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

Input:
"From within the rows of two-story buildings come the constant sounds of laughter and lute music all day long."
Holo nodded, and without raising either her head or her gaze, she asked, "Where was the ship going?"
"The ship?"
"The one you were riding on."
"Ah, that ship was bound far south along the coast, arriving at a port town called Yordos, a place known for its skilled artisans. The ship was carrying mostly amber from the north, and the town was famous for its amber craft. It's even farther south than Pazzio, where you and I wound up running around underground, or even Pasloe, where we met. The sea is very warm there and dark."
Lawrence had been younger and more carefree then; he had owned no wagon and had been rather careless with his life as he flitted from place to place.
It didn't enter the conversation, but there was no comparison between a long sea voyage spent in a dim room below decks and a short riverboat trip.
On the voyage, he had held desperately onto the cow bladder that contained his drinking water, trying not to spill it as the boat rocked so violently that it had been impossible to even sit properly.
And with that much rocking, a poor traveling merchant—who was hardly a sailor—would soon fall prey to seasickness.
When there was nothing left in his stomach, he had vomited blood, and he had been thin and haggard by the time the boat arrived.
It was bad enough that Lawrence could scarcely believe he'd made the journey three times.
"Mm. Though I do not know this 'amber' of which you speak."
"Huh? You don't?" asked Lawrence, and Holo shot him an irritated glance.
He would have guessed that living the life of a forest god, it would be the kind of thing she would know—but then, she hadn't known about pyrite, either.
"It's tree sap that's hardened underground, and it looks just like a jewel. It's rather like...ah, yes. It looks a bit like your eyes actually."
Lawrence pointed at Holo's face, whereupon she seemed to unconsciously try to look at her own eyes. He couldn't help but laugh when she went cross-eyed.
"You did that on purpose," she said—but if that had truly been so, Holo would not have said it.
Since Lawrence could tell that she was irritated at his remark, he answered, "Well, in any case, they're like beautiful jewels."
Despite her irritation, Holo couldn't help but burst into laughter at the obvious words. "Hmph! Not bad, for you. So after you got off that ship, where did you go next?"
"Next? Next was...," began Lawrence, when a question appeared in his mind.
What could she be getting at by asking him this all of a sudden?
"You can tell me that, or you can tell me where that vixen's destination is."
Perhaps Holo thought Lawrence's hesitation was due to the vagueness of his memory.
But no—he soon realized that was not it.
It was because she was afraid of even a moment of silence—even the amount of time it took him to wonder why she was asking all this.
"Eve's destination, eh? If she's going to sell the fur to fur craftsmen, it'll be still farther south than Yordos. Probably a town named Urva."
"How much do you think she'll make?"
"Hmm...Perhaps triple...though that might be tough. If she were to turn that much profit, she'd never speak to a traveling merchant like me again, I'd wager."
At Lawrence's smile, Holo smacked him on the shoulder, her face displeased.
But their eyes did not meet.
It was as though if she looked him in the eye, she was afraid he would see her mind.

Output:
It was the path of gold every merchant had dreamed of at least once.
What made this absurd was the number of merchants who followed that path, only to have it end in martial rule.
Yet the merchants who used force on the way toward martial rule were so many that even an omnipotent god could hardly count them.
Even if Eve gained some inkling of this, there was no telling if things would go well for her.
To gain the huge profits that could be had via long-distance trade, the vessel had to arrive safely in port—and that was no mean feat.
Lawrence could not count on both hands the number of merchants he personally knew who had seen their entire fortunes literally vanish beneath the waves.
"'Tis like a path of gold leading to a nation of gold," said Holo, amused. It was not clear to what extent she realized Lawrence's story was fantastical, but from her tone, it seemed clear she understood it to be a fantasy. "Still, it does not seem that it would be so very frustrating to let the entrance to that path pass you by."
Lawrence naturally nodded at her words.
It wasn't especially frustrating.
After all, the path Lawrence wished to tread was not the path of gold.
But he couldn't help feeling that if Holo was with him, he could walk it.
Surely he could arrive at that mountain of jewels, along the path of avarice that swirled with trickery and wiles, undeceived by devils and unharmed by evil gods, pushing forward at every chance.
It would be an adventure tale worthy of the term and worthy, too, of being passed down through the centuries.
He and Holo would contest a gold transaction with a powerful merchant as their rival and bargain with the royal family of an ancient nation over purebred sheep. They might cross swords with a pirate armada or be betrayed by a trusted underling.
Lawrence wondered how much fun such adventures would be with Holo by his side.
And yet for some reason, he got the feeling that Holo wanted no part of this.
So he asked.
"Do you not wish to walk that path?"
Looking disinterested, Holo did indeed nod. "I will have to pass on your tales. 'Twould be better if such tales were fewer."
Lawrence chuckled soundlessly at her obstinacy, earning him a glare from Holo.
She was surely lying, to claim that she wished for tales to be few. What she wanted to be few were people who would tell those tales. For example, if Lawrence saw someone triumphantly talking about Holo's sleeping form, he would certainly bear said person ill will.
"Rather than talk of the path of gold, I would sooner hear of what's beyond this amber village."
Instead of tales of wild adventure, she wanted tales of a journey like the one they'd had so far.
As to why she wanted to hear something like that, the reason was obvious.
The sensation he had felt while describing the delta of Kerube—when it was put into words, he understood it immediately.
But Lawrence only shut his mouth and smiled faintly, and without saying anything else, he answered Holo's question as it was asked.
At the amber village, he would sell animal bones and teeth acquired in the north and buy up salt and salted herring before heading inland. He would go on foot, by wagon, even occasionally traveling with a caravan. He would walk plains, cross rivers, hike mountains, and wander forests. There would be injuries and sickness. Lawrence would rejoice at meeting a merchant he had heard was dead and laugh at hearing rumors of his own demise.
Holo listened to the story happily, asking her questions quietly, as if she enjoyed hearing about the vast stretches of land she had not yet seen, despite her centuries. As if surprised at the frequency of amusing incidents.
And as if imagining herself along for the journey, as a matter of course, not worthy of any particular mention.


