as for the valuation..."
"I shall leave that to you. After all, I trust in God."
The master's lip twisted bitterly in what must have been a pained smile. It was unavoidable that he'd appraise the weapons rather cheaply.
"Are you two quite finished?" said Holo, guessing that the strong-armed "negotiation" was over. The master gave a sigh of dismay. It seemed there was still one person who wanted a say.
"I daresay my drunkenness is lifting as well," said Holo, her head tilted charmingly to one side—but she must've seemed like a devil to the master.
"Some fine wine and mutton would do much for my spirits. Make sure the mutton's from the flanks now!"
The master could only nod his head at her casual imperiousness.
"Make it quick now," said Holo, partially in jest, but hearing these words from the girl who adroitly saw through his doctored scales, the master turned around and scampered from the room like a pig smacked on the rear.
One couldn't help but feel the master was overdoing it a bit, but if his fraud was made public, he would be ruined. To that extent, a little bowing and scraping was a small price to pay.
Lawrence would have taken a huge hit to his own assets if the trick hadn't been noticed.
"Hee-hee. Poor little man," said Holo with a delighted chuckle that made her seem even nastier.
"You've certainly a keen eye, as usual. I didn't notice a thing."
"I'm beautiful and my tail fur is sleek, but my eyes and ears are also keen. I noticed the moment we entered the room. I suppose he would've been sly enough to fool the likes of you, though," said Holo, sighing and waving her hand dismissively.
Lawrence would have been happier if she'd said something sooner, but the reality was he had not noticed the fraud, and the fact that Holo did had turned a great loss into a great gain.
It wouldn't kill him to be polite.
"I've nothing to say for myself," Lawrence admitted. Holo's eyes twinkled at his unexpected meekness.
"Oh ho! I see you've matured a bit."
Lawrence—indeed having nothing to say for himself—could only smile, chagrined.
There is something known as "spring fever."
It is most common during the winter in places far from rivers or seas. The streams freeze, and people survive on salted meat and stale bread day in and day out. It's not that no vegetables can survive the frost, but rather that such produce is better sold than eaten. Eating the produce does nothing for the chill, but with the money gained from its sale, firewood can be bought and furnaces stoked.
Eating naught but meat and drinking nothing but wine takes its toll, and by spring, many have broken out in rashes.
This is spring fever, and it is proof of neglect for one's health.
Naturally it is well-known that resisting the temptation of meat and the comfort of wine will spare one this fate. Eat vegetables and meat only in moderation—such will the Church's sermon be every Sunday.
Thus come spring, the sufferers of spring fever will often find themselves being terribly scolded by the priest. Gluttony is, after all, one of the seven deadly sins—whether or not the glutton knows it.
Lawrence heaved a long-suffering sigh at Holo's overindulgence.


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

Input:
In short, after Lawrence sold the weapons he bought with money borrowed from the Latparron Company to another company in Ruvinheigen, he wouldn't have to come all the way back to Poroson to return the money.
In certain situations, the give-and-take of money could be accomplished with nothing more than entries in a ledger.
It was the great triumph of the merchant class.
"What say you?"
At times, the business smile of a merchant could be an intimidating thing. Even among such smiles, Lawrence's was exceptionally intimidating as he cornered the manager of the Latparron Trading Company, who—unable to refuse—finally nodded.
"My thanks! I'd like to arrange for the goods immediately, as I hope to depart for Ruvinheigen very soon."
"U-understood. Er, as for the valuation..."
"I shall leave that to you. After all, I trust in God."
The master's lip twisted bitterly in what must have been a pained smile. It was unavoidable that he'd appraise the weapons rather cheaply.
"Are you two quite finished?" said Holo, guessing that the strong-armed "negotiation" was over. The master gave a sigh of dismay. It seemed there was still one person who wanted a say.
"I daresay my drunkenness is lifting as well," said Holo, her head tilted charmingly to one side—but she must've seemed like a devil to the master.
"Some fine wine and mutton would do much for my spirits. Make sure the mutton's from the flanks now!"
The master could only nod his head at her casual imperiousness.
"Make it quick now," said Holo, partially in jest, but hearing these words from the girl who adroitly saw through his doctored scales, the master turned around and scampered from the room like a pig smacked on the rear.
One couldn't help but feel the master was overdoing it a bit, but if his fraud was made public, he would be ruined. To that extent, a little bowing and scraping was a small price to pay.
Lawrence would have taken a huge hit to his own assets if the trick hadn't been noticed.
"Hee-hee. Poor little man," said Holo with a delighted chuckle that made her seem even nastier.
"You've certainly a keen eye, as usual. I didn't notice a thing."
"I'm beautiful and my tail fur is sleek, but my eyes and ears are also keen. I noticed the moment we entered the room. I suppose he would've been sly enough to fool the likes of you, though," said Holo, sighing and waving her hand dismissively.
Lawrence would have been happier if she'd said something sooner, but the reality was he had not noticed the fraud, and the fact that Holo did had turned a great loss into a great gain.
It wouldn't kill him to be polite.
"I've nothing to say for myself," Lawrence admitted. Holo's eyes twinkled at his unexpected meekness.
"Oh ho! I see you've matured a bit."
Lawrence—indeed having nothing to say for himself—could only smile, chagrined.
There is something known as "spring fever."
It is most common during the winter in places far from rivers or seas. The streams freeze, and people survive on salted meat and stale bread day in and day out. It's not that no vegetables can survive the frost, but rather that such produce is better sold than eaten. Eating the produce does nothing for the chill, but with the money gained from its sale, firewood can be bought and furnaces stoked.
Eating naught but meat and drinking nothing but wine takes its toll, and by spring, many have broken out in rashes.
This is spring fever, and it is proof of neglect for one's health.
Naturally it is well-known that resisting the temptation of meat and the comfort of wine will spare one this fate. Eat vegetables and meat only in moderation—such will the Church's sermon be every Sunday.
Thus come spring, the sufferers of spring fever will often find themselves being terribly scolded by the priest. Gluttony is, after all, one of the seven deadly sins—whether or not the glutton knows it.
Lawrence heaved a long-suffering sigh at Holo's overindulgence.

Output:
Not only was it all free of charge, but after eating and drinking her fill, she could curl up in the wagon bed for a nap.
Even the most extravagant merchant will, as a matter of course, think ahead and limit his excesses, but not Holo.
Tapping her feet in delight, she had eaten and drunk with glee and only stopped to take a break.
Lawrence reckoned that if it had been their travel provisions, she would've eaten three weeks' worth—and she drank so much wine he began to wonder where it was going.
If she had turned around and sold the food she extorted from the Latparron master, she would have put a big dent in her own debt to Lawrence.
This was yet another reason Lawrence was stunned.
"Now, then, I daresay I'll take a nap," said Holo.
Lawrence didn't even bother to look at the source of this exemplar of depravity.
In addition to squeezing some fine wine and mutton from the Latparron Company master, Lawrence had obtained a large load of arms at a very reasonable price. He and his companion left the town of Poroson without so much as waiting for the noontime bells. Little time had passed since then, and the sun was just now overhead.
With the clear skies and warm sunshine, it was perfect weather for a midday drink, followed by a nap.
Owing to the load, the wagon bed was in a state of disarray, but with wine enough in her, Holo probably wouldn't mind.
The trade road that they took to Ruvinheigen was full of steep inclines and sudden turns just outside of Poroson but smoothed out and gave a grand view as it slowly descended.
The road meandered on.
It was well traveled, which made for a firmly packed surface with holes being quickly filled.
Even though her "bed" was packed full of sword hilts, Holo was easily able to nap on top of them and pass the afternoon away since the road was so smooth.
Then there was Lawrence, who had drunk no wine and spent the day looking at a horse's backside, reins in hand. His jealousy made it easy for him not to look at Holo.
"Mm, I ought to tend to my tail," said Holo—her tail the only thing she was diligent about. She pulled it out of her robes without a hint of concern.
Not that any was warranted; the expansive view meant there was no danger of being surprised by an approaching traveler.
Holo began to comb her tail, occasionally picking a flea out or pausing to lick the fur clean.
The care she took with her tail was visible in her silent, single-minded attention to the job.
She worked from the very base of the tail, which was covered in dark brown fur, finally reaching its fluffy white tip, and then suddenly looked up. "Oh, that's right."
"...What?"
"When we get to the next town, I want oil."
"...Oil?"
"Mm. I've heard it would be good to use on my tail."
Lawrence turned away from Holo wordlessly.
"So will you buy some for me?" asked Holo with a charming smile, her head tilted.
Even a poor man would be hard-pressed to resist that smile, but Lawrence only glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Figures larger than her smile danced before his eyes—specifically, the debt she owed him.
"The clothes you're wearing now, plus the extras, the comb, the travel fee, the wine and food—have you added them all up? There's the head tax when we enter a town, as well. Surely you're not telling me you can't do sums," said Lawrence, mimicking Holo's tone, but Holo still smiled.
"I can surely do sums, but I'm still better at subtraction," she proclaimed, then laughed at some private amusement.
Lawrence knew she was hiding some kind of comeback, but her manner was strange. Perhaps she was still drunk.
He glanced at the wineskins that lay in the wagon bed. They'd taken the Latparron master for five skins of wine, two of which were now empty.
It wasn't impossible that she was drunk.
"Well, perhaps you should try adding up all you've used. If you're such a wise wolf, you should be able to work out my answer from that."
"All right, I shall!" said Holo with a smile and a cheerful nod.


