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

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

Output:
Elsa spoke as though she were reciting scripture, but those last words to Col were softer and kinder and came with a gentle smile. Holo flinched away but said nothing more. Col had undoubtedly ended up in this predicament because Holo had earlier insisted that the "manners" Elsa was talking about were not so important.
For someone as inherently carefree as Holo, a bit of fur maintenance was more than enough, and anything more than that was simply affectation. Lawrence himself was a pragmatist and so generally came down more on Holo's side of things.
But when an untidy impression would harm business, he would gladly tidy himself up. The reason he had left Col alone was, quite honestly, that the boy was not his apprentice and therefore uninvolved in the representation of the business.
Since Elsa's faith drove her to help as many people as she could, and although she could be a busybody, she was fundamentally helpful. Unfortunately for Holo.
Lawrence had quite forgotten the melancholy he had felt earlier and smiled a long-suffering smile. He decided to speak to Holo, who had left herself no path of retreat.
But just then, Col turned and looked over his shoulder. "I've never had my hair combed before," he said with a bashful tone. "It felt really nice."
Holo's eyes went round in surprise, but she smiled, even more pleased than Col seemed. For Col to think of her feelings meant that her battle with Elsa was an indisputable loss.
"Mm, did it, then? Well, speak up whenever you've been drilled too hard and need a rest."
Elsa took the snipe exactly as it was intended, and the anger showed on her face. But from Lawrence's perspective, Holo's words were a final empty gesture in the face of defeat. Holo's chuckling made it clear that this was in fact so.
The wisewolf looked at Col's mended clothing. "Still," she added. "You'll make a good male, aye."
"So long as he follows my instruction, that prediction will indeed come true," said Elsa with uncharacteristic childishness, unable to let the opportunity for a counterattack slip by. But no one was as capable of childishness as Holo.
She stuck her tongue out at Elsa.
Elsa was more shocked than surprised by the display. Yet Col giggled—making clear, it seemed, that he was still very near to Holo in emotional maturity.
But Col was a practical and realistic thinker. As such, he knew that it was right for him to listen to Elsa above the other.
Once the thought came to Lawrence, he suddenly glimpsed the loneliness in Holo's smile. Hers was the face of the wisewolf he had come to know so well, and in her heart she was telling herself the same thing Lawrence was thinking, and it showed.
Even if she took Lawrence's advice to heart and tried to take a more carefree position, it seemed that even Holo could not behave selfishly to the bitter end.
It took talent to be a tyrant.
So what was so wrong with being a mere traveling merchant and giving his realistic view on things?
He wondered if she had somehow heard his excuse. Holo's ears pricked up, as though she had suddenly changed her mind on something, and she spun to regard him. "Now, then, let's hear what new foolishness this fool has brought to us, eh?"
As she spoke, her loneliness completely vanished, and Lawrence could only be impressed with her performance. Or perhaps she was simply relieved that there was someone there who understood her weaknesses. In truth, Lawrence felt quite the same way. From his aura, she seemed to have seen the direction the conversation was going to take.
The red-tinged amber eyes that fixed Lawrence so firmly in their gaze were more beautiful than usual.
"A fool's errand that could only be the result of God's mistake," said Lawrence, exaggerating a bit.
Holo turned to Elsa with similar exaggeration. "Well, then, ours must be a nasty God indeed."


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

Input:
Elsa spoke as though she were reciting scripture, but those last words to Col were softer and kinder and came with a gentle smile. Holo flinched away but said nothing more. Col had undoubtedly ended up in this predicament because Holo had earlier insisted that the "manners" Elsa was talking about were not so important.
For someone as inherently carefree as Holo, a bit of fur maintenance was more than enough, and anything more than that was simply affectation. Lawrence himself was a pragmatist and so generally came down more on Holo's side of things.
But when an untidy impression would harm business, he would gladly tidy himself up. The reason he had left Col alone was, quite honestly, that the boy was not his apprentice and therefore uninvolved in the representation of the business.
Since Elsa's faith drove her to help as many people as she could, and although she could be a busybody, she was fundamentally helpful. Unfortunately for Holo.
Lawrence had quite forgotten the melancholy he had felt earlier and smiled a long-suffering smile. He decided to speak to Holo, who had left herself no path of retreat.
But just then, Col turned and looked over his shoulder. "I've never had my hair combed before," he said with a bashful tone. "It felt really nice."
Holo's eyes went round in surprise, but she smiled, even more pleased than Col seemed. For Col to think of her feelings meant that her battle with Elsa was an indisputable loss.
"Mm, did it, then? Well, speak up whenever you've been drilled too hard and need a rest."
Elsa took the snipe exactly as it was intended, and the anger showed on her face. But from Lawrence's perspective, Holo's words were a final empty gesture in the face of defeat. Holo's chuckling made it clear that this was in fact so.
The wisewolf looked at Col's mended clothing. "Still," she added. "You'll make a good male, aye."
"So long as he follows my instruction, that prediction will indeed come true," said Elsa with uncharacteristic childishness, unable to let the opportunity for a counterattack slip by. But no one was as capable of childishness as Holo.
She stuck her tongue out at Elsa.
Elsa was more shocked than surprised by the display. Yet Col giggled—making clear, it seemed, that he was still very near to Holo in emotional maturity.
But Col was a practical and realistic thinker. As such, he knew that it was right for him to listen to Elsa above the other.
Once the thought came to Lawrence, he suddenly glimpsed the loneliness in Holo's smile. Hers was the face of the wisewolf he had come to know so well, and in her heart she was telling herself the same thing Lawrence was thinking, and it showed.
Even if she took Lawrence's advice to heart and tried to take a more carefree position, it seemed that even Holo could not behave selfishly to the bitter end.
It took talent to be a tyrant.
So what was so wrong with being a mere traveling merchant and giving his realistic view on things?
He wondered if she had somehow heard his excuse. Holo's ears pricked up, as though she had suddenly changed her mind on something, and she spun to regard him. "Now, then, let's hear what new foolishness this fool has brought to us, eh?"
As she spoke, her loneliness completely vanished, and Lawrence could only be impressed with her performance. Or perhaps she was simply relieved that there was someone there who understood her weaknesses. In truth, Lawrence felt quite the same way. From his aura, she seemed to have seen the direction the conversation was going to take.
The red-tinged amber eyes that fixed Lawrence so firmly in their gaze were more beautiful than usual.
"A fool's errand that could only be the result of God's mistake," said Lawrence, exaggerating a bit.
Holo turned to Elsa with similar exaggeration. "Well, then, ours must be a nasty God indeed."

Output:
Lawrence swore he could hear the sound of Holo's tail puffing out in irritation.
He smiled at the strong-willed pair. "So, might I perhaps discuss the situation with you?" he said, coming between them.
When Lawrence finished relaying Le Roi's story and his own opinions on it, a rather oppressive silence descended on the room.
At its center was, of course, Holo.
"Accompanying him is at least feasible. But doing so will bring me to the limit of my time. You would have to go on to Yoitsu on your own."
Holo, who was called the wisewolf, was at a loss for an answer.
If they aided Le Roi, it would remove one of the worst possibilities, and simply ascertaining the truth of the story would give her some measure of relief. But in exchange, it would become difficult for Lawrence to spare the time to travel north.
On the other hand, if they ignored the story and proceeded according to their original plan, there would be lingering worries, and it was all too clear what would happen if those worries became tragedy. On top of that, there would be the regret that would come with having had this opportunity to act and letting it pass.
No one knew the pain of being unable to turn back time better than Holo did. She did not look at Lawrence and simply stared at the floor, brow furrowed.
The question was simply whether or not they would go to Yoitsu together—but Lawrence had put so much into being able to fulfill his promise to Holo...
No doubt the reason she was not looking at Lawrence was that she feared that if she did, the answer would come out. The wisewolf prided herself on not being carried away by emotions, and so she could not possibly look at Lawrence.
And Lawrence said nothing, as he knew that this decision had to be Holo's.
In any case, he could see her answer. Or believed he did.
Which is why, when Holo sighed and looked up at him, he was momentarily confused.
"We have no choice but to take the fruitful path," she said with a tired smile, sounding almost relieved.
It was her wisewolf's face. He had seen it so many times before.
After the surprise, Lawrence felt a small surge of anger. "You mean—" he began, but the question he was about to ask was cut off by a sharp look from her.
Holo's expression immediately softened, though, as though to say she very much wished they could go to Yoitsu together.
"Your promise to me was that you would take me to Yoitsu. So long as you provide me true directions there, I consider that fulfillment of the promise. Whether or not you come with me is a matter of sentiment only."
By contrast, the matter of Le Roi had practical implications.
Any proper adult, not just a wisewolf, knew better than to have their reason swayed by temporary emotions. It was right and proper, and moreover, the attitude Lawrence took in his daily business.
And yet the shock Lawrence received from Holo's words was very much a matter of sentiment.
"But there was another, wasn't there?"
"Another?" Lawrence replied.
Holo glanced at Col and Elsa briefly. "You know that," she said, faintly amused. "I have a debt to you. Do you remember? You were terrible about it. You said you'd follow me to the ends of the earth to get it from me, you did. Such an avaricious merchant you are."
Elsa and Col could not help but weigh the truth of Holo's words, but they were clearly shocked to see Lawrence's frustrated face.
He had long since forgotten that.
"Did you truly...!" said Elsa, anger and scorn on her face after she got over her surprise. Using debt to force another into bondage was a sin she would not forgive, no matter the circumstances. Especially not when it was someone close; her eyes made it clear she thought of Lawrence as a heartless miser.
"No, there were circumstances...!"
"Mm. Still, if the profit from this pays off that debt, then surely even the stubbornest man or god would forgive it, eh?" said Holo, earning her a disapproving look from Elsa.