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

Input:
It was the path of gold every merchant had dreamed of at least once.
What made this absurd was the number of merchants who followed that path, only to have it end in martial rule.
Yet the merchants who used force on the way toward martial rule were so many that even an omnipotent god could hardly count them.
Even if Eve gained some inkling of this, there was no telling if things would go well for her.
To gain the huge profits that could be had via long-distance trade, the vessel had to arrive safely in port—and that was no mean feat.
Lawrence could not count on both hands the number of merchants he personally knew who had seen their entire fortunes literally vanish beneath the waves.
"'Tis like a path of gold leading to a nation of gold," said Holo, amused. It was not clear to what extent she realized Lawrence's story was fantastical, but from her tone, it seemed clear she understood it to be a fantasy. "Still, it does not seem that it would be so very frustrating to let the entrance to that path pass you by."
Lawrence naturally nodded at her words.
It wasn't especially frustrating.
After all, the path Lawrence wished to tread was not the path of gold.
But he couldn't help feeling that if Holo was with him, he could walk it.
Surely he could arrive at that mountain of jewels, along the path of avarice that swirled with trickery and wiles, undeceived by devils and unharmed by evil gods, pushing forward at every chance.
It would be an adventure tale worthy of the term and worthy, too, of being passed down through the centuries.
He and Holo would contest a gold transaction with a powerful merchant as their rival and bargain with the royal family of an ancient nation over purebred sheep. They might cross swords with a pirate armada or be betrayed by a trusted underling.
Lawrence wondered how much fun such adventures would be with Holo by his side.
And yet for some reason, he got the feeling that Holo wanted no part of this.
So he asked.
"Do you not wish to walk that path?"
Looking disinterested, Holo did indeed nod. "I will have to pass on your tales. 'Twould be better if such tales were fewer."
Lawrence chuckled soundlessly at her obstinacy, earning him a glare from Holo.
She was surely lying, to claim that she wished for tales to be few. What she wanted to be few were people who would tell those tales. For example, if Lawrence saw someone triumphantly talking about Holo's sleeping form, he would certainly bear said person ill will.
"Rather than talk of the path of gold, I would sooner hear of what's beyond this amber village."
Instead of tales of wild adventure, she wanted tales of a journey like the one they'd had so far.
As to why she wanted to hear something like that, the reason was obvious.
The sensation he had felt while describing the delta of Kerube—when it was put into words, he understood it immediately.
But Lawrence only shut his mouth and smiled faintly, and without saying anything else, he answered Holo's question as it was asked.
At the amber village, he would sell animal bones and teeth acquired in the north and buy up salt and salted herring before heading inland. He would go on foot, by wagon, even occasionally traveling with a caravan. He would walk plains, cross rivers, hike mountains, and wander forests. There would be injuries and sickness. Lawrence would rejoice at meeting a merchant he had heard was dead and laugh at hearing rumors of his own demise.
Holo listened to the story happily, asking her questions quietly, as if she enjoyed hearing about the vast stretches of land she had not yet seen, despite her centuries. As if surprised at the frequency of amusing incidents.
And as if imagining herself along for the journey, as a matter of course, not worthy of any particular mention.

Output:
For Holo's part, she had leaned idly against him and held his hand in her own.
The journey that Lawrence described would take two years in reality.
Perhaps the fatigue from the long journey the two had undertaken had finally reared its head.
That long journey that would never be realized.
After exchanging salt for marten fur in the mountain village, if Lawrence was to continue the tale, which village would be next?
The great wheat fields. The port town. If Lawrence was to continue, the circle of the journey would be closed, and it would continue forever.
But Holo did not press him further.
She knew that if she was to speak, to press him on, this strangely dreamlike atmosphere would be destroyed.
Lawrence wondered if Holo was regretting the trip. Or could she be reflecting on how much fun it had been?
For Lawrence it was both. He had regrets because it had been such fun.
Their travel would go no farther south than Kerube. Neither would they head west. What lay beyond that was a vast unknown world. Though it did indeed exist should they choose to set foot there, it was a world they would never enter.
"In the beginning was the word," said God.
And if the world had been created by those words—
Was Holo, who was known to some as a god, borrowing Lawrence's words to create a temporary world of her own?
Lawrence, naturally, did not ask her what she hoped to accomplish by doing so.
Holo had spent hundreds of years in the wheat fields by herself. She was well used to playing in a made-up world.
But looking at the dazed Holo, who sat there motionless, Lawrence couldn't help wondering if she would really be all right on her own after their journey was over.
According to the book in the village of Tereo, Holo's homeland had been destroyed.
It would be fortunate if after so much time, the old inhabitants of the place had returned.
But what if they hadn't?
This worried Lawrence.
When he imagined Holo, listless and alone in the moonlight of the cold, quiet mountains, it didn't seem possible that she could get by on her own.
No doubt she would feel like howling from time to time, but none were there who would answer.
But if he voiced any of these thoughts, Lawrence knew her anger would be like a raging fire, and it was obvious that she would admit none of it. And what she had to recognize above all else was that no matter how hard Lawrence might try, her loneliness would never be eased.
It would be a lie to say Lawrence did not feel powerless.
Yet he had considered all this when he had gone to collect Holo at the Delink Company.
He spoke with forced cheer; it was the least he could do. "So, what say you? Not an especially exciting journey, is it?"
Holo gave Lawrence a listless look and fixed it upon him for a time.
When she finally smiled, it may have been because she had spotted something stuck on Lawrence's face.
She sat up with exaggerated effort and spoke as though it was a great burden. "...Right you are. Still—"
"Still?"
The expression Holo made as she looked doubtfully over her shoulder might well have been a specialty of hers. "As it's such an ordinary journey, we can travel at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, without an excess of suspense."
A malicious smile.
But it wasn't Holo whose smile was malicious.
It was God up in his heaven whose intent was ill.
Before Lawrence could say anything, the expression on Holo's face disappeared, as though she had simply been enjoying a mild diversion. She turned over a page and voiced a slight exclamation. As she proudly took the paper in hand and showed it to Lawrence, there wasn't so much as a hint of the emotion from a moment ago.
A mere human like Lawrence could hardly manage such a feat.
And being a mere human, it took Lawrence a moment to regain his own composure.
Holo smiled indulgently and waited.
This was, in truth, an ordinary journey.
And peaceful, as well; Holo was close enough that he could reach out and touch her any time he wanted.


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

Input:
For Holo's part, she had leaned idly against him and held his hand in her own.
The journey that Lawrence described would take two years in reality.
Perhaps the fatigue from the long journey the two had undertaken had finally reared its head.
That long journey that would never be realized.
After exchanging salt for marten fur in the mountain village, if Lawrence was to continue the tale, which village would be next?
The great wheat fields. The port town. If Lawrence was to continue, the circle of the journey would be closed, and it would continue forever.
But Holo did not press him further.
She knew that if she was to speak, to press him on, this strangely dreamlike atmosphere would be destroyed.
Lawrence wondered if Holo was regretting the trip. Or could she be reflecting on how much fun it had been?
For Lawrence it was both. He had regrets because it had been such fun.
Their travel would go no farther south than Kerube. Neither would they head west. What lay beyond that was a vast unknown world. Though it did indeed exist should they choose to set foot there, it was a world they would never enter.
"In the beginning was the word," said God.
And if the world had been created by those words—
Was Holo, who was known to some as a god, borrowing Lawrence's words to create a temporary world of her own?
Lawrence, naturally, did not ask her what she hoped to accomplish by doing so.
Holo had spent hundreds of years in the wheat fields by herself. She was well used to playing in a made-up world.
But looking at the dazed Holo, who sat there motionless, Lawrence couldn't help wondering if she would really be all right on her own after their journey was over.
According to the book in the village of Tereo, Holo's homeland had been destroyed.
It would be fortunate if after so much time, the old inhabitants of the place had returned.
But what if they hadn't?
This worried Lawrence.
When he imagined Holo, listless and alone in the moonlight of the cold, quiet mountains, it didn't seem possible that she could get by on her own.
No doubt she would feel like howling from time to time, but none were there who would answer.
But if he voiced any of these thoughts, Lawrence knew her anger would be like a raging fire, and it was obvious that she would admit none of it. And what she had to recognize above all else was that no matter how hard Lawrence might try, her loneliness would never be eased.
It would be a lie to say Lawrence did not feel powerless.
Yet he had considered all this when he had gone to collect Holo at the Delink Company.
He spoke with forced cheer; it was the least he could do. "So, what say you? Not an especially exciting journey, is it?"
Holo gave Lawrence a listless look and fixed it upon him for a time.
When she finally smiled, it may have been because she had spotted something stuck on Lawrence's face.
She sat up with exaggerated effort and spoke as though it was a great burden. "...Right you are. Still—"
"Still?"
The expression Holo made as she looked doubtfully over her shoulder might well have been a specialty of hers. "As it's such an ordinary journey, we can travel at a leisurely pace, hand in hand, without an excess of suspense."
A malicious smile.
But it wasn't Holo whose smile was malicious.
It was God up in his heaven whose intent was ill.
Before Lawrence could say anything, the expression on Holo's face disappeared, as though she had simply been enjoying a mild diversion. She turned over a page and voiced a slight exclamation. As she proudly took the paper in hand and showed it to Lawrence, there wasn't so much as a hint of the emotion from a moment ago.
A mere human like Lawrence could hardly manage such a feat.
And being a mere human, it took Lawrence a moment to regain his own composure.
Holo smiled indulgently and waited.
This was, in truth, an ordinary journey.
And peaceful, as well; Holo was close enough that he could reach out and touch her any time he wanted.