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

Input:
Not only was it all free of charge, but after eating and drinking her fill, she could curl up in the wagon bed for a nap.
Even the most extravagant merchant will, as a matter of course, think ahead and limit his excesses, but not Holo.
Tapping her feet in delight, she had eaten and drunk with glee and only stopped to take a break.
Lawrence reckoned that if it had been their travel provisions, she would've eaten three weeks' worth—and she drank so much wine he began to wonder where it was going.
If she had turned around and sold the food she extorted from the Latparron master, she would have put a big dent in her own debt to Lawrence.
This was yet another reason Lawrence was stunned.
"Now, then, I daresay I'll take a nap," said Holo.
Lawrence didn't even bother to look at the source of this exemplar of depravity.
In addition to squeezing some fine wine and mutton from the Latparron Company master, Lawrence had obtained a large load of arms at a very reasonable price. He and his companion left the town of Poroson without so much as waiting for the noontime bells. Little time had passed since then, and the sun was just now overhead.
With the clear skies and warm sunshine, it was perfect weather for a midday drink, followed by a nap.
Owing to the load, the wagon bed was in a state of disarray, but with wine enough in her, Holo probably wouldn't mind.
The trade road that they took to Ruvinheigen was full of steep inclines and sudden turns just outside of Poroson but smoothed out and gave a grand view as it slowly descended.
The road meandered on.
It was well traveled, which made for a firmly packed surface with holes being quickly filled.
Even though her "bed" was packed full of sword hilts, Holo was easily able to nap on top of them and pass the afternoon away since the road was so smooth.
Then there was Lawrence, who had drunk no wine and spent the day looking at a horse's backside, reins in hand. His jealousy made it easy for him not to look at Holo.
"Mm, I ought to tend to my tail," said Holo—her tail the only thing she was diligent about. She pulled it out of her robes without a hint of concern.
Not that any was warranted; the expansive view meant there was no danger of being surprised by an approaching traveler.
Holo began to comb her tail, occasionally picking a flea out or pausing to lick the fur clean.
The care she took with her tail was visible in her silent, single-minded attention to the job.
She worked from the very base of the tail, which was covered in dark brown fur, finally reaching its fluffy white tip, and then suddenly looked up. "Oh, that's right."
"...What?"
"When we get to the next town, I want oil."
"...Oil?"
"Mm. I've heard it would be good to use on my tail."
Lawrence turned away from Holo wordlessly.
"So will you buy some for me?" asked Holo with a charming smile, her head tilted.
Even a poor man would be hard-pressed to resist that smile, but Lawrence only glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Figures larger than her smile danced before his eyes—specifically, the debt she owed him.
"The clothes you're wearing now, plus the extras, the comb, the travel fee, the wine and food—have you added them all up? There's the head tax when we enter a town, as well. Surely you're not telling me you can't do sums," said Lawrence, mimicking Holo's tone, but Holo still smiled.
"I can surely do sums, but I'm still better at subtraction," she proclaimed, then laughed at some private amusement.
Lawrence knew she was hiding some kind of comeback, but her manner was strange. Perhaps she was still drunk.
He glanced at the wineskins that lay in the wagon bed. They'd taken the Latparron master for five skins of wine, two of which were now empty.
It wasn't impossible that she was drunk.
"Well, perhaps you should try adding up all you've used. If you're such a wise wolf, you should be able to work out my answer from that."
"All right, I shall!" said Holo with a smile and a cheerful nod.

Output:
"You will definitely buy me some," she said.
Lawrence cast his eyes askance to spy her grinning at him. Maybe she really was drunk. It was a very charming smile.
"Just look what happens to the wits of the proud wisewolf when she has too much wine," muttered Lawrence to himself. Holo's head flopped from one shoulder to the other.
If she fell drunkenly out of the wagon, she could be injured. Lawrence reached out to steady her slim shoulder, and Holo grabbed his hand with a quickness that was nothing short of wolflike.
Surprised, Lawrence looked into her eyes. She was neither drunk nor laughing.
"After all, it's thanks to me that your wagon bed was so cheaply filled. You'll pull in a tidy profit."
Her charm had vanished.
"O-on what basis—"
"I won't have you belittle me. Surely you don't think I missed you strong-arming that master? I've a sharp mind, keen eyes, aye; but don't forget, my ears are good, too. I couldn't have missed your negotiations." Holo grinned unpleasantly, showing her fangs. "So you'll buy some oil for me, yes?"
In fact, Lawrence had taken advantage of the master's weakness during his negotiations, and it was also true that things had gone just as Lawrence had hoped.
He cursed himself for being so obviously pleased upon signing the contract. Once it was known that someone was going to make a lot of money, they were obvious targets for sponging and wheedling—it was human nature.
"Uh, er, well, how much do you think you're in debt to me for? It's one hundred forty silver! Have you any idea how much money that is? And now you think I'm going to spend more on you?"
"Oh? What, you want me to pay you back?" Holo looked at Lawrence with an expression of mild surprise, as if to say she could pay him back at any time she chose.
There are none in this world who don't wish to be paid back money they have lent. Lawrence gritted his teeth and glared at Holo, enunciating his response very carefully. "Of. Course. I. Do."
If Holo paid back what she owed in a lump sum, he'd be able to fill his wagon bed with more and better goods, which would mean improved profits. More investment equaled greater return—it was at the very center of a merchant's world.
Yet Holo's expression changed completely at Lawrence's words. She regarded him coldly, as if to say, "Oh, that's how it is."
Lawrence faltered at the completely unexpected change.
"So that's how you've been thinking," said Holo.
"Wh-what do you—"
Lawrence would have finished with mean, but Holo's rapid-fire response cut him off.
"Well, I suppose if I pay my debts, that makes me a free wolf. I see. I'll just pay you back, then."
Hearing these words, Lawrence understood what Holo wanted to say.
Some days earlier, during a disturbance in Pazzio, Lawrence had seen Holo's wolf form and retreated in fear. Deeply hurt, Holo tried to leave Lawrence, but Lawrence stopped her by saying he would follow her all the way to the north country to collect the money she owed him for destroying his clothes.
"Come what may, you'll pay me back," he had said. "So leaving me now won't get you anything."
Holo stayed with Lawrence based on the reasoning that making him come all the way out to the north country would be a bother, and Lawrence had thought that the business about debt repayment was just a pretense for both of them.
No, he'd believed it.
He believed that even if she were to repay the debt, she would still wish for him to travel with her to the forests of the north country—though her bashfulness would prevent her from admitting it.
And Holo had now turned the tables on him. She used the fact that the debt was his own pretense against him.
A single word jumped into his mind.
Unfair. Holo was truly unfair.
"In that case, I'll just give your money back and hie myself north, shall I? I wonder how Paro and Myuri are faring."
Holo looked away, purposefully letting a small sigh escape.