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

Input:
Lawrence swore he could hear the sound of Holo's tail puffing out in irritation.
He smiled at the strong-willed pair. "So, might I perhaps discuss the situation with you?" he said, coming between them.
When Lawrence finished relaying Le Roi's story and his own opinions on it, a rather oppressive silence descended on the room.
At its center was, of course, Holo.
"Accompanying him is at least feasible. But doing so will bring me to the limit of my time. You would have to go on to Yoitsu on your own."
Holo, who was called the wisewolf, was at a loss for an answer.
If they aided Le Roi, it would remove one of the worst possibilities, and simply ascertaining the truth of the story would give her some measure of relief. But in exchange, it would become difficult for Lawrence to spare the time to travel north.
On the other hand, if they ignored the story and proceeded according to their original plan, there would be lingering worries, and it was all too clear what would happen if those worries became tragedy. On top of that, there would be the regret that would come with having had this opportunity to act and letting it pass.
No one knew the pain of being unable to turn back time better than Holo did. She did not look at Lawrence and simply stared at the floor, brow furrowed.
The question was simply whether or not they would go to Yoitsu together—but Lawrence had put so much into being able to fulfill his promise to Holo...
No doubt the reason she was not looking at Lawrence was that she feared that if she did, the answer would come out. The wisewolf prided herself on not being carried away by emotions, and so she could not possibly look at Lawrence.
And Lawrence said nothing, as he knew that this decision had to be Holo's.
In any case, he could see her answer. Or believed he did.
Which is why, when Holo sighed and looked up at him, he was momentarily confused.
"We have no choice but to take the fruitful path," she said with a tired smile, sounding almost relieved.
It was her wisewolf's face. He had seen it so many times before.
After the surprise, Lawrence felt a small surge of anger. "You mean—" he began, but the question he was about to ask was cut off by a sharp look from her.
Holo's expression immediately softened, though, as though to say she very much wished they could go to Yoitsu together.
"Your promise to me was that you would take me to Yoitsu. So long as you provide me true directions there, I consider that fulfillment of the promise. Whether or not you come with me is a matter of sentiment only."
By contrast, the matter of Le Roi had practical implications.
Any proper adult, not just a wisewolf, knew better than to have their reason swayed by temporary emotions. It was right and proper, and moreover, the attitude Lawrence took in his daily business.
And yet the shock Lawrence received from Holo's words was very much a matter of sentiment.
"But there was another, wasn't there?"
"Another?" Lawrence replied.
Holo glanced at Col and Elsa briefly. "You know that," she said, faintly amused. "I have a debt to you. Do you remember? You were terrible about it. You said you'd follow me to the ends of the earth to get it from me, you did. Such an avaricious merchant you are."
Elsa and Col could not help but weigh the truth of Holo's words, but they were clearly shocked to see Lawrence's frustrated face.
He had long since forgotten that.
"Did you truly...!" said Elsa, anger and scorn on her face after she got over her surprise. Using debt to force another into bondage was a sin she would not forgive, no matter the circumstances. Especially not when it was someone close; her eyes made it clear she thought of Lawrence as a heartless miser.
"No, there were circumstances...!"
"Mm. Still, if the profit from this pays off that debt, then surely even the stubbornest man or god would forgive it, eh?" said Holo, earning her a disapproving look from Elsa.

Output:
"So, then—at least ten days by wagon, you said? Well, with enough good food and wine, I think I can enjoy myself for that long," said Holo airily, as she looked toward the window.
Lawrence could not help but swallow his words when he saw how she looked.
Did she really mean to say that at Yoitsu she would be able to part ways with him smiling, so long as she had food and wine? Lawrence wanted to ask but knew nothing would come of the answer.
The question of whether or not she would go to Yoitsu with Lawrence was a purely sentimental one. And Holo could always part ways with a smile—because she was well used to forcing those smiles.
"Come, now that it's decided, you can accept this fellow's proposition. If you miss your chance, 'twill be a sad state of affairs indeed. You're always saying you're a merchant—go make some easy profit, eh?"
Lawrence knew perfectly well she was forcing this cheer. But Holo seemed satisfied to see that he knew. Her sad smile said it all too clearly: "You needn't worry about me so."
It was simply not in Holo's nature to act selfishly. Even when Lawrence pushed her to, even when he tried to incite her, she pulled away from the struggle over Col.
It was all he could do to nod. "You're right. Might as well go out with a flourish, eh?"
It was a rather good line for an insensitive merchant, Lawrence felt. But Holo turned instantly irritated. "Must you always be so gloomy?"
"Huh?" Col smiled an apologetically nervous smile.
And a smile, too, was the only reply Lawrence could give the sighing Holo.
Lawrence put on his coat and looked down through the window onto the street below. It was still crowded with people, but at the church, evening prayers would soon begin.
As morning came early to the church, so did evening. Which meant that in the winter, when the sun set so early, "evening" was pushed back a bit. The marketplace would close with the bells that signaled the end of evening prayers, so the town merchants would still be running busily here and there.
Which meant there was no guarantee that Le Roi was waiting somewhere for Lawrence's reply, and just as Holo said, if someone else took the opportunity out from under him, it would be rather pathetic.
Having decided to accept the offer, there was no time to waste.
"Huh? You're not coming?" His preparations complete, Lawrence looked over his shoulder to see Holo still on the bed.
"I'm a wisewolf. What need have I to run around for such trivial affairs?"
As she sat there tending to her tail, it was true that she did not look much like someone concerned with staying busy.
Lawrence lacked the energy to say anything to that, so he looked instead to Col. But before his gaze had even landed on the boy, Holo spoke up. "You'll stay and mind the room with me, won't you, lad?"
Elsa had left the inn to attend evening prayers, so if Col were to leave, Holo would have been alone.
She hated being alone, of course, but more important than that was surely the chance to monopolize Col. She was no match for a head-on confrontation with Elsa, so, having realized that, the sneaky wisewolf was taking advantage of her opponent's absence.
"Good point. Don't open the door for strangers, don't order any food, and if you go anywhere, be sure to tell the innkeeper. I can leave you to mind Holo, can't I?" said Lawrence. He had to get his attack in while he could.
Col smiled but was mindful of Holo, who in turn seemed completely unruffled. It wasn't very charming of her, but this was not the first time she had failed to charm.
Lawrence left the room and descended the stairs.
He looked left and right along the crowded street and, after a moment's thought, began walking in the direction of Philon's shop. There was a good possibility Le Roi had headed off somewhere, but going through Philon's shop would be the quickest way to contact him.


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

Input:
"So, then—at least ten days by wagon, you said? Well, with enough good food and wine, I think I can enjoy myself for that long," said Holo airily, as she looked toward the window.
Lawrence could not help but swallow his words when he saw how she looked.
Did she really mean to say that at Yoitsu she would be able to part ways with him smiling, so long as she had food and wine? Lawrence wanted to ask but knew nothing would come of the answer.
The question of whether or not she would go to Yoitsu with Lawrence was a purely sentimental one. And Holo could always part ways with a smile—because she was well used to forcing those smiles.
"Come, now that it's decided, you can accept this fellow's proposition. If you miss your chance, 'twill be a sad state of affairs indeed. You're always saying you're a merchant—go make some easy profit, eh?"
Lawrence knew perfectly well she was forcing this cheer. But Holo seemed satisfied to see that he knew. Her sad smile said it all too clearly: "You needn't worry about me so."
It was simply not in Holo's nature to act selfishly. Even when Lawrence pushed her to, even when he tried to incite her, she pulled away from the struggle over Col.
It was all he could do to nod. "You're right. Might as well go out with a flourish, eh?"
It was a rather good line for an insensitive merchant, Lawrence felt. But Holo turned instantly irritated. "Must you always be so gloomy?"
"Huh?" Col smiled an apologetically nervous smile.
And a smile, too, was the only reply Lawrence could give the sighing Holo.
Lawrence put on his coat and looked down through the window onto the street below. It was still crowded with people, but at the church, evening prayers would soon begin.
As morning came early to the church, so did evening. Which meant that in the winter, when the sun set so early, "evening" was pushed back a bit. The marketplace would close with the bells that signaled the end of evening prayers, so the town merchants would still be running busily here and there.
Which meant there was no guarantee that Le Roi was waiting somewhere for Lawrence's reply, and just as Holo said, if someone else took the opportunity out from under him, it would be rather pathetic.
Having decided to accept the offer, there was no time to waste.
"Huh? You're not coming?" His preparations complete, Lawrence looked over his shoulder to see Holo still on the bed.
"I'm a wisewolf. What need have I to run around for such trivial affairs?"
As she sat there tending to her tail, it was true that she did not look much like someone concerned with staying busy.
Lawrence lacked the energy to say anything to that, so he looked instead to Col. But before his gaze had even landed on the boy, Holo spoke up. "You'll stay and mind the room with me, won't you, lad?"
Elsa had left the inn to attend evening prayers, so if Col were to leave, Holo would have been alone.
She hated being alone, of course, but more important than that was surely the chance to monopolize Col. She was no match for a head-on confrontation with Elsa, so, having realized that, the sneaky wisewolf was taking advantage of her opponent's absence.
"Good point. Don't open the door for strangers, don't order any food, and if you go anywhere, be sure to tell the innkeeper. I can leave you to mind Holo, can't I?" said Lawrence. He had to get his attack in while he could.
Col smiled but was mindful of Holo, who in turn seemed completely unruffled. It wasn't very charming of her, but this was not the first time she had failed to charm.
Lawrence left the room and descended the stairs.
He looked left and right along the crowded street and, after a moment's thought, began walking in the direction of Philon's shop. There was a good possibility Le Roi had headed off somewhere, but going through Philon's shop would be the quickest way to contact him.