Output:
"Hn." Holo sniffed. Lawrence couldn't help but smile at her proud manner, as though she'd discovered a treasure map.
He just couldn't match her.
"And yes, it looks like they exported sixteen chests. So this...no...is it...?"
As Lawrence compared the paper to other export lists, he was soon submerged in thought.
A fragile bubble of a dream rose within his mind; he wanted to seal it away in the deepest corner.
It was too sweet a dream.
Lawrence was not so naive as to be ignorant of the word corruption.
"Well, hurry and look for more papers," said Holo, suddenly irritated, grabbing Lawrence's ear and hauling him forcibly out of the well of his own thoughts.
Surprised, Lawrence held his ear, and looked at Holo's profile as she dropped her gaze to the paper she held. Suddenly he remembered something—that she had volunteered to help him look for the company's name in the sheaf of papers because she wanted him to pay attention to her.
But thanks to her rigid expression of rejection, he couldn't bring himself to say, "Let's puzzle this out together."
It was strange that what was once such a tender mood could become like this so quickly.
Holo's mood changed more quickly than the mountain weather.
Was he just slow? Lawrence wondered, but then he told himself that this was just the caprice of a maiden's heart.
Though it was entirely unclear whether she was in fact a maiden, he silently added.
"Is this all of them?" Holo asked, having finished looking through the papers. In the end, she had found two of note.
Combined with what Lawrence had found, there were seven sheets in total.
As long as it wasn't an especially sloppy company, similar documents would be left in similar locations. Whoever had stolen these papers from the company would have just grabbed whatever they could grab, without looking carefully at the contents.
Just as Lawrence had guessed, there was an order sheet and a memorandum for the previous year's summer and another order sheet for the winter of the year before that.
And each time, they ordered fifty-seven chests from the copper suppliers and sent sixty chests of copper coin to the kingdom of Winfiel.
Since Winfiel would hardly be importing used, worn-out coins, each chest would have contained newly minted currency.
Those three extra chests were coming from somewhere—but there were no papers that said where.
"It doesn't seem as though there was anything decisive here."
"Not really. But even if the Jean Company's name isn't on them, there may be some related documents in here."
"Oh ho. Well, shall we?"
"Still, this may be proof that they really are illegally minting currency," Lawrence murmured to himself, an impatient Holo by his side.
Minting a large amount would be easily noticed, but if it was just a bit, the company might get away with it.
Alternatively, they might be experimenting with copper as a prelude to illegally producing gold coins.
The possibilities mounted in Lawrence's imagination—he thought of what information he would need to prove each scenario and what information he lacked. It was just as he was wondering if there was a different way to think about it entirely that he realized Holo, still next to him, was obviously bored.
"..." Holo cocked her head to crack her neck audibly, an expression of ill humor on her face. "Are you truly not going to chase after that vixen?"
If so, you'll never hear the end of it, she meant.
"...If you've any thoughts, you should share them," said Lawrence.
Holo raised her eyebrows, then with an exasperated expression rested her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin in her hand. She looked like a gambler frustrated at a dice roll gone badly.
Lawrence's roll had not been a good one, it seemed.
"Aye, so long as they have something to do with huge profits for you."
"...And you just said you didn't want that. And also—"
"Hmm?"
"You don't mind using your head, do you? It's a way to kill time," said Lawrence.


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

Input:
"Hn." Holo sniffed. Lawrence couldn't help but smile at her proud manner, as though she'd discovered a treasure map.
He just couldn't match her.
"And yes, it looks like they exported sixteen chests. So this...no...is it...?"
As Lawrence compared the paper to other export lists, he was soon submerged in thought.
A fragile bubble of a dream rose within his mind; he wanted to seal it away in the deepest corner.
It was too sweet a dream.
Lawrence was not so naive as to be ignorant of the word corruption.
"Well, hurry and look for more papers," said Holo, suddenly irritated, grabbing Lawrence's ear and hauling him forcibly out of the well of his own thoughts.
Surprised, Lawrence held his ear, and looked at Holo's profile as she dropped her gaze to the paper she held. Suddenly he remembered something—that she had volunteered to help him look for the company's name in the sheaf of papers because she wanted him to pay attention to her.
But thanks to her rigid expression of rejection, he couldn't bring himself to say, "Let's puzzle this out together."
It was strange that what was once such a tender mood could become like this so quickly.
Holo's mood changed more quickly than the mountain weather.
Was he just slow? Lawrence wondered, but then he told himself that this was just the caprice of a maiden's heart.
Though it was entirely unclear whether she was in fact a maiden, he silently added.
"Is this all of them?" Holo asked, having finished looking through the papers. In the end, she had found two of note.
Combined with what Lawrence had found, there were seven sheets in total.
As long as it wasn't an especially sloppy company, similar documents would be left in similar locations. Whoever had stolen these papers from the company would have just grabbed whatever they could grab, without looking carefully at the contents.
Just as Lawrence had guessed, there was an order sheet and a memorandum for the previous year's summer and another order sheet for the winter of the year before that.
And each time, they ordered fifty-seven chests from the copper suppliers and sent sixty chests of copper coin to the kingdom of Winfiel.
Since Winfiel would hardly be importing used, worn-out coins, each chest would have contained newly minted currency.
Those three extra chests were coming from somewhere—but there were no papers that said where.
"It doesn't seem as though there was anything decisive here."
"Not really. But even if the Jean Company's name isn't on them, there may be some related documents in here."
"Oh ho. Well, shall we?"
"Still, this may be proof that they really are illegally minting currency," Lawrence murmured to himself, an impatient Holo by his side.
Minting a large amount would be easily noticed, but if it was just a bit, the company might get away with it.
Alternatively, they might be experimenting with copper as a prelude to illegally producing gold coins.
The possibilities mounted in Lawrence's imagination—he thought of what information he would need to prove each scenario and what information he lacked. It was just as he was wondering if there was a different way to think about it entirely that he realized Holo, still next to him, was obviously bored.
"..." Holo cocked her head to crack her neck audibly, an expression of ill humor on her face. "Are you truly not going to chase after that vixen?"
If so, you'll never hear the end of it, she meant.
"...If you've any thoughts, you should share them," said Lawrence.
Holo raised her eyebrows, then with an exasperated expression rested her elbow on her knee and cupped her chin in her hand. She looked like a gambler frustrated at a dice roll gone badly.
Lawrence's roll had not been a good one, it seemed.
"Aye, so long as they have something to do with huge profits for you."
"...And you just said you didn't want that. And also—"
"Hmm?"
"You don't mind using your head, do you? It's a way to kill time," said Lawrence.