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

Input:
"You will definitely buy me some," she said.
Lawrence cast his eyes askance to spy her grinning at him. Maybe she really was drunk. It was a very charming smile.
"Just look what happens to the wits of the proud wisewolf when she has too much wine," muttered Lawrence to himself. Holo's head flopped from one shoulder to the other.
If she fell drunkenly out of the wagon, she could be injured. Lawrence reached out to steady her slim shoulder, and Holo grabbed his hand with a quickness that was nothing short of wolflike.
Surprised, Lawrence looked into her eyes. She was neither drunk nor laughing.
"After all, it's thanks to me that your wagon bed was so cheaply filled. You'll pull in a tidy profit."
Her charm had vanished.
"O-on what basis—"
"I won't have you belittle me. Surely you don't think I missed you strong-arming that master? I've a sharp mind, keen eyes, aye; but don't forget, my ears are good, too. I couldn't have missed your negotiations." Holo grinned unpleasantly, showing her fangs. "So you'll buy some oil for me, yes?"
In fact, Lawrence had taken advantage of the master's weakness during his negotiations, and it was also true that things had gone just as Lawrence had hoped.
He cursed himself for being so obviously pleased upon signing the contract. Once it was known that someone was going to make a lot of money, they were obvious targets for sponging and wheedling—it was human nature.
"Uh, er, well, how much do you think you're in debt to me for? It's one hundred forty silver! Have you any idea how much money that is? And now you think I'm going to spend more on you?"
"Oh? What, you want me to pay you back?" Holo looked at Lawrence with an expression of mild surprise, as if to say she could pay him back at any time she chose.
There are none in this world who don't wish to be paid back money they have lent. Lawrence gritted his teeth and glared at Holo, enunciating his response very carefully. "Of. Course. I. Do."
If Holo paid back what she owed in a lump sum, he'd be able to fill his wagon bed with more and better goods, which would mean improved profits. More investment equaled greater return—it was at the very center of a merchant's world.
Yet Holo's expression changed completely at Lawrence's words. She regarded him coldly, as if to say, "Oh, that's how it is."
Lawrence faltered at the completely unexpected change.
"So that's how you've been thinking," said Holo.
"Wh-what do you—"
Lawrence would have finished with mean, but Holo's rapid-fire response cut him off.
"Well, I suppose if I pay my debts, that makes me a free wolf. I see. I'll just pay you back, then."
Hearing these words, Lawrence understood what Holo wanted to say.
Some days earlier, during a disturbance in Pazzio, Lawrence had seen Holo's wolf form and retreated in fear. Deeply hurt, Holo tried to leave Lawrence, but Lawrence stopped her by saying he would follow her all the way to the north country to collect the money she owed him for destroying his clothes.
"Come what may, you'll pay me back," he had said. "So leaving me now won't get you anything."
Holo stayed with Lawrence based on the reasoning that making him come all the way out to the north country would be a bother, and Lawrence had thought that the business about debt repayment was just a pretense for both of them.
No, he'd believed it.
He believed that even if she were to repay the debt, she would still wish for him to travel with her to the forests of the north country—though her bashfulness would prevent her from admitting it.
And Holo had now turned the tables on him. She used the fact that the debt was his own pretense against him.
A single word jumped into his mind.
Unfair. Holo was truly unfair.
"In that case, I'll just give your money back and hie myself north, shall I? I wonder how Paro and Myuri are faring."
Holo looked away, purposefully letting a small sigh escape.

Output:
He imagined that if he was stubborn and demanded that she pay him now and go on her merry way, Holo would really do it—and that wasn't what Lawrence wanted. This was where he'd have to cry uncle.
There really wasn't anything charming about Holo.
Lawrence stared at her, furiously trying to think of a comeback, but Holo looked away from him obstinately.
Some time passed.
"...We didn't decide the due date for repayment. Just as long as I get it by the time we arrive in the north country. Will that do?"
Some part of Lawrence was still stubborn. He simply couldn't let the cheeky wolf girl have everything she wanted. This was as far as he could give in.
Holo seemed to understand that. She slowly turned toward him and smiled, satisfied.
"I should think I'll be able to repay you by the time we've arrived in the north country," she said purposefully, drawing near him. "And it's my intention to pay you back with interest, which means the more I borrow, the greater profit for you. So you'll do it for me, yes?"
Holo's eyes met Lawrence's as she looked up at him.
They were beautiful eyes with red-brown irises.
"The oil, you mean?"
"Yes. Make it part of my debt, but please—buy it for me, won't you?"
The plea was strangely rational, and Lawrence couldn't think of a good rejoinder.
All he could do was slump his head sideways as if exhausted.
"My thanks," said Holo, brushing against Lawrence's arm like a cat asking for affection—which wasn't a bad feeling at all.
He knew that was what Holo wanted, and it was an unavoidable part of his long, lonely time as a traveling merchant.
"Still, you really did haggle him down, didn't you?" asked Holo, attending once more to her tail as she reclined against Lawrence.
This particular wolf could sense lies, so Lawrence didn't bother lying and answered truthfully. "Rather he put himself in the position of having no choice but to be haggled down."
Yet the interest rate on the arms was not good. The most profitable method would be to import the materials and then assemble and sell the weapons. As far as the business of selling completed weapons went, simply by going somewhere with a constant demand for large amounts of weaponry and turning a fair profit, the amount by which the goods could be bargained down was limited.
Lawrence headed to Ruvinheigen for that very same fair profit.
"How much?"
"What's the point of asking that?"
Holo glanced up at Lawrence from her position leaning against him and then looked quickly away.
At which point Lawrence more or less understood.
Despite her forcing of the oil issue, she was actually quite concerned about his profits.
"What? I was just worried about sponging off a traveling merchant, who is barely scraping by. That is all."
Lawrence tapped Holo's head lightly at the nasty comment.
"Weapons are the best-selling product in Ruvinheigen, but many merchants bring them into the city. Thus, the interest rate on them drops, and the amount I could bargain him down is limited."
"But you bought so much, you'll yet come out ahead, yes?"
The wagon bed was not full, strictly speaking, but it was well laden. The goods were solid, and though the interest was low, in comparison to Lawrence's initial investment, the actual amount of material was nice indeed. The fact that he was getting double the material for his investment was icing on the cake. Like the saying goes, "One raindrop raises the sea," and so Lawrence's gain might be second only to his profit from the pepper.
In truth, the proceeds would be enough to buy more apples than would fit in the wagon bed, to say nothing of oil, but if Lawrence told Holo that there was no telling what demands she might make—so he held his tongue.
Holo, blissfully ignorant, simply groomed her tail.
Looking at her, Lawrence couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.
"Well, I should think we'll make enough to pay for some oil, anyway," he said.
Holo nodded, apparently satisfied.