Output:
Lawrence mused on how he hoped he would be able to learn more once he committed to the plan. He thought about this as he looked up at the church steeple, which was visible from everywhere in town. It was the heart of the place, and right about now it would be filled with the faithful—people like Elsa.
To tell which among the townspeople were devout and which were not, one needed only to look at who was doing business in the marketplace until it closed. The devout would not remain, instead hurrying to the church well before the end of business in the marketplace.
Occasionally, there were some who were faithful not to God but rather to the scent of wine, but what they had in common was a wish to live in peace. The only difference was whether they found salvation in prayer or drink.
When Lawrence arrived at Philon's place, he came upon Philon and Le Roi chatting, each with a drink in their hand.
Le Roi's reaction was quick. He was an experienced merchant, and immediately understood Lawrence's facial expression.
"I accept your proposal."
Since he normally adopted such a comically exaggerated manner, his quiet reaction in this moment carried all the more weight. He was a cunning merchant, indeed.
Le Roi took Lawrence's hand as though he were too moved for words. "I thought that I had lost God's favor a second time. I was about to give up."
Still, not all of his pleasure was an act. Most of the merchants that crawled the earth had a shortage not of nerve nor knowledge nor luck—no, it was coin they lacked.
"Quite a surprise. My instincts led me wrong." It was Philon who spoke these words, watching the two men shake hands. As he opened a great ledger and made note of something in it, he seemed almost like a notary. And given that he dealt with mercenaries, who held their trust even more closely than merchants, he was probably more reliable than any notary.
"To think, a man with a woman and child with him would ignore such danger."
"I imagine this will be the last time," said Lawrence.
Philon grinned sardonically at this and cocked his head slightly. "I've heard the same thing from the fighters that come through my shop."
Lawrence smiled, a smile tinged with the childish hope that what he said was actually true.
"Still, I'm truly thankful. I tried to get Mr. Philon here to listen to me, but he'd have none of it." Le Roi waved his hands, returning to his former exaggerated manner.
Philon was writing something in an elegant hand, and he made a displeased face that had no trace of a smile in it. "Don't be stupid. I already trade with mercenaries. If someone saw me making a deal with the slavers at the Delink Company, what then? You wouldn't have to be very devout to wonder what sort of evil business I was up to."
Anyone who lived in a town and did business in one place had their actions watched by others. And unlike a traveling merchant, who could weather a failure and move to another town, any stain on their reputation would simply remain. That was why apothecaries did not visit taverns and why scale makers did not make friends with money changers. The former would be suspected of drugging the drinks, and the latter of tampering with the scales.
"We've nothing to fear on that count." Le Roi put his thick arm around Lawrence's shoulder.
And, in fact, that was surely one of the reasons why Le Roi had chosen Lawrence to approach. If either of them failed, in the worst case, they could simply turn tail and run. Also, the company they were seeking a loan from was openly involved in the slave trade and obviously did not care about its public reputation.
Philon sighed a resigned sigh, but there was a faint smile on his face—and perhaps a slight envy of the sort of freedom Lawrence and Le Roi enjoyed.
It was said that travelers endured uncertainty, but the town bound were stifled. Nothing ever went quite as one would wish, which was what kept people striving forward.
"Still, I'm truly grateful. I'm lucky you decided the way you did."


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

Input:
Lawrence mused on how he hoped he would be able to learn more once he committed to the plan. He thought about this as he looked up at the church steeple, which was visible from everywhere in town. It was the heart of the place, and right about now it would be filled with the faithful—people like Elsa.
To tell which among the townspeople were devout and which were not, one needed only to look at who was doing business in the marketplace until it closed. The devout would not remain, instead hurrying to the church well before the end of business in the marketplace.
Occasionally, there were some who were faithful not to God but rather to the scent of wine, but what they had in common was a wish to live in peace. The only difference was whether they found salvation in prayer or drink.
When Lawrence arrived at Philon's place, he came upon Philon and Le Roi chatting, each with a drink in their hand.
Le Roi's reaction was quick. He was an experienced merchant, and immediately understood Lawrence's facial expression.
"I accept your proposal."
Since he normally adopted such a comically exaggerated manner, his quiet reaction in this moment carried all the more weight. He was a cunning merchant, indeed.
Le Roi took Lawrence's hand as though he were too moved for words. "I thought that I had lost God's favor a second time. I was about to give up."
Still, not all of his pleasure was an act. Most of the merchants that crawled the earth had a shortage not of nerve nor knowledge nor luck—no, it was coin they lacked.
"Quite a surprise. My instincts led me wrong." It was Philon who spoke these words, watching the two men shake hands. As he opened a great ledger and made note of something in it, he seemed almost like a notary. And given that he dealt with mercenaries, who held their trust even more closely than merchants, he was probably more reliable than any notary.
"To think, a man with a woman and child with him would ignore such danger."
"I imagine this will be the last time," said Lawrence.
Philon grinned sardonically at this and cocked his head slightly. "I've heard the same thing from the fighters that come through my shop."
Lawrence smiled, a smile tinged with the childish hope that what he said was actually true.
"Still, I'm truly thankful. I tried to get Mr. Philon here to listen to me, but he'd have none of it." Le Roi waved his hands, returning to his former exaggerated manner.
Philon was writing something in an elegant hand, and he made a displeased face that had no trace of a smile in it. "Don't be stupid. I already trade with mercenaries. If someone saw me making a deal with the slavers at the Delink Company, what then? You wouldn't have to be very devout to wonder what sort of evil business I was up to."
Anyone who lived in a town and did business in one place had their actions watched by others. And unlike a traveling merchant, who could weather a failure and move to another town, any stain on their reputation would simply remain. That was why apothecaries did not visit taverns and why scale makers did not make friends with money changers. The former would be suspected of drugging the drinks, and the latter of tampering with the scales.
"We've nothing to fear on that count." Le Roi put his thick arm around Lawrence's shoulder.
And, in fact, that was surely one of the reasons why Le Roi had chosen Lawrence to approach. If either of them failed, in the worst case, they could simply turn tail and run. Also, the company they were seeking a loan from was openly involved in the slave trade and obviously did not care about its public reputation.
Philon sighed a resigned sigh, but there was a faint smile on his face—and perhaps a slight envy of the sort of freedom Lawrence and Le Roi enjoyed.
It was said that travelers endured uncertainty, but the town bound were stifled. Nothing ever went quite as one would wish, which was what kept people striving forward.
"Still, I'm truly grateful. I'm lucky you decided the way you did."