Output:
"Wh-what is it?" Lawrence asked in spite of himself.
Her ears and tail flicked around noisily. When she brought her hands down from her hood, her eyes blazed with anger.
As those still, unwavering eyes looked at him, Lawrence couldn't help but verbally retreat. "...Wh-why are you so angry?"
Her normally amber eyes seemed more like red-hot iron. "Angry? Angry, did you say?"
Just when Lawrence realized he had well and truly roused her anger, the vigor drained from her bristling fur as quickly as it had arrived.
It was as though a too-full water skin had popped.
Holo looked at him with ghostlike eyes, now so dispirited that it seemed she had been worn out in but a moment. "You...you would hardly understand why I would say this, anyway."
Holo gave him a sidelong glance and sighed audibly.
She was like a master who'd lost the energy to be angry with a particularly incompetent apprentice.
And yet Lawrence had a thought.
She's saying these things because she's bored and wants me to pay attention to her, he thought.
He said nothing, though—not because he was afraid that saying so would make her still angrier, but rather because Holo had already seen right through him and bared her fangs in warning. "You'd do well to mind your words."
When Lawrence had entered his apprenticeship under a master, the thing he hated more than all else was being asked questions.
If he answered wrong, he was cuffed, and silence earned him a kick.
Evidently Lawrence's thinking was wrong.
Which meant the only alternative was silence.
"You truly do not understand?"
Lawrence sifted through his memories.
He straightened despite himself and averted his gaze.
"'Tis all right if you don't."
At the unexpected words, Lawrence turned back to her. At that point, Holo added with a serious face, "But I won't speak to you until you do."
"Wha—?" Before Lawrence could even begin to ask why she would do something so childish, Holo moved away from him, snatching up the blanket that they shared and wrapping it around herself.
Lawrence was dumbfounded.
He very nearly asked her if she was joking, but stopped himself at the last moment. Holo was as stubborn as a child. If she said she wouldn't speak to him, then she wouldn't speak to him.
However, this was still better than being suddenly ignored. She had gone to the trouble of declaring her intent, a high-level tactic.
Engaging her over her childishly inflammatory words would be unseemly, and ignoring her in retaliation would be even more immature. And having been visibly disturbed by her declaration that she would no longer speak to him, he could hardly regain control.
Looking down at the papers in his hand, Lawrence sighed. He had thought that puzzling over this mystery would be amusing enough, but it seemed not to be to Holo's liking. She'd been happy enough to sift through the papers with him, so what was so upsetting about thinking through the various possibilities?
For Lawrence's part, he imagined that turning the various pointless things over in their minds would be the more fun part. At the very least, Lawrence would learn a thing or two, thanks to Holo's first-rate mind.
Or perhaps she'd simply learned that ill-conceived thinking led to getting involved in dangerous business.
Lawrence didn't understand Holo's mind.
He placed the Jean Company paperwork atop the other papers as a prelude to tidying up.
Holo didn't so much as glance at him. Even for a merchant, skilled as a matter of course in understanding the moods of others, Holo was no ordinary challenge. Terrible punishment awaited any misstep.
As Lawrence was thinking it over, Holo suddenly looked up.
Though she had moved away from him, the boat's deck was not large. Lawrence soon noticed and followed her gaze.
She was looking downriver.
Just as he wondered if she was concerned about a boat that was heading downriver ahead of them, he heard a plop-plop sound, as though something was spilling.


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

Input:
"Wh-what is it?" Lawrence asked in spite of himself.
Her ears and tail flicked around noisily. When she brought her hands down from her hood, her eyes blazed with anger.
As those still, unwavering eyes looked at him, Lawrence couldn't help but verbally retreat. "...Wh-why are you so angry?"
Her normally amber eyes seemed more like red-hot iron. "Angry? Angry, did you say?"
Just when Lawrence realized he had well and truly roused her anger, the vigor drained from her bristling fur as quickly as it had arrived.
It was as though a too-full water skin had popped.
Holo looked at him with ghostlike eyes, now so dispirited that it seemed she had been worn out in but a moment. "You...you would hardly understand why I would say this, anyway."
Holo gave him a sidelong glance and sighed audibly.
She was like a master who'd lost the energy to be angry with a particularly incompetent apprentice.
And yet Lawrence had a thought.
She's saying these things because she's bored and wants me to pay attention to her, he thought.
He said nothing, though—not because he was afraid that saying so would make her still angrier, but rather because Holo had already seen right through him and bared her fangs in warning. "You'd do well to mind your words."
When Lawrence had entered his apprenticeship under a master, the thing he hated more than all else was being asked questions.
If he answered wrong, he was cuffed, and silence earned him a kick.
Evidently Lawrence's thinking was wrong.
Which meant the only alternative was silence.
"You truly do not understand?"
Lawrence sifted through his memories.
He straightened despite himself and averted his gaze.
"'Tis all right if you don't."
At the unexpected words, Lawrence turned back to her. At that point, Holo added with a serious face, "But I won't speak to you until you do."
"Wha—?" Before Lawrence could even begin to ask why she would do something so childish, Holo moved away from him, snatching up the blanket that they shared and wrapping it around herself.
Lawrence was dumbfounded.
He very nearly asked her if she was joking, but stopped himself at the last moment. Holo was as stubborn as a child. If she said she wouldn't speak to him, then she wouldn't speak to him.
However, this was still better than being suddenly ignored. She had gone to the trouble of declaring her intent, a high-level tactic.
Engaging her over her childishly inflammatory words would be unseemly, and ignoring her in retaliation would be even more immature. And having been visibly disturbed by her declaration that she would no longer speak to him, he could hardly regain control.
Looking down at the papers in his hand, Lawrence sighed. He had thought that puzzling over this mystery would be amusing enough, but it seemed not to be to Holo's liking. She'd been happy enough to sift through the papers with him, so what was so upsetting about thinking through the various possibilities?
For Lawrence's part, he imagined that turning the various pointless things over in their minds would be the more fun part. At the very least, Lawrence would learn a thing or two, thanks to Holo's first-rate mind.
Or perhaps she'd simply learned that ill-conceived thinking led to getting involved in dangerous business.
Lawrence didn't understand Holo's mind.
He placed the Jean Company paperwork atop the other papers as a prelude to tidying up.
Holo didn't so much as glance at him. Even for a merchant, skilled as a matter of course in understanding the moods of others, Holo was no ordinary challenge. Terrible punishment awaited any misstep.
As Lawrence was thinking it over, Holo suddenly looked up.
Though she had moved away from him, the boat's deck was not large. Lawrence soon noticed and followed her gaze.
She was looking downriver.
Just as he wondered if she was concerned about a boat that was heading downriver ahead of them, he heard a plop-plop sound, as though something was spilling.