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

Input:
He imagined that if he was stubborn and demanded that she pay him now and go on her merry way, Holo would really do it—and that wasn't what Lawrence wanted. This was where he'd have to cry uncle.
There really wasn't anything charming about Holo.
Lawrence stared at her, furiously trying to think of a comeback, but Holo looked away from him obstinately.
Some time passed.
"...We didn't decide the due date for repayment. Just as long as I get it by the time we arrive in the north country. Will that do?"
Some part of Lawrence was still stubborn. He simply couldn't let the cheeky wolf girl have everything she wanted. This was as far as he could give in.
Holo seemed to understand that. She slowly turned toward him and smiled, satisfied.
"I should think I'll be able to repay you by the time we've arrived in the north country," she said purposefully, drawing near him. "And it's my intention to pay you back with interest, which means the more I borrow, the greater profit for you. So you'll do it for me, yes?"
Holo's eyes met Lawrence's as she looked up at him.
They were beautiful eyes with red-brown irises.
"The oil, you mean?"
"Yes. Make it part of my debt, but please—buy it for me, won't you?"
The plea was strangely rational, and Lawrence couldn't think of a good rejoinder.
All he could do was slump his head sideways as if exhausted.
"My thanks," said Holo, brushing against Lawrence's arm like a cat asking for affection—which wasn't a bad feeling at all.
He knew that was what Holo wanted, and it was an unavoidable part of his long, lonely time as a traveling merchant.
"Still, you really did haggle him down, didn't you?" asked Holo, attending once more to her tail as she reclined against Lawrence.
This particular wolf could sense lies, so Lawrence didn't bother lying and answered truthfully. "Rather he put himself in the position of having no choice but to be haggled down."
Yet the interest rate on the arms was not good. The most profitable method would be to import the materials and then assemble and sell the weapons. As far as the business of selling completed weapons went, simply by going somewhere with a constant demand for large amounts of weaponry and turning a fair profit, the amount by which the goods could be bargained down was limited.
Lawrence headed to Ruvinheigen for that very same fair profit.
"How much?"
"What's the point of asking that?"
Holo glanced up at Lawrence from her position leaning against him and then looked quickly away.
At which point Lawrence more or less understood.
Despite her forcing of the oil issue, she was actually quite concerned about his profits.
"What? I was just worried about sponging off a traveling merchant, who is barely scraping by. That is all."
Lawrence tapped Holo's head lightly at the nasty comment.
"Weapons are the best-selling product in Ruvinheigen, but many merchants bring them into the city. Thus, the interest rate on them drops, and the amount I could bargain him down is limited."
"But you bought so much, you'll yet come out ahead, yes?"
The wagon bed was not full, strictly speaking, but it was well laden. The goods were solid, and though the interest was low, in comparison to Lawrence's initial investment, the actual amount of material was nice indeed. The fact that he was getting double the material for his investment was icing on the cake. Like the saying goes, "One raindrop raises the sea," and so Lawrence's gain might be second only to his profit from the pepper.
In truth, the proceeds would be enough to buy more apples than would fit in the wagon bed, to say nothing of oil, but if Lawrence told Holo that there was no telling what demands she might make—so he held his tongue.
Holo, blissfully ignorant, simply groomed her tail.
Looking at her, Lawrence couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.
"Well, I should think we'll make enough to pay for some oil, anyway," he said.
Holo nodded, apparently satisfied.

Output:
"You've eaten it?"
"I'm not like you, you glutton. I'm talking about the profit."
"Hmph. Well, why don't you load up on spice again, then?"
"The prices in Ruvinheigen and Poroson aren't so very different. I'd take a loss after paying the tariff."
"Then give it up, I say," said Holo shortly, nibbling the tip of her tail.
"If I could get a rate about like what I'd normally get for spices or maybe a little more, I'd make enough to open a shop."
Saving enough money to open his own shop was Lawrence's dream. Though he'd made a sizable amount in the kerfuffle in Pazzio, the goal remained distant.
"Surely there's something," said Holo. "Say...jewels or gold. Those are sure things, no?"
"Ruvinheigen is not a profitable place for such things really."
Perhaps catching a bit of fluff in her nose, Holo gave a small sneeze as she licked her fur. "...Why's that?" she asked.
"The tariff is too high. It's protectionism. They levy serious taxes on all but a certain group of merchants. There's no business to be had there."
Towns that weakened the foundation of commerce with this kind of protectionism were not uncommon.
But Ruvinheigen's policy was aimed at turning monopolistic profits. Gold brought to the Church in Ruvinheigen could be stamped with the Church's holy seal, and such gold would bring safe travels, happiness in the future, or triumph in battle, all by the grace of God. There was even gold for guaranteeing happiness in the afterlife, and it all sold for exorbitant prices.
The Church Council that controlled Ruvinheigen colluded with the merchants under their power to preserve the monopoly, so taxes on gold entering the city were terrifying and punishments for smuggling harsh.
"Huh."
"If we somehow smuggled gold in, we'd be able to sell it for, oh, ten times what we paid. But the danger rises with the profit, so I've no choice but to make money bit by bit."
Lawrence shrugged, thinking wistfully of the end of his road.
In a city like Ruvinheigen, there were plenty of merchants who made in a single day what Lawrence had spent his entire life striving for.
It seemed unfair—no, worse than unfair, it was downright strange.
"Oh truly?" came Holo's unexpected reply.
"Do you have some idea otherwise?"
This was Holo the Wisewolf, after all. She might have come up with some unheard-of scheme.
Lawrence turned to her expectantly. Pausing in her grooming for a moment, Holo looked up at him.
"Why don't you just sneak it in?"
If she was always this foolish it would be charming, thought Lawrence to himself upon hearing her suggestion.
"If that were possible, everyone would do it."
"Oh, so you can't do that."
"When tariffs go up, smuggling does, too—it's a basic principle. Their inspections are very thorough."
"Surely a small amount wouldn't be found."
"If they do find anything, they'll cut off your hand at the very least. It's not worth the risk. It would be worth it if you were bringing a larger amount in...but that's impossible."
Holo smoothed her tail fur and nodded, satisfied with her grooming. Lawrence couldn't see much difference, but apparently Holo had her standards.
"Mm, 'tis true," she said. "Well, your business is steady enough. It is well as long as you make steady coin."
"Right you are, but I seem to have a certain companion bent on wasting that same steady coin."
Holo yawned, pretending not to hear the gibe as she squirmed to hide her tail. She rubbed her eyes and crept back to her place in the wagon bed.
Lawrence had not been terribly serious. He stopped following Holo's movements and looked to the road ahead. Trying to talk to her once she decided to sleep was an exercise in futility, so he abandoned the prospect.
For a while he could hear the clattering of weapons as she pushed them aside to make a place to nap, but soon silence returned, and he heard her sigh contentedly.
Lawrence glanced back and saw her curled into a ball, just like a dog or cat. He couldn't help smiling.