Output:
Le Roi nodded immediately. But the book dealer was neither ignorant nor naive. His response was quick. "They won't agree—they'll be made to agree." Le Roi thrust his chest out, looking like some great pigeon. "I'm very confident in the collateral, after all."
A little overwhelmed, Lawrence nodded. Le Roi exhaled the great breath he had drawn, then quieted his voice. "By the way, just between you and me, we may end up getting ahead of Mr. Philon."
Philon's eyes alone fixed upon Le Roi. A smile played about his lips.
"I had no idea. How novel."
If Holo had seen the transparent exchange, she would have laughed. Col would have been confused. And Elsa would have made a displeased face.
Le Roi nodded and turned to face Lawrence. "Do you mind talking here?"
Lawrence had no reason to refuse. He nodded slowly.
As Philon attended to his own work, Lawrence and Le Roi began to make their plans.
"Near the capital of Ploania, Endima, there's a town called Kieschen. The book is with a trading company there."
Lawrence did not know the exact location of the town, but he had heard the name before. But Endima was easily a twenty-day journey by horse-drawn wagon; if Lawrence introduced Le Roi to the Delink Company, it was all but certain he would have to stay with the bookseller to watch him, since once the introduction was made, any suspicious movements would be on Lawrence's head.
Which meant seeing this through would take a month or two months.
Even if everything went perfectly, Lawrence would have to head directly south afterward.
"My job as a bookseller is to use my contacts to know the trends among book collectors. Using those contacts, I've worked out the location of every single book written in the desert country language."
"I'm surprised you've never been accused of heresy," said Lawrence, half-surprised and half-restraining himself. For a moment, he glimpsed Le Roi's true nature as the man smiled a dark smile.
"To catch a snake, use a serpent. The inspector telling you the wine's been adulterated is the one drinking it down. That's what I'm getting at."
"I see." Lawrence gestured for Le Roi to continue with an apologetic gesture.
"My intuition, at least based on what I was able to learn this past summer, is that it's unlikely that the trading company has realized the true value of the book. The master of the company is a great lover of adventure tales, especially thick histories. A traveling entertainer I know told me as much in the postscript of a letter and said he acquired the book as part of a big lot of those adventure stories. If he hasn't realized what it's worth, it's probably sitting in a long line of books waiting to be translated."
This was not a simple assumption. It was a very likely possibility. Le Roi was not the careless, foolish man he appeared to be. He possessed an orderly and logical mind, like fine lines of writing in a thick tome. "In order to buy the book, we have to solve two problems. One is how to buy it. The other is how to get the money there."
"As for the first, we'll surely have to go to the town ourselves. It's not as though we have a branch company or a trusted underling we can send on our behalf."
Le Roi smiled a familiar smile at Lawrence's words. The owners of large companies would not have to actually travel in order to make such a purchase. "As someone who makes the greater part of his living on his own feet, I quite agree."
"As for the second problem, a money order seems appropriate."
A money order—a merchant's technique likely to make a hard-headed churchman knit his brows and cry witchcraft. It was a miraculous thing that lent money was moved from places far removed from one another without having to actually risk transporting it.


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

Input:
Le Roi nodded immediately. But the book dealer was neither ignorant nor naive. His response was quick. "They won't agree—they'll be made to agree." Le Roi thrust his chest out, looking like some great pigeon. "I'm very confident in the collateral, after all."
A little overwhelmed, Lawrence nodded. Le Roi exhaled the great breath he had drawn, then quieted his voice. "By the way, just between you and me, we may end up getting ahead of Mr. Philon."
Philon's eyes alone fixed upon Le Roi. A smile played about his lips.
"I had no idea. How novel."
If Holo had seen the transparent exchange, she would have laughed. Col would have been confused. And Elsa would have made a displeased face.
Le Roi nodded and turned to face Lawrence. "Do you mind talking here?"
Lawrence had no reason to refuse. He nodded slowly.
As Philon attended to his own work, Lawrence and Le Roi began to make their plans.
"Near the capital of Ploania, Endima, there's a town called Kieschen. The book is with a trading company there."
Lawrence did not know the exact location of the town, but he had heard the name before. But Endima was easily a twenty-day journey by horse-drawn wagon; if Lawrence introduced Le Roi to the Delink Company, it was all but certain he would have to stay with the bookseller to watch him, since once the introduction was made, any suspicious movements would be on Lawrence's head.
Which meant seeing this through would take a month or two months.
Even if everything went perfectly, Lawrence would have to head directly south afterward.
"My job as a bookseller is to use my contacts to know the trends among book collectors. Using those contacts, I've worked out the location of every single book written in the desert country language."
"I'm surprised you've never been accused of heresy," said Lawrence, half-surprised and half-restraining himself. For a moment, he glimpsed Le Roi's true nature as the man smiled a dark smile.
"To catch a snake, use a serpent. The inspector telling you the wine's been adulterated is the one drinking it down. That's what I'm getting at."
"I see." Lawrence gestured for Le Roi to continue with an apologetic gesture.
"My intuition, at least based on what I was able to learn this past summer, is that it's unlikely that the trading company has realized the true value of the book. The master of the company is a great lover of adventure tales, especially thick histories. A traveling entertainer I know told me as much in the postscript of a letter and said he acquired the book as part of a big lot of those adventure stories. If he hasn't realized what it's worth, it's probably sitting in a long line of books waiting to be translated."
This was not a simple assumption. It was a very likely possibility. Le Roi was not the careless, foolish man he appeared to be. He possessed an orderly and logical mind, like fine lines of writing in a thick tome. "In order to buy the book, we have to solve two problems. One is how to buy it. The other is how to get the money there."
"As for the first, we'll surely have to go to the town ourselves. It's not as though we have a branch company or a trusted underling we can send on our behalf."
Le Roi smiled a familiar smile at Lawrence's words. The owners of large companies would not have to actually travel in order to make such a purchase. "As someone who makes the greater part of his living on his own feet, I quite agree."
"As for the second problem, a money order seems appropriate."
A money order—a merchant's technique likely to make a hard-headed churchman knit his brows and cry witchcraft. It was a miraculous thing that lent money was moved from places far removed from one another without having to actually risk transporting it.

Output:
This was a money order.
"I quite agree. And then we needn't worry about one another running off with the money on the way," said Le Roi, a bit of self-mockery in his tone. It was true, though, that such security was another nice feature of money orders.
Money orders could only be written between companies with standing agreements and had no value in the hands of illiterate bandits. If either Le Roi or Lawrence wanted to betray the other and cash the order, a proviso could be added that would prevent such a situation.
"The problem is whether such a large money order can actually be cashed. We'll be in a bind if we travel all the way out there, only to find we can't turn it back into coin."
That was indeed the problem. Money orders were a convenient tool, but they were imperfect.
If the company in Kieschen to whom the order was written refused to exchange the money order certificate for coin, Lawrence and Le Roi would have traveled all that way with nothing but a scrap of paper to show for it. What if Kieschen were experiencing a similar money supply problem to what Lenos was now facing? Even if the company wanted to honor the money order, they might well be unable to.
Despite the existence of money orders, there were some stubborn merchants who insisted on cash, despite the dangers, because they had witnessed precisely such unlucky situations.
And the larger the amount of money, the harder to ignore such risks became.
"On that count, we can hope to get confirmation from the Delink Company. But in order to spread the risk around, it seems like having the order split up among several companies would be good. If Kieschen is close to Endima, we could also include some companies in the capital. The Delink Company ought to have relationships with many of them, after all."
"You're quite right. It seems we're in agreement on the broad strokes of this plan, Mr. Lawrence." Le Roi seemed to confirm his understanding, but it was important to make that confirmation itself clear, lest something unfortunate happen later. It was all too easy to see confusion arising when those who trusted only coin and those who trusted only certificates shook hands in agreement.
And it was not a matter of logic that was to be trusted. More important was experience, which often transcended pure reason.
"I once thought in all seriousness that I would never again involve myself with the Delink Company." Lawrence still felt that they lived in different worlds.
When Lawrence thought of the Delink Company or of Eve, it summoned within him a strange combination of envy and despair. If Holo had been with him, she would have laughed her amusement and called him a fool.
"I've thought similar things upon many a hungover morning."
Le Roi was quite right.
Lawrence directed his gaze to one of the shop's few wooden windows. The light that entered through it gave evidence that the sun would soon be setting. "I prefer to get the most unpleasant business sorted out first, personally."
The Delink Company's business was not constrained by the church's bells, and more than anything else, Lawrence did not wish to go to bed that night dreading a visit to the Delink Company the next day.
But Le Roi's answer was quick. "Is that so? I myself always eat my favorite food first."
Lawrence looked across the table at Le Roi, whose round face wore that irritating smile of his. It seemed merchants like Le Roi were happiest when dealing with the most difficult opponents.
"Oh, by the way," Lawrence said as something occurred to him. "If I hadn't agreed to talk to the Delink Company, what would you have done?"
Given that their agreement had been struck, there did not seem to be any harm in asking. But Le Roi made an uncomfortable face and pulled his chin in.
It was possible that he would have been in a bind, unable to do anything at all, but in the end it was Philon, watching the conversation from outside, who answered.