Output:
"What's this?" Lawrence murmured, and when there was no reply from Holo, he looked over in her direction, only to remember that she wasn't speaking to him.
It was like a conditioned response.
He had planned to pass it off as merely talking to himself, but there was just no way to hide it.
No doubt he'd be mocked for this later.
Thinking about it was depressing, but when he thought about having been unable to solve the problem, it was a bit frightening.
Holo emerged from the blanket, without paying Lawrence the slightest heed, and lightly stepped up onto the dock the boat had moored at.
The horse's gallop slowed as it approached the dock, and just before the animal stopped, its rider dismounted. The man wore a mantle wrapped around his shoulders, and from his clothes, a single look made it obvious he was a boatman. He seemed to know Ragusa, as Ragusa and Col walked up the dock onto land to greet the man. Without exchanging any pleasantries, Ragusa and the newcomer were soon asking questions and engaging in conversation.
Col had no way to include himself, so perhaps trying to keep out of the way, he carefully moved away from the two men and stood on the dock.
If it had been Lawrence, he would absolutely have tried to eavesdrop on the conversation—so Col's restraint was laudable.
Whether or not she had made the same estimation, Holo went over to Col and whispered something into his ear.
Lawrence couldn't hear what they were saying, of course, but Col looked up at Holo, surprised, then over to Lawrence himself, as though the topic somehow involved him.
In these circumstances, it could hardly be anything friendly.
Holo whispered in Col's ear again, and he nodded seriously.
She never once looked back in Lawrence's direction.
Though he wasn't worried about Holo disappearing forever the way he had worried in the past, that just gave him a worse feeling about all of this—because Holo knew all of the cards in his hand.
"Right—ahoy! Master!" Evidently the boatmen had finished their talking with characteristic speed, and Ragusa now turned and called out to Lawrence with a wave of his hand.
There was nothing else for Lawrence to do but climb up on the dock.
Holo was standing next to Col, their hands joined.
The two looked more like siblings than anything else, so the sight did not disturb Lawrence the way seeing her with Amati had.
"What is it?"
"Ah, my apologies. It looks like we're going to be walking a bit."
"Walking?" Lawrence asked as the other man, his business concluded, remounted his horse and spurred it farther upriver.
"A big ship's run aground, it seems. Now the whole river's jammed. Everybody was so greedy about getting their furs through, they didn't notice until it was too late, and it just started piling up. Apparently there's a sunken ship on the river's floor now, and they can't find the sunken ship's boatman anywhere, so there may have been some kind of disturbance."
"That's..."
In times of war or when a mercenary troupe was starving, they would attack merchant vessels in this way.
Given the endless and gently sloping plains of this region, the river was shallow and gentle enough that it could be rendered impassable with a single strike.
So a single boat would feign distress and sink, bringing the boats behind it to a standstill, whereupon those boats would be attacked. Naturally doing such things during peacetime would earn one untold amounts of enmity from the landholders who collected taxes from the region.
However, Lawrence could think of one person who was reckless enough to do it.
There was nothing left to do but take off hat and cloak and wave them about.
It was enough to make Lawrence genuinely want to cheer Eve on.
"So, what'll it be?" asked Ragusa.
He was clearly asking whether they could continue to Kerube or not. They had not come half the way to their destination—but that said, it would not be a short walk back to Lenos, either.


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

Input:
"What's this?" Lawrence murmured, and when there was no reply from Holo, he looked over in her direction, only to remember that she wasn't speaking to him.
It was like a conditioned response.
He had planned to pass it off as merely talking to himself, but there was just no way to hide it.
No doubt he'd be mocked for this later.
Thinking about it was depressing, but when he thought about having been unable to solve the problem, it was a bit frightening.
Holo emerged from the blanket, without paying Lawrence the slightest heed, and lightly stepped up onto the dock the boat had moored at.
The horse's gallop slowed as it approached the dock, and just before the animal stopped, its rider dismounted. The man wore a mantle wrapped around his shoulders, and from his clothes, a single look made it obvious he was a boatman. He seemed to know Ragusa, as Ragusa and Col walked up the dock onto land to greet the man. Without exchanging any pleasantries, Ragusa and the newcomer were soon asking questions and engaging in conversation.
Col had no way to include himself, so perhaps trying to keep out of the way, he carefully moved away from the two men and stood on the dock.
If it had been Lawrence, he would absolutely have tried to eavesdrop on the conversation—so Col's restraint was laudable.
Whether or not she had made the same estimation, Holo went over to Col and whispered something into his ear.
Lawrence couldn't hear what they were saying, of course, but Col looked up at Holo, surprised, then over to Lawrence himself, as though the topic somehow involved him.
In these circumstances, it could hardly be anything friendly.
Holo whispered in Col's ear again, and he nodded seriously.
She never once looked back in Lawrence's direction.
Though he wasn't worried about Holo disappearing forever the way he had worried in the past, that just gave him a worse feeling about all of this—because Holo knew all of the cards in his hand.
"Right—ahoy! Master!" Evidently the boatmen had finished their talking with characteristic speed, and Ragusa now turned and called out to Lawrence with a wave of his hand.
There was nothing else for Lawrence to do but climb up on the dock.
Holo was standing next to Col, their hands joined.
The two looked more like siblings than anything else, so the sight did not disturb Lawrence the way seeing her with Amati had.
"What is it?"
"Ah, my apologies. It looks like we're going to be walking a bit."
"Walking?" Lawrence asked as the other man, his business concluded, remounted his horse and spurred it farther upriver.
"A big ship's run aground, it seems. Now the whole river's jammed. Everybody was so greedy about getting their furs through, they didn't notice until it was too late, and it just started piling up. Apparently there's a sunken ship on the river's floor now, and they can't find the sunken ship's boatman anywhere, so there may have been some kind of disturbance."
"That's..."
In times of war or when a mercenary troupe was starving, they would attack merchant vessels in this way.
Given the endless and gently sloping plains of this region, the river was shallow and gentle enough that it could be rendered impassable with a single strike.
So a single boat would feign distress and sink, bringing the boats behind it to a standstill, whereupon those boats would be attacked. Naturally doing such things during peacetime would earn one untold amounts of enmity from the landholders who collected taxes from the region.
However, Lawrence could think of one person who was reckless enough to do it.
There was nothing left to do but take off hat and cloak and wave them about.
It was enough to make Lawrence genuinely want to cheer Eve on.
"So, what'll it be?" asked Ragusa.
He was clearly asking whether they could continue to Kerube or not. They had not come half the way to their destination—but that said, it would not be a short walk back to Lenos, either.

Output:
"Fortunately, there's no word of mercenaries in the area, so things should be restored soon. But the other boats loaded with cargo are at a standstill. Aside from the ones who are desperate enough to jump into the water and swim ashore, they're not going anywhere. If I can unload some of the goods from this boat, I'll have some excess carrying space, which I want to use to carry people and cargo from the grounded boats to the shore. So—I'm sorry, but I'll need you to walk."
After having taken them on board, it was stunningly disgraceful for a boatman to ask his passengers to go ashore and walk. It hardly mattered whether the circumstances were his fault or not.
Ragusa was a boatman who lived within that value system, and his face was clouded.
"I am a merchant, so if you'll lower your fee, I'll walk as much as I need to."
It wasn't quite a friendship between men of different occupations, but Ragusa smiled ruefully and shook hands with Lawrence nonetheless.
The problem was Holo, but before Lawrence could turn to her, Ragusa continued speaking. "Still, I can't very well force a maiden to walk in this cold without any preparation. I hear there are some rather devout fellows stuck on that river. If a girl you could mistake for a goddess were riding along with me, I'm sure it'd pick up their spirits."
Lawrence was a bit relieved.
His stomach hurt at the mere thought of walking along with a silent, uncooperative Holo, and even if she'd been happy, trudging around in this cold would surely have brought out her displeasure.
"So," said Ragusa, "in that case, first I'll need to unload the cargo."
"I'll help."
"Hey now, that makes it sound like I was trying to get you to help me." Ragusa smiled.
Lawrence could only be impressed—he could hardly refuse to help now.
"I said 'unload,' but it's really just the wheat and beans. The chests can stay where they are."
"Shall we get started, then?" said Lawrence, glancing back at the cargo on the boat.
"Aye, lets!" called out Ragusa. "By the by, I couldn't help overhearing your fun little chat earlier."
"Wha—?" His exchange with Holo had been embarrassing enough that Lawrence was suddenly very flustered.
"Ah, don't worry! I didn't hear anything you'd be worried about," said Ragusa with a sheepish grin. "It was just about the eni coin."
"The eni?"
"Aye. It just so happens that's what I'm carrying right now."
Lawrence had wondered if those chests contained coins, but this was a coincidence indeed.
Either that, or Ragusa was teasing, having a bit of fun at Lawrence's expense—but as Lawrence thought it over, that seemed unlikely.
If the chests had contained gold or silver coin, they would've been attended by guards, and a merchant like Lawrence would never have been allowed to ride in the same boat.
And Ragusa's boat was loaded with fully ten chests. If fifty-seven chests were headed downriver in total, that meant roughly four other vessels of this size would be needed.
And because their cargo would have been decided ahead of time, it would be difficult for them to load up on furs for a quick profit. So they would have been tied up at port as usual, which would have made it all the more likely that Lawrence's eye would fall upon one of them.
This all stood to reason—and if it was so, then Ragusa might have some new information.
Lawrence looked at Ragusa with his merchant's eye, and it seemed that Ragusa was waiting for this.
Ragusa suggested with a wink that they first unload the cargo, signaling to Col and Holo (who had been listening to the conversation) to help, then placed his hand on Lawrence's shoulder and brought his face conspiratorially near. "I've a bit of interest in the matter myself. For two years now, that same copper coin has been moved on a fixed day, in a fixed amount—fifty-seven chests, downriver, to the Jean Company, but I'd never given much thought to how many chests it was in total. It was fifty-seven chests, divided up into a certain amount, then carried downriver."