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

Input:
"You've eaten it?"
"I'm not like you, you glutton. I'm talking about the profit."
"Hmph. Well, why don't you load up on spice again, then?"
"The prices in Ruvinheigen and Poroson aren't so very different. I'd take a loss after paying the tariff."
"Then give it up, I say," said Holo shortly, nibbling the tip of her tail.
"If I could get a rate about like what I'd normally get for spices or maybe a little more, I'd make enough to open a shop."
Saving enough money to open his own shop was Lawrence's dream. Though he'd made a sizable amount in the kerfuffle in Pazzio, the goal remained distant.
"Surely there's something," said Holo. "Say...jewels or gold. Those are sure things, no?"
"Ruvinheigen is not a profitable place for such things really."
Perhaps catching a bit of fluff in her nose, Holo gave a small sneeze as she licked her fur. "...Why's that?" she asked.
"The tariff is too high. It's protectionism. They levy serious taxes on all but a certain group of merchants. There's no business to be had there."
Towns that weakened the foundation of commerce with this kind of protectionism were not uncommon.
But Ruvinheigen's policy was aimed at turning monopolistic profits. Gold brought to the Church in Ruvinheigen could be stamped with the Church's holy seal, and such gold would bring safe travels, happiness in the future, or triumph in battle, all by the grace of God. There was even gold for guaranteeing happiness in the afterlife, and it all sold for exorbitant prices.
The Church Council that controlled Ruvinheigen colluded with the merchants under their power to preserve the monopoly, so taxes on gold entering the city were terrifying and punishments for smuggling harsh.
"Huh."
"If we somehow smuggled gold in, we'd be able to sell it for, oh, ten times what we paid. But the danger rises with the profit, so I've no choice but to make money bit by bit."
Lawrence shrugged, thinking wistfully of the end of his road.
In a city like Ruvinheigen, there were plenty of merchants who made in a single day what Lawrence had spent his entire life striving for.
It seemed unfair—no, worse than unfair, it was downright strange.
"Oh truly?" came Holo's unexpected reply.
"Do you have some idea otherwise?"
This was Holo the Wisewolf, after all. She might have come up with some unheard-of scheme.
Lawrence turned to her expectantly. Pausing in her grooming for a moment, Holo looked up at him.
"Why don't you just sneak it in?"
If she was always this foolish it would be charming, thought Lawrence to himself upon hearing her suggestion.
"If that were possible, everyone would do it."
"Oh, so you can't do that."
"When tariffs go up, smuggling does, too—it's a basic principle. Their inspections are very thorough."
"Surely a small amount wouldn't be found."
"If they do find anything, they'll cut off your hand at the very least. It's not worth the risk. It would be worth it if you were bringing a larger amount in...but that's impossible."
Holo smoothed her tail fur and nodded, satisfied with her grooming. Lawrence couldn't see much difference, but apparently Holo had her standards.
"Mm, 'tis true," she said. "Well, your business is steady enough. It is well as long as you make steady coin."
"Right you are, but I seem to have a certain companion bent on wasting that same steady coin."
Holo yawned, pretending not to hear the gibe as she squirmed to hide her tail. She rubbed her eyes and crept back to her place in the wagon bed.
Lawrence had not been terribly serious. He stopped following Holo's movements and looked to the road ahead. Trying to talk to her once she decided to sleep was an exercise in futility, so he abandoned the prospect.
For a while he could hear the clattering of weapons as she pushed them aside to make a place to nap, but soon silence returned, and he heard her sigh contentedly.
Lawrence glanced back and saw her curled into a ball, just like a dog or cat. He couldn't help smiling.

Output:
As Lawrence pondered this, Holo suddenly spoke.
"I forgot to say it earlier, but the wine we got from the master—I've no intention of drinking it all myself. This evening we must drink together—and enjoy that mutton, too."
Mildly surprised, Lawrence turned to look at her, but she was already curled back up.
But this time, she was smiling.
Lawrence looked ahead, holding the reins, and drove the horse carefully, so as not to shake the wagon any more than he had to.
***
The rolling hills ended, replaced by undulations in the landscape that barely rated the term, which made for easy traveling.
Lawrence hadn't yet shaken the effects of the previous night's wine, so the easy road suited him just fine.
With a companion to partake of the fine wine and food, he had overindulged. If he'd had to navigate a mountain trail in his current state, he would likely have tumbled straight to the bottom of the valley.
But here, there wasn't so much as a river, let alone a valley, so Lawrence could safely leave the horse to simply follow the road.
Occasionally he would nod off for a brief moment, and in the wagon bed Holo was sound asleep, snoring away without a care in the world. Every time Lawrence started awake, he thanked God for such peaceful times.
After passing many quiet hours this way, Holo finally stirred herself awake just past noon. She rubbed her eyes, her face still clearly bearing the marks of whatever she had slept against.
She hauled herself up to the driver's seat and gulped some water from a water-skin, a blank expression on her face. Happily, she did not seem hungover. Had she been, Lawrence might have had to stop the wagon—otherwise, she might wind up vomiting in the wagon bed, an outcome that didn't bear thinking about.
"'Tis good weather today," said Holo.
"It is."
The two exchanged lazy pleasantries, then both yawned hugely.
The road that they were on was one of the major northbound trade routes, so they encountered many other travelers while following it. Among them were merchants flying flags of countries so far away that Lawrence only knew of them from import receipts. Holo saw the flags and seemed to think they were simply advertising the merchant's home country, but generally the small flags were displayed so that merchants from the same nation could identify a fellow countryman should he pass. Generally such encounters would give way to exchanges of news from the old country. Arriving in a foreign land, where the language, food, and dress were all different, could lead even a constantly traveling merchant to homesickness.
Lawrence explained this to Holo, who then gazed at the small flags of passing merchants, deep in thought.
Holo had left her homeland hundreds of years ago, and her desire to speak to someone from her birthplace was stronger than any traveling merchant's homesickness.
"Ah, well, I'll be back soon enough, eh?" she declared with a smile, but there was a touch of loneliness in it.
It seemed to Lawrence that he should have some response to this, but none came to mind, and as he drove the horse along the road, the afternoon sun made the thought hazy in his mind.
There was nothing finer than warm sunlight in the cool season.
But the stillness was soon shattered.
Just as Lawrence and Holo started to doze off in the driver's seat, Holo spoke abruptly.
"Hey."
"...Mm?"
"There is a group of people."
"What'd you say?" Lawrence asked as he scrambled to grab the reins, his sleepiness gone in an instant. He narrowed his eyes and looked ahead into the distance.
Despite the slight undulations in the road, the generally flat terrain offered a good view ahead.
But Lawrence saw nothing. He looked to Holo, who now stood, staring forward intently.
"They are certainly there. I wonder what happened."
"Are they carrying weapons?"


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

Input:
As Lawrence pondered this, Holo suddenly spoke.
"I forgot to say it earlier, but the wine we got from the master—I've no intention of drinking it all myself. This evening we must drink together—and enjoy that mutton, too."
Mildly surprised, Lawrence turned to look at her, but she was already curled back up.
But this time, she was smiling.
Lawrence looked ahead, holding the reins, and drove the horse carefully, so as not to shake the wagon any more than he had to.
***
The rolling hills ended, replaced by undulations in the landscape that barely rated the term, which made for easy traveling.
Lawrence hadn't yet shaken the effects of the previous night's wine, so the easy road suited him just fine.
With a companion to partake of the fine wine and food, he had overindulged. If he'd had to navigate a mountain trail in his current state, he would likely have tumbled straight to the bottom of the valley.
But here, there wasn't so much as a river, let alone a valley, so Lawrence could safely leave the horse to simply follow the road.
Occasionally he would nod off for a brief moment, and in the wagon bed Holo was sound asleep, snoring away without a care in the world. Every time Lawrence started awake, he thanked God for such peaceful times.
After passing many quiet hours this way, Holo finally stirred herself awake just past noon. She rubbed her eyes, her face still clearly bearing the marks of whatever she had slept against.
She hauled herself up to the driver's seat and gulped some water from a water-skin, a blank expression on her face. Happily, she did not seem hungover. Had she been, Lawrence might have had to stop the wagon—otherwise, she might wind up vomiting in the wagon bed, an outcome that didn't bear thinking about.
"'Tis good weather today," said Holo.
"It is."
The two exchanged lazy pleasantries, then both yawned hugely.
The road that they were on was one of the major northbound trade routes, so they encountered many other travelers while following it. Among them were merchants flying flags of countries so far away that Lawrence only knew of them from import receipts. Holo saw the flags and seemed to think they were simply advertising the merchant's home country, but generally the small flags were displayed so that merchants from the same nation could identify a fellow countryman should he pass. Generally such encounters would give way to exchanges of news from the old country. Arriving in a foreign land, where the language, food, and dress were all different, could lead even a constantly traveling merchant to homesickness.
Lawrence explained this to Holo, who then gazed at the small flags of passing merchants, deep in thought.
Holo had left her homeland hundreds of years ago, and her desire to speak to someone from her birthplace was stronger than any traveling merchant's homesickness.
"Ah, well, I'll be back soon enough, eh?" she declared with a smile, but there was a touch of loneliness in it.
It seemed to Lawrence that he should have some response to this, but none came to mind, and as he drove the horse along the road, the afternoon sun made the thought hazy in his mind.
There was nothing finer than warm sunlight in the cool season.
But the stillness was soon shattered.
Just as Lawrence and Holo started to doze off in the driver's seat, Holo spoke abruptly.
"Hey."
"...Mm?"
"There is a group of people."
"What'd you say?" Lawrence asked as he scrambled to grab the reins, his sleepiness gone in an instant. He narrowed his eyes and looked ahead into the distance.
Despite the slight undulations in the road, the generally flat terrain offered a good view ahead.
But Lawrence saw nothing. He looked to Holo, who now stood, staring forward intently.
"They are certainly there. I wonder what happened."
"Are they carrying weapons?"