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

Input:
This was a money order.
"I quite agree. And then we needn't worry about one another running off with the money on the way," said Le Roi, a bit of self-mockery in his tone. It was true, though, that such security was another nice feature of money orders.
Money orders could only be written between companies with standing agreements and had no value in the hands of illiterate bandits. If either Le Roi or Lawrence wanted to betray the other and cash the order, a proviso could be added that would prevent such a situation.
"The problem is whether such a large money order can actually be cashed. We'll be in a bind if we travel all the way out there, only to find we can't turn it back into coin."
That was indeed the problem. Money orders were a convenient tool, but they were imperfect.
If the company in Kieschen to whom the order was written refused to exchange the money order certificate for coin, Lawrence and Le Roi would have traveled all that way with nothing but a scrap of paper to show for it. What if Kieschen were experiencing a similar money supply problem to what Lenos was now facing? Even if the company wanted to honor the money order, they might well be unable to.
Despite the existence of money orders, there were some stubborn merchants who insisted on cash, despite the dangers, because they had witnessed precisely such unlucky situations.
And the larger the amount of money, the harder to ignore such risks became.
"On that count, we can hope to get confirmation from the Delink Company. But in order to spread the risk around, it seems like having the order split up among several companies would be good. If Kieschen is close to Endima, we could also include some companies in the capital. The Delink Company ought to have relationships with many of them, after all."
"You're quite right. It seems we're in agreement on the broad strokes of this plan, Mr. Lawrence." Le Roi seemed to confirm his understanding, but it was important to make that confirmation itself clear, lest something unfortunate happen later. It was all too easy to see confusion arising when those who trusted only coin and those who trusted only certificates shook hands in agreement.
And it was not a matter of logic that was to be trusted. More important was experience, which often transcended pure reason.
"I once thought in all seriousness that I would never again involve myself with the Delink Company." Lawrence still felt that they lived in different worlds.
When Lawrence thought of the Delink Company or of Eve, it summoned within him a strange combination of envy and despair. If Holo had been with him, she would have laughed her amusement and called him a fool.
"I've thought similar things upon many a hungover morning."
Le Roi was quite right.
Lawrence directed his gaze to one of the shop's few wooden windows. The light that entered through it gave evidence that the sun would soon be setting. "I prefer to get the most unpleasant business sorted out first, personally."
The Delink Company's business was not constrained by the church's bells, and more than anything else, Lawrence did not wish to go to bed that night dreading a visit to the Delink Company the next day.
But Le Roi's answer was quick. "Is that so? I myself always eat my favorite food first."
Lawrence looked across the table at Le Roi, whose round face wore that irritating smile of his. It seemed merchants like Le Roi were happiest when dealing with the most difficult opponents.
"Oh, by the way," Lawrence said as something occurred to him. "If I hadn't agreed to talk to the Delink Company, what would you have done?"
Given that their agreement had been struck, there did not seem to be any harm in asking. But Le Roi made an uncomfortable face and pulled his chin in.
It was possible that he would have been in a bind, unable to do anything at all, but in the end it was Philon, watching the conversation from outside, who answered.

Output:
Despite being similarly simple, this shop was clearly very different from Philon's. It was decorated in small ways, and the stonework was so precise that one could not fit a hair between the seams.
In a depressingly long row of magnificent trading houses, this one was in no way insufficient.
It was terribly silent inside the Delink Company, and the feeling was so overwhelming that even the clamor from outside seemed to shrink away from the aura.
"What a happy development, that you'd finally take me up on my offer of wine," said Luz Eringin with a low smile.
The Delink Company was somewhat unusual in that it had four masters of equal rank. But the other three seemed to be out on other business, so in this large room, with its four great chairs, Eringin was the only one sitting.
"And I see you've brought a friend."
Of all the people Lawrence knew, Eringin was probably in the top three in terms of people he would never wish to introduce a friend to. Eringin himself was certainly aware that this was how he was viewed by others and, if anything, seemed to enjoy it.
He chuckled at his own words. "Do have a seat," he said, gesturing that Lawrence and Le Roi should sit.
The chairs were magnificent; if Lawrence were the master of his own company, he would never let customers sit in their like. The one Le Roi sat in did not so much as creak under his considerable weight.
"I notice that you're alone today."
When dealing with someone who had an overwhelming advantage, it was usually best to be as direct as possible. When the difference in power was so clear, the more conversation there was, the more such disadvantage could be exploited. This was why wise men stayed silent—with every word spoken, it became that much more difficult to remain a wise man.
But Lawrence's nerves had gotten the better of him, and before he knew it, he had opened with small talk.
"Indeed. We don't normally gather except to make a 'purchase.' As a rule, we only allow people we know into this room."
"I'm honored, then."
At Lawrence's words, Eringin shifted upon the table, the overlapping thumbs of his clasped hands exchanging positions. "There's no need to feel honored. I've heard about what happened in Kerube," he said, speaking without betraying any attempt to intimidate.
It was as though he were saying, We know all about you, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Eringin smiled and continued.
"All it takes for men like us to live on is to adhere to a few simple principles. One of those is to know everything we can about the individuals with whom we share a connection. When it comes time to expand our business, we simply follow that connection."
If Holo had been there, Lawrence was certain she would have stepped on his foot or kicked his leg. They had started with small talk but had somehow arrived at the real business at hand.
Eringin's words were meant to imply that because Lawrence was a man known to him, he was willing to listen.
"Heh. Seems you decided not to show your fangs today, though," said Eringin. He looked at Lawrence, who had realized just how he was being led around, and smiled an amused smile. "Have more confidence, Mr. Lawrence. You surprised us once before, and you survived that woman's plans. Moreover, I hear that once you arrived downriver, you rather brilliantly got your revenge. It would be incorrect of you to either underestimate yourself or overestimate us. The only difference between us is the choice of weapons."
Compliments were cheap. Bowing in response to a compliment given was also cheap. No doubt Le Roi would readily agree to this common merchant's rule.
And yet, the man before him had been called "sir" by a town official and was clearly someone whose favor was dearly sought. He undoubtedly took pride in the weight of his words and actions.
"My thanks to you for saying so," said Lawrence, giving not a merchant's smile but an honest one.
Eringin's eyes narrowed. "Now, then. Tell me your business."


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

Input:
Despite being similarly simple, this shop was clearly very different from Philon's. It was decorated in small ways, and the stonework was so precise that one could not fit a hair between the seams.
In a depressingly long row of magnificent trading houses, this one was in no way insufficient.
It was terribly silent inside the Delink Company, and the feeling was so overwhelming that even the clamor from outside seemed to shrink away from the aura.
"What a happy development, that you'd finally take me up on my offer of wine," said Luz Eringin with a low smile.
The Delink Company was somewhat unusual in that it had four masters of equal rank. But the other three seemed to be out on other business, so in this large room, with its four great chairs, Eringin was the only one sitting.
"And I see you've brought a friend."
Of all the people Lawrence knew, Eringin was probably in the top three in terms of people he would never wish to introduce a friend to. Eringin himself was certainly aware that this was how he was viewed by others and, if anything, seemed to enjoy it.
He chuckled at his own words. "Do have a seat," he said, gesturing that Lawrence and Le Roi should sit.
The chairs were magnificent; if Lawrence were the master of his own company, he would never let customers sit in their like. The one Le Roi sat in did not so much as creak under his considerable weight.
"I notice that you're alone today."
When dealing with someone who had an overwhelming advantage, it was usually best to be as direct as possible. When the difference in power was so clear, the more conversation there was, the more such disadvantage could be exploited. This was why wise men stayed silent—with every word spoken, it became that much more difficult to remain a wise man.
But Lawrence's nerves had gotten the better of him, and before he knew it, he had opened with small talk.
"Indeed. We don't normally gather except to make a 'purchase.' As a rule, we only allow people we know into this room."
"I'm honored, then."
At Lawrence's words, Eringin shifted upon the table, the overlapping thumbs of his clasped hands exchanging positions. "There's no need to feel honored. I've heard about what happened in Kerube," he said, speaking without betraying any attempt to intimidate.
It was as though he were saying, We know all about you, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Eringin smiled and continued.
"All it takes for men like us to live on is to adhere to a few simple principles. One of those is to know everything we can about the individuals with whom we share a connection. When it comes time to expand our business, we simply follow that connection."
If Holo had been there, Lawrence was certain she would have stepped on his foot or kicked his leg. They had started with small talk but had somehow arrived at the real business at hand.
Eringin's words were meant to imply that because Lawrence was a man known to him, he was willing to listen.
"Heh. Seems you decided not to show your fangs today, though," said Eringin. He looked at Lawrence, who had realized just how he was being led around, and smiled an amused smile. "Have more confidence, Mr. Lawrence. You surprised us once before, and you survived that woman's plans. Moreover, I hear that once you arrived downriver, you rather brilliantly got your revenge. It would be incorrect of you to either underestimate yourself or overestimate us. The only difference between us is the choice of weapons."
Compliments were cheap. Bowing in response to a compliment given was also cheap. No doubt Le Roi would readily agree to this common merchant's rule.
And yet, the man before him had been called "sir" by a town official and was clearly someone whose favor was dearly sought. He undoubtedly took pride in the weight of his words and actions.
"My thanks to you for saying so," said Lawrence, giving not a merchant's smile but an honest one.
Eringin's eyes narrowed. "Now, then. Tell me your business."