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

Input:
"Fortunately, there's no word of mercenaries in the area, so things should be restored soon. But the other boats loaded with cargo are at a standstill. Aside from the ones who are desperate enough to jump into the water and swim ashore, they're not going anywhere. If I can unload some of the goods from this boat, I'll have some excess carrying space, which I want to use to carry people and cargo from the grounded boats to the shore. So—I'm sorry, but I'll need you to walk."
After having taken them on board, it was stunningly disgraceful for a boatman to ask his passengers to go ashore and walk. It hardly mattered whether the circumstances were his fault or not.
Ragusa was a boatman who lived within that value system, and his face was clouded.
"I am a merchant, so if you'll lower your fee, I'll walk as much as I need to."
It wasn't quite a friendship between men of different occupations, but Ragusa smiled ruefully and shook hands with Lawrence nonetheless.
The problem was Holo, but before Lawrence could turn to her, Ragusa continued speaking. "Still, I can't very well force a maiden to walk in this cold without any preparation. I hear there are some rather devout fellows stuck on that river. If a girl you could mistake for a goddess were riding along with me, I'm sure it'd pick up their spirits."
Lawrence was a bit relieved.
His stomach hurt at the mere thought of walking along with a silent, uncooperative Holo, and even if she'd been happy, trudging around in this cold would surely have brought out her displeasure.
"So," said Ragusa, "in that case, first I'll need to unload the cargo."
"I'll help."
"Hey now, that makes it sound like I was trying to get you to help me." Ragusa smiled.
Lawrence could only be impressed—he could hardly refuse to help now.
"I said 'unload,' but it's really just the wheat and beans. The chests can stay where they are."
"Shall we get started, then?" said Lawrence, glancing back at the cargo on the boat.
"Aye, lets!" called out Ragusa. "By the by, I couldn't help overhearing your fun little chat earlier."
"Wha—?" His exchange with Holo had been embarrassing enough that Lawrence was suddenly very flustered.
"Ah, don't worry! I didn't hear anything you'd be worried about," said Ragusa with a sheepish grin. "It was just about the eni coin."
"The eni?"
"Aye. It just so happens that's what I'm carrying right now."
Lawrence had wondered if those chests contained coins, but this was a coincidence indeed.
Either that, or Ragusa was teasing, having a bit of fun at Lawrence's expense—but as Lawrence thought it over, that seemed unlikely.
If the chests had contained gold or silver coin, they would've been attended by guards, and a merchant like Lawrence would never have been allowed to ride in the same boat.
And Ragusa's boat was loaded with fully ten chests. If fifty-seven chests were headed downriver in total, that meant roughly four other vessels of this size would be needed.
And because their cargo would have been decided ahead of time, it would be difficult for them to load up on furs for a quick profit. So they would have been tied up at port as usual, which would have made it all the more likely that Lawrence's eye would fall upon one of them.
This all stood to reason—and if it was so, then Ragusa might have some new information.
Lawrence looked at Ragusa with his merchant's eye, and it seemed that Ragusa was waiting for this.
Ragusa suggested with a wink that they first unload the cargo, signaling to Col and Holo (who had been listening to the conversation) to help, then placed his hand on Lawrence's shoulder and brought his face conspiratorially near. "I've a bit of interest in the matter myself. For two years now, that same copper coin has been moved on a fixed day, in a fixed amount—fifty-seven chests, downriver, to the Jean Company, but I'd never given much thought to how many chests it was in total. It was fifty-seven chests, divided up into a certain amount, then carried downriver."

Output:
Surprised, Col tried to refuse, but in the end, he was forced to put it on.
Col admittedly looked a bit shabby.
He seemed to have some trouble walking in the robe; perhaps it was his first time wearing a long-hemmed article.
"Those fifty-seven chests become sixty when they leave the Jean Company, which means either somebody is secretly carrying more, or the Jean Company is scheming at something."
Returning to the boat, Ragusa stepped lightly aboard and hefted a sack of wheat, which Lawrence took and left on the dock.
Col saw this and quickly hauled out the bean sacks, which he could carry.
The boy's willingness to work hard impressed Lawrence, but he wondered if Col was just trying to eavesdrop on the conversation between him and Ragusa.
"I appreciate the Jean Company always giving me this cargo, and I trust my fellow boatmen doing the same job. But it's these times. Surely God would forgive us being forced to take on a bad partner, would he not?"
Lawrence wasn't Col, but he could certainly still be fooled.
"Of course, it's too soon to take that paper and go to the Jean Company, but one of those chests is a fair transport fee. If this turns out to be the Jean Company's weak point, we'd be in a bind."
It was the problem that faced all who accepted a job.
Lawrence took the last sack of wheat from Ragusa, piled it up on the dock, then answered, "I've no intention of trying to expose the truth of the situation. I'm quite satisfied if I can safely build this house of cards."
"Then I'm sure I can let the ravings of a traveling merchant slide—even if do have a certain partner," said Ragusa with a smile.
For Ragusa and his comrades, who would work on the river their entire lives, the happiness of their clients was an issue of desperate importance. And yet being forced to work with a strange partner could get them literally sunk. They would want to know the truth at least, but the world of those who traveled the river was a small one, and they could not afford to whisper to one another. But a traveling merchant from beyond that world—that was different.
Lawrence wondered if he was overthinking things, but this was at least close to the truth.
Col took Holo's things from her and, without being asked, added them to his own, shouldering the combined burden.
Noticing Lawrence's gaze, he looked in Lawrence's direction, but Lawrence only waved lightly and gestured for him to go on ahead.
"Right, then, do mind my companion—try to keep her from being too awe-inspiring, eh?"
"Ha-ha-ha. Can't have her getting any more worshippers, after all. Worry not, it's not too far on foot. We'll surely meet up by nightfall."
Lawrence nodded, then glanced at Holo, but she was already lying down, curled up in her blanket.
As he looked at her sleeping form, he very keenly appreciated that there was more than one way to quarrel.
***
The walk along the riverbank took its toll.
Having traveled for so long on a wagon, though he wasn't exhausted, Lawrence found it difficult to keep pace with Col.
He wondered how his feet were supposed to keep up this speed.
It made him long for the days when he had been accustomed to traveling on foot and could travel twice as fast as the envious wagon-bound merchants if he was in a hurry.
"There's no gain in hurrying so," Lawrence finally said.
"Yes, sir," the boy replied meekly, slowing his pace.
Ragusa's suddenly lightened vessel had headed downriver with Holo aboard and was soon out of sight. The boats behind it were all larger, and because they were all being stopped at the checkpoint, the river was very quiet.
The calm river's surface was slick looking and shiny, like the slime trail left behind a snail, and it was amusing to watch.
Lawrence almost wanted to say that it looked as though glass had been laid down on the earth, but that seemed a bit exaggerated.
Suddenly a fish splashed through the surface, ruining the glassy look.