Output:
But there were other, less-pleasant possibilities.
They could be bandits, rogues, hungry soldiers returning home, or mercenaries. Encountering returning soldiers or mercenaries might mean giving up everything he owned—if he was lucky. His life could well be forfeit.
What would happen to his female companion went without saying.
"I...do not see any weapons. They don't seem to be annoying soldiers, at any rate."
"You've encountered soldiers?" asked Lawrence, slightly surprised.
"They had long, sharp spears, which made them quite a bother. Though they couldn't keep up with my wits," Holo said so proudly that Lawrence didn't venture to ask what had happened to the unlucky mercenaries.
"There's...no one about, yes?" Holo looked around quickly, then pulled her hood back, and exposed her wolf ears.
Her pointed ears were the same brown as her tail, and like her tail, they expressed her mood so effectively that they were a good way to tell when she was (for example) lying.
Those same ears pricked forward intently.
Holo's attitude was every inch the wolf searching out its prey.
Lawrence had encountered such a wolf once before.
It had been a dark, windy night. Lawrence had been following a road across a plain, and by the time he heard the first howl, he was already within the wolves' territory. Baying sounded from every direction, when he realized he was surrounded, and the horse that pulled his wagon was half-mad with fear.
Just then, Lawrence caught sight of a single wolf.
Its posture was fearless as it had looked straight at Lawrence, its ears so keenly fixed upon him that he was sure it could hear him breathe. He had known that forcing his way free from the wolves' snare would be impossible, so he immediately took out a leather bag and, making sure the wolf could see, dumped all the meat, bread, and other provisions he had onto the ground. Then he urged his horse onward, the wolf watching him all the while.
He could feel the beast's gaze on his back for some time, but eventually the howls seemed to cluster around the food he had dropped, and he escaped unscathed.
Lawrence would never forget that wolf. And at this moment, Holo looked just like it.
"Hmm...seems there's some kind of to-do," said Holo, bringing Lawrence out of his reverie; he shook his head to clear it.
"Is there a market I've forgotten about?" said Lawrence. Roadside meetings to exchange information and advance trade were not unheard of.
"I wonder. It doesn't smell of a fight. That's for sure."
Holo pulled her hood back over her head and sat down.
Lawrence was preoccupied with driving the cart as she regarded him with an expression that said, "So what shall we do?"
The merchant was deep in thought as he visualized a map of the area.
Lawrence knew he had to get the arms in his wagon bed to the Church city of Ruvinheigen. He had signed a contract to that effect with a company in Ruvinheigen. If he detoured now, he would have to backtrack along a very roundabout route—the only other roads were so poor as to be passable only on foot.
"You don't smell any blood, do you?" asked Lawrence.
Holo shook her head decisively.
"Let's go, then. The detour is a bit too far."
"And even if they should be mercenaries, you have me," said Holo, pulling out the leather pouch filled with wheat that hung from her neck. A better bodyguard didn't exist.
Lawrence smiled trustingly as he drove the horse down the road.
"So, to detour around here, take the path of Saint Lyne?"
"No, it's surely shorter to take the road that crosses the plains to Mitzheim."
"Anyway, is that talk about the mercenary band true?"
"Buy this cloth, won't you? I'll take salt in exchange."
"Anyone here speak Parcian? I think this guy's got a problem!"
Lawrence and Holo caught snatches of conversation as they reached the throng of people.
Some of the people stopped in the road were recognizable at a glance as merchants. Others were artisans from different lands on pilgrimages to improve their skills.


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

Input:
But there were other, less-pleasant possibilities.
They could be bandits, rogues, hungry soldiers returning home, or mercenaries. Encountering returning soldiers or mercenaries might mean giving up everything he owned—if he was lucky. His life could well be forfeit.
What would happen to his female companion went without saying.
"I...do not see any weapons. They don't seem to be annoying soldiers, at any rate."
"You've encountered soldiers?" asked Lawrence, slightly surprised.
"They had long, sharp spears, which made them quite a bother. Though they couldn't keep up with my wits," Holo said so proudly that Lawrence didn't venture to ask what had happened to the unlucky mercenaries.
"There's...no one about, yes?" Holo looked around quickly, then pulled her hood back, and exposed her wolf ears.
Her pointed ears were the same brown as her tail, and like her tail, they expressed her mood so effectively that they were a good way to tell when she was (for example) lying.
Those same ears pricked forward intently.
Holo's attitude was every inch the wolf searching out its prey.
Lawrence had encountered such a wolf once before.
It had been a dark, windy night. Lawrence had been following a road across a plain, and by the time he heard the first howl, he was already within the wolves' territory. Baying sounded from every direction, when he realized he was surrounded, and the horse that pulled his wagon was half-mad with fear.
Just then, Lawrence caught sight of a single wolf.
Its posture was fearless as it had looked straight at Lawrence, its ears so keenly fixed upon him that he was sure it could hear him breathe. He had known that forcing his way free from the wolves' snare would be impossible, so he immediately took out a leather bag and, making sure the wolf could see, dumped all the meat, bread, and other provisions he had onto the ground. Then he urged his horse onward, the wolf watching him all the while.
He could feel the beast's gaze on his back for some time, but eventually the howls seemed to cluster around the food he had dropped, and he escaped unscathed.
Lawrence would never forget that wolf. And at this moment, Holo looked just like it.
"Hmm...seems there's some kind of to-do," said Holo, bringing Lawrence out of his reverie; he shook his head to clear it.
"Is there a market I've forgotten about?" said Lawrence. Roadside meetings to exchange information and advance trade were not unheard of.
"I wonder. It doesn't smell of a fight. That's for sure."
Holo pulled her hood back over her head and sat down.
Lawrence was preoccupied with driving the cart as she regarded him with an expression that said, "So what shall we do?"
The merchant was deep in thought as he visualized a map of the area.
Lawrence knew he had to get the arms in his wagon bed to the Church city of Ruvinheigen. He had signed a contract to that effect with a company in Ruvinheigen. If he detoured now, he would have to backtrack along a very roundabout route—the only other roads were so poor as to be passable only on foot.
"You don't smell any blood, do you?" asked Lawrence.
Holo shook her head decisively.
"Let's go, then. The detour is a bit too far."
"And even if they should be mercenaries, you have me," said Holo, pulling out the leather pouch filled with wheat that hung from her neck. A better bodyguard didn't exist.
Lawrence smiled trustingly as he drove the horse down the road.
"So, to detour around here, take the path of Saint Lyne?"
"No, it's surely shorter to take the road that crosses the plains to Mitzheim."
"Anyway, is that talk about the mercenary band true?"
"Buy this cloth, won't you? I'll take salt in exchange."
"Anyone here speak Parcian? I think this guy's got a problem!"
Lawrence and Holo caught snatches of conversation as they reached the throng of people.
Some of the people stopped in the road were recognizable at a glance as merchants. Others were artisans from different lands on pilgrimages to improve their skills.