Output:
The bookseller straightened and took a deep breath.
"A forbidden book of knowledge?" Eringin repeated briefly, his eyes fixed closely on Le Roi.
The man who wielded joviality as a weapon allowed himself to now, for once, become serious. "I believe it is a copy of a book that was banned thirty-four years ago at the second Remenon Ecumenical Council. The original was burned. The author was confined, and that's where the official record ends. Among booksellers like me, there's a rumor that an apprentice of his escaped with a rough draft of the book and made a copy. But there's been no way to verify that, and I've heard of countless swindlers using the story to their own ends."
The existence of secret copies or annotations of books was a common tactic among swindlers. Col had been snared by one and had ended up having to flee the academic center of Aquent.
"But this time is different?"
"Yes. As I've just explained." Le Roi had smoothly and efficiently relayed the story, from the discovery at the abbey to the letter from the friend in the acting troupe.
The explanation was, in a way, too smooth, but whether Le Roi was telling the truth or not, his passion was obvious.
"Mr. Lawrence, you've no notion of how much of this story is true. Correct?"
"Yes."
"Given the particulars, it ought to be regarded with suspicion. For you to make this introduction...you understand what that means, do you not?"
Lawrence nodded in response to Eringin's slightly wry way of speaking. "I've heard from sources I trust of this man's tenacity."
Of course, this was of Le Roi's tenacity when it came to his quick wits and cheap shots, but generously interpreted they spoke of his strength when pursuing his goals, as well.
Eringin cocked his head and smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes.
Le Roi's face was severe, and he wiped sweat from it nervously.
"This isn't about money, is it?" Eringin closed his eyes and nodded his head forward slightly, as though searching his memory. No doubt he was thinking of what had happened the day of the rioting in Lenos. Lawrence had kicked aside the vast profit Eve promised him and returned to this very shop—to retrieve Holo.
"I am deeply attached to the northlands," said Le Roi evasively.
Eringin bared his teeth. It was a smile of impatience. "For someone who does business like mine, that's a terrible thing to hear."
Philon had refused to deal with the Delink precisely because they were slave traders.
Mercenaries made their living in two main ways: plunder and slave selling. Salary did not enter into their calculations. It was not guaranteed, and even if they did receive one, it would be tiny at first. But the reason they continued to fight for their masters was for the promise of plunder.
Though it was a very roundabout way, Lawrence had introduced Le Roi to this company because he thought it would help the northlands. But the Delink Company stood to earn a great deal from the unrest that the schemes of the Debau Company would wreak upon those lands.
Lawrence could not even begin to imagine how many people would be captured and sold into slavery or see their village burned to the ground.
"But let us leave such agonizing to the philosophers and righteousness to the clergy. Our role is to fill the needs of others. So my question to you is: Whose need are you fulfilling, Mr. Le Roi?"
The negotiation had taken a step forward.
Le Roi cleared his throat and answered. "There is a man, Lord Nicholas of the Raondille duchy. If a book is not forbidden, he...he has no lust for it."
Eringin chuckled silently at the choice of words and thumped his chest with his closed fist, as though trying to cough. Given that he was a slaver, perhaps he was remembering a difficult-to-fill request from a customer. "Ahem. Apologies. You were saying, this Sir Nicholas."
"Yes."


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

Input:
The bookseller straightened and took a deep breath.
"A forbidden book of knowledge?" Eringin repeated briefly, his eyes fixed closely on Le Roi.
The man who wielded joviality as a weapon allowed himself to now, for once, become serious. "I believe it is a copy of a book that was banned thirty-four years ago at the second Remenon Ecumenical Council. The original was burned. The author was confined, and that's where the official record ends. Among booksellers like me, there's a rumor that an apprentice of his escaped with a rough draft of the book and made a copy. But there's been no way to verify that, and I've heard of countless swindlers using the story to their own ends."
The existence of secret copies or annotations of books was a common tactic among swindlers. Col had been snared by one and had ended up having to flee the academic center of Aquent.
"But this time is different?"
"Yes. As I've just explained." Le Roi had smoothly and efficiently relayed the story, from the discovery at the abbey to the letter from the friend in the acting troupe.
The explanation was, in a way, too smooth, but whether Le Roi was telling the truth or not, his passion was obvious.
"Mr. Lawrence, you've no notion of how much of this story is true. Correct?"
"Yes."
"Given the particulars, it ought to be regarded with suspicion. For you to make this introduction...you understand what that means, do you not?"
Lawrence nodded in response to Eringin's slightly wry way of speaking. "I've heard from sources I trust of this man's tenacity."
Of course, this was of Le Roi's tenacity when it came to his quick wits and cheap shots, but generously interpreted they spoke of his strength when pursuing his goals, as well.
Eringin cocked his head and smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes.
Le Roi's face was severe, and he wiped sweat from it nervously.
"This isn't about money, is it?" Eringin closed his eyes and nodded his head forward slightly, as though searching his memory. No doubt he was thinking of what had happened the day of the rioting in Lenos. Lawrence had kicked aside the vast profit Eve promised him and returned to this very shop—to retrieve Holo.
"I am deeply attached to the northlands," said Le Roi evasively.
Eringin bared his teeth. It was a smile of impatience. "For someone who does business like mine, that's a terrible thing to hear."
Philon had refused to deal with the Delink precisely because they were slave traders.
Mercenaries made their living in two main ways: plunder and slave selling. Salary did not enter into their calculations. It was not guaranteed, and even if they did receive one, it would be tiny at first. But the reason they continued to fight for their masters was for the promise of plunder.
Though it was a very roundabout way, Lawrence had introduced Le Roi to this company because he thought it would help the northlands. But the Delink Company stood to earn a great deal from the unrest that the schemes of the Debau Company would wreak upon those lands.
Lawrence could not even begin to imagine how many people would be captured and sold into slavery or see their village burned to the ground.
"But let us leave such agonizing to the philosophers and righteousness to the clergy. Our role is to fill the needs of others. So my question to you is: Whose need are you fulfilling, Mr. Le Roi?"
The negotiation had taken a step forward.
Le Roi cleared his throat and answered. "There is a man, Lord Nicholas of the Raondille duchy. If a book is not forbidden, he...he has no lust for it."
Eringin chuckled silently at the choice of words and thumped his chest with his closed fist, as though trying to cough. Given that he was a slaver, perhaps he was remembering a difficult-to-fill request from a customer. "Ahem. Apologies. You were saying, this Sir Nicholas."
"Yes."

Output:
Le Roi was summoning the energy to explain further, but Eringin stopped him with a hand. He did not seem especially interested in the question of the individual's existence.
So what was it that he was asking? They could emphasize the veracity of their information as much as they wanted, but if he was not going to hear the explanations, then what was his intention?
Lawrence's heart was filled with genuine curiosity.
Eringin asked an insightful question. "How much profit do you expect to make?"
Merchants were fundamentally motivated by their own profit. Which meant this was exactly the question to ask.
In making up a plan, one's footing had to be solid. And there was no merchant who failed to consider profit. What was interesting was that even the most coolheaded merchant found it hard to stay calm when it came time to estimate the amount of profit to be had. And so, that profit was sometimes extremely overestimated or deeply underestimated.
Lawrence had been taught the larger the deal, the greater the gap between the prediction and the realized profit could be—because no matter how much they might struggle against it, there was a limit to how coolheaded a person could stay, his master had said.
If Le Roi had some other nefarious plan in his mind, he would surely claim a suspicious amount.
Someone trying to make a plan to turn a profit would overestimate their profit, and someone who was making a plan to lie would overestimate their plan.
But the liar would believe their own lie and would not overestimate their profit.
"In lumione gold," said Le Roi matter-of-factly, "I expect to sell it for one hundred and twenty pieces."
"I've heard the mantle of the Queen of Alain was about that much."
Eringin was asking what the basis for this figure was.
"This marketplace is filled with pride and supposition, but from what I've learned, the alchemist Aran Mihail's The Heart of Gods and Iron sold for a hundred lumione. I do not think this will fetch less than that."
It was an unbelievable sum for a mere book.
But considering it objectively, it seemed terribly likely that the collection of absurd items would lead some individuals to aim for the collection of absurd profits.
Eringin gave Le Roi an unblinking gaze. When his eyes finally closed, Le Roi exhaled his held breath.
"And the value of the book you've brought as collateral?"
"If you show it to a first-rate bookseller, you'll easily get thirty gold pieces."
Le Roi had set the book down on the table at the beginning of the conversation. It was large, but the binding was very plain, and seemed that even if it were decorating some large bookshelf, it would probably be filling some gap on the bottom shelf.
It did not seem to Lawrence like it could be so valuable, but such an amount of money would put his dream of opening a shop in a town much closer. He knew perfectly well that there was always a bigger fish, but sometimes there were too many big fish.
Eringin did not so much as nod but rang a small bell that was on the table. At the sound, a door to the room opened silently and a single boy entered, who drew close to his master's ear. At length, Eringin nodded, and the boy gave a deep bow, then left the room.
"I can lend you eighty lumione. That will be enough, I trust?"
Le Roi drew a shallow breath and almost whimpered. "That will be enough."
"However, regardless of whether your purchase goes well or not, we're charging a commission of twenty lumione."
It was marginally less than the worth of the collateral. It meant that even if they failed in their purchase, they would be left enough to use as travel money to return south.
"And there's a condition."
"Wha—!" Le Roi was not surprised so much as he was overly willing to accommodate.