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

Input:
Surprised, Col tried to refuse, but in the end, he was forced to put it on.
Col admittedly looked a bit shabby.
He seemed to have some trouble walking in the robe; perhaps it was his first time wearing a long-hemmed article.
"Those fifty-seven chests become sixty when they leave the Jean Company, which means either somebody is secretly carrying more, or the Jean Company is scheming at something."
Returning to the boat, Ragusa stepped lightly aboard and hefted a sack of wheat, which Lawrence took and left on the dock.
Col saw this and quickly hauled out the bean sacks, which he could carry.
The boy's willingness to work hard impressed Lawrence, but he wondered if Col was just trying to eavesdrop on the conversation between him and Ragusa.
"I appreciate the Jean Company always giving me this cargo, and I trust my fellow boatmen doing the same job. But it's these times. Surely God would forgive us being forced to take on a bad partner, would he not?"
Lawrence wasn't Col, but he could certainly still be fooled.
"Of course, it's too soon to take that paper and go to the Jean Company, but one of those chests is a fair transport fee. If this turns out to be the Jean Company's weak point, we'd be in a bind."
It was the problem that faced all who accepted a job.
Lawrence took the last sack of wheat from Ragusa, piled it up on the dock, then answered, "I've no intention of trying to expose the truth of the situation. I'm quite satisfied if I can safely build this house of cards."
"Then I'm sure I can let the ravings of a traveling merchant slide—even if do have a certain partner," said Ragusa with a smile.
For Ragusa and his comrades, who would work on the river their entire lives, the happiness of their clients was an issue of desperate importance. And yet being forced to work with a strange partner could get them literally sunk. They would want to know the truth at least, but the world of those who traveled the river was a small one, and they could not afford to whisper to one another. But a traveling merchant from beyond that world—that was different.
Lawrence wondered if he was overthinking things, but this was at least close to the truth.
Col took Holo's things from her and, without being asked, added them to his own, shouldering the combined burden.
Noticing Lawrence's gaze, he looked in Lawrence's direction, but Lawrence only waved lightly and gestured for him to go on ahead.
"Right, then, do mind my companion—try to keep her from being too awe-inspiring, eh?"
"Ha-ha-ha. Can't have her getting any more worshippers, after all. Worry not, it's not too far on foot. We'll surely meet up by nightfall."
Lawrence nodded, then glanced at Holo, but she was already lying down, curled up in her blanket.
As he looked at her sleeping form, he very keenly appreciated that there was more than one way to quarrel.
***
The walk along the riverbank took its toll.
Having traveled for so long on a wagon, though he wasn't exhausted, Lawrence found it difficult to keep pace with Col.
He wondered how his feet were supposed to keep up this speed.
It made him long for the days when he had been accustomed to traveling on foot and could travel twice as fast as the envious wagon-bound merchants if he was in a hurry.
"There's no gain in hurrying so," Lawrence finally said.
"Yes, sir," the boy replied meekly, slowing his pace.
Ragusa's suddenly lightened vessel had headed downriver with Holo aboard and was soon out of sight. The boats behind it were all larger, and because they were all being stopped at the checkpoint, the river was very quiet.
The calm river's surface was slick looking and shiny, like the slime trail left behind a snail, and it was amusing to watch.
Lawrence almost wanted to say that it looked as though glass had been laid down on the earth, but that seemed a bit exaggerated.
Suddenly a fish splashed through the surface, ruining the glassy look.

Output:
"What is it?"
"About the eni..."
"Ah. You're wondering if there's any money to be made?" asked Lawrence sharply, perhaps out of habit from spending time with Holo. Col nodded, face sober.
The boy thought making money was shameful.
Lawrence faced ahead, inhaling the cold air through his nose and exhaling from his mouth. "I doubt it."
"I...see."
Col was wearing Holo's robe; when he slumped in dejection, it looked like Holo slumping in dejection.
Lawrence shocked himself by reaching his hand out, but Col seemed only slightly surprised when his head was patted.
"Though I wouldn't have guessed you'd be having trouble with money." Lawrence pulled his hand back from Col's head, opening and closing his fingers several times.
He had expected it to feel different from Holo's, but apart from the lack of ears, it felt much the same.
Seen from behind, the only difference Col's figure cut would be the lack of the bulge that Holo's tail created.
"What do you mean?"
"Hmm? Just what I said. Even among wandering scholars, the really clever ones have more money than they can carry and drink wine every day."
It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there were definitely students who earned enough to pay to hear a dozen lectures from a professor clear to the end.
Col had become involved in bookselling because he didn't have enough for even a single lesson.
"Uh, er...I guess there are some like that, yes."
"Have you ever wondered how they get their money?"
"...Surely they steal it from others, I should think."
When looking at someone who's achieved something beyond imagining, it's easy to assume his dishonesty.
One simply concludes he's using some fundamentally different method.
Col's estimation this time was a bit low.
"I expect they're earning money much the same way you do."
"Huh?" Col looked at Lawrence with an expression of disbelief.
It was the same expression Holo used when Lawrence managed a truly excellent verbal comeback.
And because his opponent wasn't Holo, he could afford a bit of pride—but when Lawrence realized what he was doing, he chuckled, chagrined, and scratched his cheek. "Mm. And the only difference between you and fellows like that is effort."
"...Effort?"
"Yes. On your journey, did you sleep nights under borrowed roofs or beg your meals one at a time?"
"Yes."
"So it looks like you think you put forth some effort yourself," said Lawrence with a smile. Col's face tensed, and he looked down.
He was sulking.
"What you put effort into was asking with all your heart if you could please take shelter from the wind or rain or if you could have some hot porridge to warm your cold body."
Col's eyes flicked right, then left, then he nodded.
"But that lot, they're different. They're always focused on getting the most, the biggest return. The stories I've heard are incredible. They put merchants to shame."
There was no reaction for a while, but Lawrence wasn't worried.
He knew Col was a smart lad.
"What...what do they do?"
Asking for instruction was no easy thing—and it was harder the cleverer one was. The more confidence one has in oneself, the more difficult it becomes to ask for help.
Of course, there are people who claim asking others is easier and start out that way.
But those people didn't have eyes like Col's.
Lawrence didn't answer immediately, instead removing a small cask from the pack Col carried, uncorking it, and taking a drink.
It was wine, distilled to the point of being only palely tinted.
He jokingly offered the cask to Col, who shook his head hastily.
The boy's eyes were tinged with fear. He had set out on his journey knowing nothing and had surely met with terrible misfortune.
"For example, say you knock on the door of a house somewhere, and you get a single smoked herring."
Col nodded.
"And say it's desperately meager, and when you remove the skin, there's hardly any meat at all, just the stink of smoke and not much else. So what do you do next?"
"Um..."