Output:
Getting into a confrontation because of a language barrier is a terrifyingly unforgettable experience—all the more so when you happen to be carrying your entire fortune with you.
Sadly, Lawrence didn't understand the man, either. He empathized, but there was nothing he could do, and he didn't know what the precise problem was anyway.
Lawrence glanced at Holo—a sign that she should stay quietly sitting in the driver's seat—and hopped out of the wagon, hailing a nearby merchant.
"Excuse me," he said.
"Hm? Oh, a fellow traveler. Have you just arrived?"
"Yes, from Poroson. But what's going on here? Surely the local earl hasn't decided to open a market here."
"Hah! Nay, were that so, we'd all have mats spread on the ground and be trading the day away. In truth, there's tell of a mercenary band crossing the road to Ruvinheigen. So we're all stopped here."
The merchant wore a turban and loose, baggy pants. The man had a heavy mantle wrapped about his neck and large knapsack slung over his back. Judging by his heavy clothes, the merchant frequented the heart of the northlands.
The dust of the road lingered on his snow-burned face. The many wrinkles and the tanned leather pallor of his skin were proof of a long life as a traveling merchant.
"A mercenary band? I know General Rastuille's group patrols these parts."
"No, they were flying crimson flags with a hawk device upon them."
Lawrence knitted his brow. "The Heinzberg Mercenary Band?"
"Oh ho. I see you've traveled the northlands. Indeed, they say it's the Hawks of Heinzberg—I'd sooner run into bandits than them when carrying a full load of goods."
It was said that the Hawks of Heinzberg were so hungry for wealth that wherever they passed, not so much as a single turnip leaf would be left behind if they thought it could be sold. They had made their name in the northlands, and if they were on the road ahead, trying to pass it would be suicidal.
The Heinzberg mercenaries were reputed to spot their prey faster than a hawk on the wing. They would be upon a lazily traveling merchant in an instant, surely.
However—mercenaries acted purely out of self-interest, and in that sense, they were not far from merchants. Essentially, when they behaved strangely, there was often something similarly unexpected happening in the marketplace.
For example, a sharp jump or drop in the price of goods.
Being a merchant, Lawrence was naturally pessimistic, but pessimism would get him nowhere, he knew—he was already on the road, loaded with goods. All that mattered now was how he would get to Ruvinheigen.
"So it seems taking a long detour is the only course," said Lawrence.
"Most probably. Apparently there's a new road to Ruvinheigen that heads off from the road to Kaslata, but it's been on the unsafe side lately, I hear."
Lawrence had not been in this region for half a year, so this was the first he had heard of a new road. He seemed to recall that on the northern side of the plains that stretched out, there was an eerie forest that was the source of constant unpleasant rumors.
"Unsafe?" he asked. "Unsafe how?"
"Well, there have always been wolves in the plains, but it's been especially bad lately, they say. There's a story going around that an entire caravan was taken two weeks ago—and the wolves were summoned by a pagan sorcerer."
Lawrence then remembered that the unpleasant rumors were mainly of wolves. He realized Holo was probably listening in on this conversation and stole a glance at her. A smile danced around the corners of her mouth.
"How do you get to this new road?"


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

Input:
Getting into a confrontation because of a language barrier is a terrifyingly unforgettable experience—all the more so when you happen to be carrying your entire fortune with you.
Sadly, Lawrence didn't understand the man, either. He empathized, but there was nothing he could do, and he didn't know what the precise problem was anyway.
Lawrence glanced at Holo—a sign that she should stay quietly sitting in the driver's seat—and hopped out of the wagon, hailing a nearby merchant.
"Excuse me," he said.
"Hm? Oh, a fellow traveler. Have you just arrived?"
"Yes, from Poroson. But what's going on here? Surely the local earl hasn't decided to open a market here."
"Hah! Nay, were that so, we'd all have mats spread on the ground and be trading the day away. In truth, there's tell of a mercenary band crossing the road to Ruvinheigen. So we're all stopped here."
The merchant wore a turban and loose, baggy pants. The man had a heavy mantle wrapped about his neck and large knapsack slung over his back. Judging by his heavy clothes, the merchant frequented the heart of the northlands.
The dust of the road lingered on his snow-burned face. The many wrinkles and the tanned leather pallor of his skin were proof of a long life as a traveling merchant.
"A mercenary band? I know General Rastuille's group patrols these parts."
"No, they were flying crimson flags with a hawk device upon them."
Lawrence knitted his brow. "The Heinzberg Mercenary Band?"
"Oh ho. I see you've traveled the northlands. Indeed, they say it's the Hawks of Heinzberg—I'd sooner run into bandits than them when carrying a full load of goods."
It was said that the Hawks of Heinzberg were so hungry for wealth that wherever they passed, not so much as a single turnip leaf would be left behind if they thought it could be sold. They had made their name in the northlands, and if they were on the road ahead, trying to pass it would be suicidal.
The Heinzberg mercenaries were reputed to spot their prey faster than a hawk on the wing. They would be upon a lazily traveling merchant in an instant, surely.
However—mercenaries acted purely out of self-interest, and in that sense, they were not far from merchants. Essentially, when they behaved strangely, there was often something similarly unexpected happening in the marketplace.
For example, a sharp jump or drop in the price of goods.
Being a merchant, Lawrence was naturally pessimistic, but pessimism would get him nowhere, he knew—he was already on the road, loaded with goods. All that mattered now was how he would get to Ruvinheigen.
"So it seems taking a long detour is the only course," said Lawrence.
"Most probably. Apparently there's a new road to Ruvinheigen that heads off from the road to Kaslata, but it's been on the unsafe side lately, I hear."
Lawrence had not been in this region for half a year, so this was the first he had heard of a new road. He seemed to recall that on the northern side of the plains that stretched out, there was an eerie forest that was the source of constant unpleasant rumors.
"Unsafe?" he asked. "Unsafe how?"
"Well, there have always been wolves in the plains, but it's been especially bad lately, they say. There's a story going around that an entire caravan was taken two weeks ago—and the wolves were summoned by a pagan sorcerer."
Lawrence then remembered that the unpleasant rumors were mainly of wolves. He realized Holo was probably listening in on this conversation and stole a glance at her. A smile danced around the corners of her mouth.
"How do you get to this new road?"

Output:
Lawrence nodded and looked back to the contents of his own wagon. Fortunately his cargo was in no danger of spoiling, but he still wanted to sell it in Ruvinheigen.
He pondered silently for a moment, then gave his thanks to the other merchant, and returned to the wagon.
Holo had behaved herself, but once Lawrence sat down in the driver's seat, she started giggling. "Summoned, eh?"
"So, what is Holo the Wisewolf's take on this?"
"Hm?"
"The wolves in the plains," Lawrence clarified as he took up the reins and mulled over the question at hand—to go or not to go.
"Mm," sniffed Holo, idly biting her little fingernail with a sharp fang. "I think they'd be more interesting than humans. At the very least, we'll be able to talk."
It was a good joke.
"That decides it, then." Lawrence flicked the reins and turned the wagon around, heading down the road and away from the chattering merchants.
A few of them saw and raised their voice in surprise, but most simply took off their hats or capes and waved.
"Good luck," their gestures said.
There was no merchant that would shy away from a dangerous bridge—if across that dangerous bridge waited a larger profit.
The news of a mercenary band traveling the roads would spread faster than a plague. Such was the threat that they posed.
But for a merchant, time was an indispensable tool. Wasting it always led to loss.
This is why Lawrence decided that with Holo along, he would risk traveling the plains, despite the rumors of wolves.
The stories of a nearby mercenary band would surely have an impact on the Ruvinheigen market, and Lawrence meant to take advantage of that to make a nice bit of pocket money. At first he'd jumped to the assumption that things had taken a turn for the worse, but in reality, it was just the opposite.
And in any case, unexpected developments were part and parcel of the life of a traveling merchant—that's what made it fun.
"You certainly seem happy," remarked a bemused Holo.
"I suppose" was Lawrence's short reply.
The road ahead led to profit, the watchword of the traveling merchant.
They arrived at the plains in question before noon the next day.
There were times when new trade routes naturally occurred, and other times when the powers that be in the region created them. Sometimes grass was cleared to make the road, but in extreme cases, gravel would be laid, then topped with wooden planks, allowing carts to cross the terrain at relatively high speeds.
Such roads did not come cheaply, of course, and tolls to use them were high, but since robbers along these roads were dealt with harshly, the price was a good value in terms of time and safety.
The road ahead, with its rumors of wolf appearances, was somewhere between the two types.
A sign had been erected, indicating the destination of the road that now branched off. There at the fork was a pile of weather-beaten planks, as if there had once been a plan to build something at this junction. Perhaps the builders had intended to collect a toll to maintain the road well, but now all that remained was that one lonely sign.
The junction sat atop a small hill, and from its crest, one could see down the road as far as one cared to. This seemed like a good spot for lunch. Despite the approaching winter, the grass was still quite green, and Lawrence could look out across plains that he would have rushed to pasture his sheep upon were he a shepherd.
All that was left of the road that cut through the plains was a pair of wagon tracks, mostly overgrown with grass. Naturally, there were no other travelers.
According to Lawrence's mental map, the forest to the north of this road was the most suitable spot for the wolves to make their home, but it was hardly true that all wolves lived in forests. In the distance stood patches of tall grass, and this looked more and more like an ideal plain for wolves.
Lawrence could guess that much without asking Holo, but he went ahead and consulted her anyway.
"What do you think? Any wolves about?"