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

Input:
Le Roi was summoning the energy to explain further, but Eringin stopped him with a hand. He did not seem especially interested in the question of the individual's existence.
So what was it that he was asking? They could emphasize the veracity of their information as much as they wanted, but if he was not going to hear the explanations, then what was his intention?
Lawrence's heart was filled with genuine curiosity.
Eringin asked an insightful question. "How much profit do you expect to make?"
Merchants were fundamentally motivated by their own profit. Which meant this was exactly the question to ask.
In making up a plan, one's footing had to be solid. And there was no merchant who failed to consider profit. What was interesting was that even the most coolheaded merchant found it hard to stay calm when it came time to estimate the amount of profit to be had. And so, that profit was sometimes extremely overestimated or deeply underestimated.
Lawrence had been taught the larger the deal, the greater the gap between the prediction and the realized profit could be—because no matter how much they might struggle against it, there was a limit to how coolheaded a person could stay, his master had said.
If Le Roi had some other nefarious plan in his mind, he would surely claim a suspicious amount.
Someone trying to make a plan to turn a profit would overestimate their profit, and someone who was making a plan to lie would overestimate their plan.
But the liar would believe their own lie and would not overestimate their profit.
"In lumione gold," said Le Roi matter-of-factly, "I expect to sell it for one hundred and twenty pieces."
"I've heard the mantle of the Queen of Alain was about that much."
Eringin was asking what the basis for this figure was.
"This marketplace is filled with pride and supposition, but from what I've learned, the alchemist Aran Mihail's The Heart of Gods and Iron sold for a hundred lumione. I do not think this will fetch less than that."
It was an unbelievable sum for a mere book.
But considering it objectively, it seemed terribly likely that the collection of absurd items would lead some individuals to aim for the collection of absurd profits.
Eringin gave Le Roi an unblinking gaze. When his eyes finally closed, Le Roi exhaled his held breath.
"And the value of the book you've brought as collateral?"
"If you show it to a first-rate bookseller, you'll easily get thirty gold pieces."
Le Roi had set the book down on the table at the beginning of the conversation. It was large, but the binding was very plain, and seemed that even if it were decorating some large bookshelf, it would probably be filling some gap on the bottom shelf.
It did not seem to Lawrence like it could be so valuable, but such an amount of money would put his dream of opening a shop in a town much closer. He knew perfectly well that there was always a bigger fish, but sometimes there were too many big fish.
Eringin did not so much as nod but rang a small bell that was on the table. At the sound, a door to the room opened silently and a single boy entered, who drew close to his master's ear. At length, Eringin nodded, and the boy gave a deep bow, then left the room.
"I can lend you eighty lumione. That will be enough, I trust?"
Le Roi drew a shallow breath and almost whimpered. "That will be enough."
"However, regardless of whether your purchase goes well or not, we're charging a commission of twenty lumione."
It was marginally less than the worth of the collateral. It meant that even if they failed in their purchase, they would be left enough to use as travel money to return south.
"And there's a condition."
"Wha—!" Le Roi was not surprised so much as he was overly willing to accommodate.

Output:
It was an expected condition.
Eringin spoke as though he was offering a prayer to God asking for good fortune, but in actuality there was nothing but realistic practicality in his words. By basing the loan on what Lawrence saw and heard, it placed the burden of responsibility firmly on Lawrence.
If Le Roi were planning something dishonest, or failed terribly and lost the loaned amount, the blame would fall to Lawrence.
But the moment he heard those words, it was a different emotion that arose within him.
"Any complaints?" Eringin asked, looking at Lawrence a bit curiously.
"Not at all," Lawrence hastily replied. He had realized that he was deeply discouraged.
Unbelievably, he had subconsciously been holding onto the ridiculous hope that they would be rejected here, which would have let him travel north, albeit with some regrets. He was nervous, and he could tell his knees were trembling at the pressure.
He nearly laughed out loud at his own foolishness.
"Still, it'll be a tiresome journey all the way out there and back, so I'll send someone with you," said Eringin as he rang the bell again. A different boy soon entered the room. "We'll issue a money order to several companies we deal with there, with a proviso that all three of you must be there to collect the coin."
It was a perfectly reasonable condition, one that ensured nobody could betray anyone else.
Eringin gave the boy instructions in a quiet voice, and the boy quickly withdrew.
"Ah, that's right. It may be pointless to say so, but the man I'm sending with you has my utmost trust. And the companies in Kieschen where you'll redeem the money order all have large debts to us."
Threatening the attendant was pointless. And trying to escape with the purchased book would also be pointless, since the companies in Kieschen would be watching. That Eringin could say all this with such a smile was the greatest threat of all.
"Still," continued Eringin. With the negotiation concluded, the atmosphere had relaxed somewhat and Le Roi wiped his face again—he was sweating so much it seemed like he would melt. It was very like the master of the Delink Company to make one final surprise attack. "When you refer to the company in Kieschen, do you mean them?"
In negotiations like these, it was customary not to reveal one's purchasing destination until the very end.
Le Roi froze in his chair disbelievingly.
Eringin's smile was more terrifying than any mercenary's. "The master there has a great fondness for the desert nations." It would not be strange for the sort of collector who was fond of such books to also be a slaver's customer. All the more so if he had eccentric tastes. "I've introduced him to many lovely dark-skinned ladies. So...he's the one, eh?"
The only reason Lawrence was able to remain calm was because, in a certain sense, this deal had nothing to do with him. Otherwise, he would have been sweating waterfalls just like Le Roi was next to him.
"Oh, worry not." Eringin's voice was quiet. "It's our custom to leave unfamiliar business in the hands of those better suited to it."
One could say whatever one wanted. But nothing could begin without trust.
Slavers traded in people who were brought to them filled with pain and fear, or at the very least anger and hatred.
One could not help but commend such a magnificent ability.
With negotiations completed, Eringin shook the hand of each man and invited them both to dinner.
Le Roi looked as though, were he to endure his anxiety any longer, he would die, and Lawrence had his own doubts about being able to eat with them and keep his food down.
So they made their apologies, and Eringin looked as deeply disappointed as ever. It was hard to know how much of that was an act, but it was possible that he truly was disappointed.
Eringin and a servant boy saw them out, and Lawrence and Le Roi left the shop. It was long since dark outside.


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

Input:
It was an expected condition.
Eringin spoke as though he was offering a prayer to God asking for good fortune, but in actuality there was nothing but realistic practicality in his words. By basing the loan on what Lawrence saw and heard, it placed the burden of responsibility firmly on Lawrence.
If Le Roi were planning something dishonest, or failed terribly and lost the loaned amount, the blame would fall to Lawrence.
But the moment he heard those words, it was a different emotion that arose within him.
"Any complaints?" Eringin asked, looking at Lawrence a bit curiously.
"Not at all," Lawrence hastily replied. He had realized that he was deeply discouraged.
Unbelievably, he had subconsciously been holding onto the ridiculous hope that they would be rejected here, which would have let him travel north, albeit with some regrets. He was nervous, and he could tell his knees were trembling at the pressure.
He nearly laughed out loud at his own foolishness.
"Still, it'll be a tiresome journey all the way out there and back, so I'll send someone with you," said Eringin as he rang the bell again. A different boy soon entered the room. "We'll issue a money order to several companies we deal with there, with a proviso that all three of you must be there to collect the coin."
It was a perfectly reasonable condition, one that ensured nobody could betray anyone else.
Eringin gave the boy instructions in a quiet voice, and the boy quickly withdrew.
"Ah, that's right. It may be pointless to say so, but the man I'm sending with you has my utmost trust. And the companies in Kieschen where you'll redeem the money order all have large debts to us."
Threatening the attendant was pointless. And trying to escape with the purchased book would also be pointless, since the companies in Kieschen would be watching. That Eringin could say all this with such a smile was the greatest threat of all.
"Still," continued Eringin. With the negotiation concluded, the atmosphere had relaxed somewhat and Le Roi wiped his face again—he was sweating so much it seemed like he would melt. It was very like the master of the Delink Company to make one final surprise attack. "When you refer to the company in Kieschen, do you mean them?"
In negotiations like these, it was customary not to reveal one's purchasing destination until the very end.
Le Roi froze in his chair disbelievingly.
Eringin's smile was more terrifying than any mercenary's. "The master there has a great fondness for the desert nations." It would not be strange for the sort of collector who was fond of such books to also be a slaver's customer. All the more so if he had eccentric tastes. "I've introduced him to many lovely dark-skinned ladies. So...he's the one, eh?"
The only reason Lawrence was able to remain calm was because, in a certain sense, this deal had nothing to do with him. Otherwise, he would have been sweating waterfalls just like Le Roi was next to him.
"Oh, worry not." Eringin's voice was quiet. "It's our custom to leave unfamiliar business in the hands of those better suited to it."
One could say whatever one wanted. But nothing could begin without trust.
Slavers traded in people who were brought to them filled with pain and fear, or at the very least anger and hatred.
One could not help but commend such a magnificent ability.
With negotiations completed, Eringin shook the hand of each man and invited them both to dinner.
Le Roi looked as though, were he to endure his anxiety any longer, he would die, and Lawrence had his own doubts about being able to eat with them and keep his food down.
So they made their apologies, and Eringin looked as deeply disappointed as ever. It was hard to know how much of that was an act, but it was possible that he truly was disappointed.
Eringin and a servant boy saw them out, and Lawrence and Le Roi left the shop. It was long since dark outside.

Output:
"...Surely no marquis or count could be so terrible," were the first words out of Le Roi's mouth.
"Well, the town officials call him 'sir.'"
"If a man like him had a formal title, he'd rule the country. What a horrifying thought."
Le Roi was sweating as though he really was horrified. Seeing this, Lawrence wondered if he himself had above-average courage, but doubted it was so. According to Holo, it was simple thickheadedness.
"But we've made the deal."
On that count, at least, there was no mistake. Lawrence took the hand Le Roi offered and shook it firmly. The opportunity they had just negotiated was of a life-changing scale.
"I may not be worth much, but I'll do what I can," offered Lawrence.
"Ha-ha-ha! What are you saying? If you hadn't been there with me, I would've suffocated! I'll be borrowing your knowledge, too. I'm paying you three hundred silver pieces, after all!"
Lawrence got the feeling that Le Roi was reminding him he had been paid a sum just to make an introduction, but Lawrence naturally did not find this cause for anger. It was the sort of thing any merchant could expect to do, after all.
"Now then, let's go somewhere to celebrate! My throat is dry from nerves."
It was an attractive proposition, but Lawrence was thinking about Holo and the others. "I'm sorry, but...," he began.
But this was Le Roi, he of easy charm and affability. The man soon understood and pulled back. "Ah, of course. Well, it's not like we won't be sleeping and eating together quite a lot soon enough. Perhaps we'll avoid quarreling if we don't see each other's face too much until then," he said with a guffaw.
Lawrence could only smile a wry smile.
But when they parted with a handshake, it was firmer than their first had been. "Well then, I bid you good night!" boomed Le Roi and walked off.
Lawrence replied with a wave and headed for his own destination. He only got a few steps, though, before he stopped short in surprise.
"You—" Lawrence murmured, for before him had staggeringly appeared a deeply displeased Holo, her face distorted with emotion. The word staggering was no figure of speech, either—Holo had indeed staggered before him, her arms clasped around herself as she shivered.
"Don't tell me...were you there the whole time?"
"..." Holo did not answer. She tried to nod but was too cold to manage it properly.
Lawrence realized that her expression of displeasure was simply a result of how cold she was. "Ah well, anyway, let's get into a shop somewhere—and anyway, what were you doing out in this cold?"
He took off his coat and wrapped it around Holo's shoulders. Her robe was as cold as though water had been poured on it, and Holo was shivering slightly. "I-I thought you might be deceived, and I..."
"You were worried about me? That doesn't mean you should stand outside..."
Lawrence could not help but find her ability to insult him in such a moment rather impressive. But he set aside the question of whether to laugh or roll his eyes and instead put his hand on her slim shoulders, which were now covered by his coat.
Fortunately Eringin's building was filled with fireplaces that were well stocked with wood, so the coat was already nice and warm. Lawrence peered at her and saw that Holo's profile was beginning to thaw into something less alarming.
"Ah, there's a stall there. Wait just a bit."
Holo nodded obediently at Lawrence's words and huddled next to the trading company's window, through the wooden shutter of which a bit of lamplight leaked.
Lawrence looked back at her once. She was bitterly downcast. "I swear," he murmured and quickly ordered some strong wine from the stall. "Here, drink."
The stall sold wine that was well suited to the cold season in a cold land. Holo took the cup from Lawrence, put it to her lips, and squeezed her eyes closed.


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

Input:
"...Surely no marquis or count could be so terrible," were the first words out of Le Roi's mouth.
"Well, the town officials call him 'sir.'"
"If a man like him had a formal title, he'd rule the country. What a horrifying thought."
Le Roi was sweating as though he really was horrified. Seeing this, Lawrence wondered if he himself had above-average courage, but doubted it was so. According to Holo, it was simple thickheadedness.
"But we've made the deal."
On that count, at least, there was no mistake. Lawrence took the hand Le Roi offered and shook it firmly. The opportunity they had just negotiated was of a life-changing scale.
"I may not be worth much, but I'll do what I can," offered Lawrence.
"Ha-ha-ha! What are you saying? If you hadn't been there with me, I would've suffocated! I'll be borrowing your knowledge, too. I'm paying you three hundred silver pieces, after all!"
Lawrence got the feeling that Le Roi was reminding him he had been paid a sum just to make an introduction, but Lawrence naturally did not find this cause for anger. It was the sort of thing any merchant could expect to do, after all.
"Now then, let's go somewhere to celebrate! My throat is dry from nerves."
It was an attractive proposition, but Lawrence was thinking about Holo and the others. "I'm sorry, but...," he began.
But this was Le Roi, he of easy charm and affability. The man soon understood and pulled back. "Ah, of course. Well, it's not like we won't be sleeping and eating together quite a lot soon enough. Perhaps we'll avoid quarreling if we don't see each other's face too much until then," he said with a guffaw.
Lawrence could only smile a wry smile.
But when they parted with a handshake, it was firmer than their first had been. "Well then, I bid you good night!" boomed Le Roi and walked off.
Lawrence replied with a wave and headed for his own destination. He only got a few steps, though, before he stopped short in surprise.
"You—" Lawrence murmured, for before him had staggeringly appeared a deeply displeased Holo, her face distorted with emotion. The word staggering was no figure of speech, either—Holo had indeed staggered before him, her arms clasped around herself as she shivered.
"Don't tell me...were you there the whole time?"
"..." Holo did not answer. She tried to nod but was too cold to manage it properly.
Lawrence realized that her expression of displeasure was simply a result of how cold she was. "Ah well, anyway, let's get into a shop somewhere—and anyway, what were you doing out in this cold?"
He took off his coat and wrapped it around Holo's shoulders. Her robe was as cold as though water had been poured on it, and Holo was shivering slightly. "I-I thought you might be deceived, and I..."
"You were worried about me? That doesn't mean you should stand outside..."
Lawrence could not help but find her ability to insult him in such a moment rather impressive. But he set aside the question of whether to laugh or roll his eyes and instead put his hand on her slim shoulders, which were now covered by his coat.
Fortunately Eringin's building was filled with fireplaces that were well stocked with wood, so the coat was already nice and warm. Lawrence peered at her and saw that Holo's profile was beginning to thaw into something less alarming.
"Ah, there's a stall there. Wait just a bit."
Holo nodded obediently at Lawrence's words and huddled next to the trading company's window, through the wooden shutter of which a bit of lamplight leaked.
Lawrence looked back at her once. She was bitterly downcast. "I swear," he murmured and quickly ordered some strong wine from the stall. "Here, drink."
The stall sold wine that was well suited to the cold season in a cold land. Holo took the cup from Lawrence, put it to her lips, and squeezed her eyes closed.

Output:
"Not too much!" said Lawrence, trying to grab the cup away as Holo immediately went for a third drink. But his hand stopped before it ever reached the cup.
Lawrence's gaze went from Holo's chest up to her face.
"Is that...," he started, and Holo took her third drink as though she was trying to escape.
She exhaled a second puff of breath, and she finally smiled a Holo-like smile as the color returned to her face. "I'm a fool, aren't I?" she asked, referring to her drinking more wine after already being drunk.
If he had demanded an explanation, he surely would have gotten one. Holo held the cup in both hands but with her arms pressed tightly to her sides. Even if that was partially due to the cold, there was another truer reason.
She was holding something there, the outline of it just visible in what lamplight came through the window shutter.
"They arrived a bit after you went out. But...," began Holo, handing Lawrence her cup and producing the items from under her arm. There were two sealed letters, one of which was significantly larger than the other. As though a map might have been drawn on it.
"This is what you searched for on my behalf. It didn't seem right for just me and Col to look at them. To say nothing of that blockhead." Her tone was sharp, but her face smiled drunkenly. She was probably embarrassed that she could not hide her happiness.
Holo had stood outside, shivering like a fool, just to freeze that foolish grin into her face.
"I thought," said Holo, looking up, "that it would be fitting to look at it with you."
It was partially the wine's effect, but Holo's face in the firelight looked like roasted honey candy. Lawrence reached out to her with his empty hand. He caressed her left cheek with his thumb, as though putting her face's soft curve back into place.
Even if she had made the logical decision regarding how to make for Yoitsu, evidently that did not mean all her subsequent decisions would be made using logic. Which was what had led to her amusingly foolish notion to venture out and wait for him in this freezing midwinter weather.
"You are quite the fool, yes."
Holo flashed her fangs, and her breath puffed whitely past them. Lawrence gave her a full, but light, embrace, then pulled back.
"You haven't opened them yet?"
"I did hold them up to the sun many times, trying to see through."
She did not want to open them but desperately wanted to see the contents. Lawrence imagined her trying to resolve this terrible conflict by holding the letters up to the sun—a tactic more suited to a foolish puppy than a clever wisewolf.
Lawrence patted her head. "Who should open them?"
"Me."
Of course, Lawrence thought to himself, but then Holo pushed the two letters in her hand at him. "...is what I would want to say, but there are two letters here. If I look at one of them, I fear I may collapse into weeping again."
Lawrence thought back to when Holo had fooled him into thinking she could not read. He had carelessly left a record of the destruction of Yoitsu where she could find it, and trouble had resulted.
Lawrence accepted the letters almost apologetically and with a pained smile. If Holo had wanted to read them he would have let her, but otherwise he did not want her exposed to them.
Her hand brushed against his and was quite cold. Somehow, he was brought to notice the contrast between her hands and Le Roi's—how small and delicate and feminine hers were.
"But the negotiations went well, did they?"
Lawrence returned the cup to Holo and was about to unseal the letters when Holo suddenly brought the other subject up.
"Weren't you listening?" Holo's ears could have heard the conversation inside the shop, Lawrence assumed.
But Holo shook her head. "I could not hear," she said, then sighed and gave him an upturned gaze. "But I know the outcome."
It was as though she were posing a riddle.