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

Input:
Lawrence nodded and looked back to the contents of his own wagon. Fortunately his cargo was in no danger of spoiling, but he still wanted to sell it in Ruvinheigen.
He pondered silently for a moment, then gave his thanks to the other merchant, and returned to the wagon.
Holo had behaved herself, but once Lawrence sat down in the driver's seat, she started giggling. "Summoned, eh?"
"So, what is Holo the Wisewolf's take on this?"
"Hm?"
"The wolves in the plains," Lawrence clarified as he took up the reins and mulled over the question at hand—to go or not to go.
"Mm," sniffed Holo, idly biting her little fingernail with a sharp fang. "I think they'd be more interesting than humans. At the very least, we'll be able to talk."
It was a good joke.
"That decides it, then." Lawrence flicked the reins and turned the wagon around, heading down the road and away from the chattering merchants.
A few of them saw and raised their voice in surprise, but most simply took off their hats or capes and waved.
"Good luck," their gestures said.
There was no merchant that would shy away from a dangerous bridge—if across that dangerous bridge waited a larger profit.
The news of a mercenary band traveling the roads would spread faster than a plague. Such was the threat that they posed.
But for a merchant, time was an indispensable tool. Wasting it always led to loss.
This is why Lawrence decided that with Holo along, he would risk traveling the plains, despite the rumors of wolves.
The stories of a nearby mercenary band would surely have an impact on the Ruvinheigen market, and Lawrence meant to take advantage of that to make a nice bit of pocket money. At first he'd jumped to the assumption that things had taken a turn for the worse, but in reality, it was just the opposite.
And in any case, unexpected developments were part and parcel of the life of a traveling merchant—that's what made it fun.
"You certainly seem happy," remarked a bemused Holo.
"I suppose" was Lawrence's short reply.
The road ahead led to profit, the watchword of the traveling merchant.
They arrived at the plains in question before noon the next day.
There were times when new trade routes naturally occurred, and other times when the powers that be in the region created them. Sometimes grass was cleared to make the road, but in extreme cases, gravel would be laid, then topped with wooden planks, allowing carts to cross the terrain at relatively high speeds.
Such roads did not come cheaply, of course, and tolls to use them were high, but since robbers along these roads were dealt with harshly, the price was a good value in terms of time and safety.
The road ahead, with its rumors of wolf appearances, was somewhere between the two types.
A sign had been erected, indicating the destination of the road that now branched off. There at the fork was a pile of weather-beaten planks, as if there had once been a plan to build something at this junction. Perhaps the builders had intended to collect a toll to maintain the road well, but now all that remained was that one lonely sign.
The junction sat atop a small hill, and from its crest, one could see down the road as far as one cared to. This seemed like a good spot for lunch. Despite the approaching winter, the grass was still quite green, and Lawrence could look out across plains that he would have rushed to pasture his sheep upon were he a shepherd.
All that was left of the road that cut through the plains was a pair of wagon tracks, mostly overgrown with grass. Naturally, there were no other travelers.
According to Lawrence's mental map, the forest to the north of this road was the most suitable spot for the wolves to make their home, but it was hardly true that all wolves lived in forests. In the distance stood patches of tall grass, and this looked more and more like an ideal plain for wolves.
Lawrence could guess that much without asking Holo, but he went ahead and consulted her anyway.
"What do you think? Any wolves about?"

Output:
Holo's statement and her fangs brought her essential wolf nature to the forefront of Lawrence's mind, and he considered complications.
If they did encounter wolves, the situation would become problematic.
"It should be well, though. Should we happen into a pack, we'll just throw them some jerky. We wolves don't get into pointless fights, after all."
Lawrence nodded and snapped the reins to start across the plains; the gentle breeze smelled faintly of wild beasts. Lawrence murmured a quiet prayer for safe travels.
"A faram silver piece."
"Nope. It's a counterfeit marinne."
"Wait, was not the counterfeit marinne this one?"
"No, that's a piece of late Radeon bishopry silver."
***
Holo fell silent, holding several pieces of silver in her hand.
Lawrence was teaching her the names of various currencies as a way to combat boredom, but even Holo the Wisewolf struggled with coins whose size and design were so similar.
"Well, you'll pick it up as you use them, no doubt," said Lawrence.
Holo was so serious that Lawrence was afraid to tease her, but his effort to be considerate only seemed to hurt her pride even more. She glared up at him, her ears flicking angrily under her hood.
"Once more, then!" she said.
"All right, from the top."
"Mm."
"Trenni silver, phiring silver, ryut silver, fake marinne silver, faram silver, bald king Landbard silver, Mitzfing temple silver, fake Mitzfing temple silver, Saint Mitzfing silver, Miztfingmas silver, and this one is..."
"...W-wait, now."
"Hm?"
Lawrence looked up from Holo's palm, where he'd been pointing at the various coins. Her expression was complicated—angry and on the verge of tears.
"Y-you're making sport of me," she said.
Lawrence remembered accusing his own teacher of the same thing, when he'd had to learn the names of all the different currencies—so without thinking, he laughed.
"Rrrrrr."
Holo growled and flashed her fangs, and Lawrence quickly composed himself. "The Mitzfing diocese in particular issues a lot of coin. I'm not teasing you, truly."
"Then don't laugh," Holo grumbled, looking back down at the coins. Lawrence couldn't help but smile.
"Anyway," Holo continued, "why are there so many coins? It seems such a bother."
"They're made when a new nation is established—or collapses. A powerful regional lord or church can issue coin, and of course, there's no end to counterfeiting. Even the ryut silver started out as a fake trenni piece, but it was so widely used it became an independent currency."
"But when pelts were used, you always knew what you were dealing with," said Holo, sniffing and then finally heaving a sigh of irritation. She might be able to tell the coins apart by scent, but Lawrence didn't know how serious she was about it.
"Still, it's a good way to kill time, eh?" he offered.
Without so much as a smile, Holo thrust the collection of coins back into Lawrence's hands. "Hmph. Enough. 'Tis time for a nap."
Holo stood, ignoring Lawrence's pained smile. He spoke to her as she made her way to the wagon bed.
"Even napping, you'll know if wolves come near?"
"Of course I shall."
"It'll be a hassle if we're surrounded."
To be cornered by mercenaries or bandits was, of course, troubling, but at least they could be reasoned with. Wolves, on the other hand, cared little for human words. One never knew what might cause them to attack.
Even with Holo at his side, Lawrence was uneasy.
"You worry excessively," said Holo, turning around with a grin, perhaps sensing his concern. "Most animals are quite aware, be they sleeping or awake. 'Tis only you humans who are defenseless in slumber."
"You'd be more convincing if you snored less."
Holo's face hardened at Lawrence's words. "I do not snore!"
"...Well, it's not too loud, I suppose," admitted Lawrence. He found her snoring rather charming, but the furrows in Holo's brow only deepened.
"I do not snore, I say."
"Fine, fine," said Lawrence, chuckling, but Holo came back up to the driver's seat and leaned close to him.
"I do not."