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

Input:
"What is it?"
"About the eni..."
"Ah. You're wondering if there's any money to be made?" asked Lawrence sharply, perhaps out of habit from spending time with Holo. Col nodded, face sober.
The boy thought making money was shameful.
Lawrence faced ahead, inhaling the cold air through his nose and exhaling from his mouth. "I doubt it."
"I...see."
Col was wearing Holo's robe; when he slumped in dejection, it looked like Holo slumping in dejection.
Lawrence shocked himself by reaching his hand out, but Col seemed only slightly surprised when his head was patted.
"Though I wouldn't have guessed you'd be having trouble with money." Lawrence pulled his hand back from Col's head, opening and closing his fingers several times.
He had expected it to feel different from Holo's, but apart from the lack of ears, it felt much the same.
Seen from behind, the only difference Col's figure cut would be the lack of the bulge that Holo's tail created.
"What do you mean?"
"Hmm? Just what I said. Even among wandering scholars, the really clever ones have more money than they can carry and drink wine every day."
It was a bit of an exaggeration, but there were definitely students who earned enough to pay to hear a dozen lectures from a professor clear to the end.
Col had become involved in bookselling because he didn't have enough for even a single lesson.
"Uh, er...I guess there are some like that, yes."
"Have you ever wondered how they get their money?"
"...Surely they steal it from others, I should think."
When looking at someone who's achieved something beyond imagining, it's easy to assume his dishonesty.
One simply concludes he's using some fundamentally different method.
Col's estimation this time was a bit low.
"I expect they're earning money much the same way you do."
"Huh?" Col looked at Lawrence with an expression of disbelief.
It was the same expression Holo used when Lawrence managed a truly excellent verbal comeback.
And because his opponent wasn't Holo, he could afford a bit of pride—but when Lawrence realized what he was doing, he chuckled, chagrined, and scratched his cheek. "Mm. And the only difference between you and fellows like that is effort."
"...Effort?"
"Yes. On your journey, did you sleep nights under borrowed roofs or beg your meals one at a time?"
"Yes."
"So it looks like you think you put forth some effort yourself," said Lawrence with a smile. Col's face tensed, and he looked down.
He was sulking.
"What you put effort into was asking with all your heart if you could please take shelter from the wind or rain or if you could have some hot porridge to warm your cold body."
Col's eyes flicked right, then left, then he nodded.
"But that lot, they're different. They're always focused on getting the most, the biggest return. The stories I've heard are incredible. They put merchants to shame."
There was no reaction for a while, but Lawrence wasn't worried.
He knew Col was a smart lad.
"What...what do they do?"
Asking for instruction was no easy thing—and it was harder the cleverer one was. The more confidence one has in oneself, the more difficult it becomes to ask for help.
Of course, there are people who claim asking others is easier and start out that way.
But those people didn't have eyes like Col's.
Lawrence didn't answer immediately, instead removing a small cask from the pack Col carried, uncorking it, and taking a drink.
It was wine, distilled to the point of being only palely tinted.
He jokingly offered the cask to Col, who shook his head hastily.
The boy's eyes were tinged with fear. He had set out on his journey knowing nothing and had surely met with terrible misfortune.
"For example, say you knock on the door of a house somewhere, and you get a single smoked herring."
Col nodded.
"And say it's desperately meager, and when you remove the skin, there's hardly any meat at all, just the stink of smoke and not much else. So what do you do next?"
"Um..."

Output:
His answer came quickly. "I would...eat half, then save the other half."
"And eat it on the next day."
"Yes."
Lawrence was impressed the boy had made it this far.
"So once you had a herring, you wouldn't then go try to get some soup?"
"...Are you saying I should go around to lots of houses?" Col spoke not admiringly; his eyes seemed a bit dissatisfied.
For Lawrence, this conversation could hardly fail to be amusing.
"So there's a good reason you don't do that?"
Col nodded, displeased.
He wasn't so stupid as to do something without a reason. "The reason I succeeded once...was because I was lucky."
"That's true. The world isn't overflowing with good, kind people, after all."
***
He had taken the bait this far.
Holo would have pretended to swallow it, then tied the fishing line to the bottom of the pond. The moment Lawrence pulled up on the rod, he would be dragged under.
Col would not do such things.
"In business, the more money you have, the more smoothly things go. It's because you have more tools. But you go into battle unarmed every time. So you come out of it wounded."
Col's eyes wavered.
They wavered but soon regained their vitality.
This was what it meant to be clever.
"...So you mean I should use the herring?"
The hook was set now.
To think that there was such pleasure in the world.
"That's right. You take the herring, and with it seek your next donation."
"Wha—?" Col's look of surprise was so profound it seemed it would never fade.
And why wouldn't he be surprised?
How could someone who's already received one fish use it to ask for another one?
But it could be done.
And easily.
"You take the herring. It's better if you have a friend, and younger than you. You take him along and knock on a door. 'Excuse me, sir,' you say. 'You live devoutly by the teachings of God. Look, sir—I have a single herring. But I cannot possibly eat it. Please look, sir—look at my companion. Today is his birthday. If you could spare us some kindness, and give me alms enough to make this herring into a pie for him to eat. Just enough for that, sir—please.'"
Solicitousness was the specialty of the merchant.
Lawrence made a good performance of it as Col gulped and watched.
"Listen to this speech. Who could refuse? The key is asking for just enough money for herring pie. Nobody is going to light their stove for you, but if it's money, they'll certainly spare some."
"Ah, er, so you mean any amount—"
"Yes. You take one herring from house to house, and some of those people are going to tell you that one herring isn't possibly enough, so you'll get more. Then once you've made the rounds through town, whoosh."
Col looked so dazed that one could have hung a sign that said DAZED on him and collected coins for the performance.
He seemed to be tasting the shock of having his entire world turned upside down.
There were amazing people in the world who could imagine truly inconceivable things.
"I won't go so far as to say, 'Hunger knows no law,' but depending on how you think about it, there's no harm in giving alms to a poor wandering scholar, and giving even a small amount of money makes the giver feel good about themselves, so nobody loses. If you have extra money or food, you can even give some to your accomplice. So what do you think? Did you learn anything?"
What made Holo's sleeping face so attractive was that her normally guarded wisewolf mien was innocent, guileless.
However, that was usually irrelevant.
Col's face was so naive in the face of the shock that, while he wasn't as fetching as Holo, he definitely did have his own charm.
"Ignorance is a sin." Lawrence patted the back of Col's head, at which Col sighed and nodded.
"I've heard the saying 'Know thyself.'"
"Well, that's true, but the important thing is—," began Lawrence but then looked behind him at the sound of hooves.
Perhaps there had been men on horses riding on the boat that had been held up at the checkpoint.


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

Input:
His answer came quickly. "I would...eat half, then save the other half."
"And eat it on the next day."
"Yes."
Lawrence was impressed the boy had made it this far.
"So once you had a herring, you wouldn't then go try to get some soup?"
"...Are you saying I should go around to lots of houses?" Col spoke not admiringly; his eyes seemed a bit dissatisfied.
For Lawrence, this conversation could hardly fail to be amusing.
"So there's a good reason you don't do that?"
Col nodded, displeased.
He wasn't so stupid as to do something without a reason. "The reason I succeeded once...was because I was lucky."
"That's true. The world isn't overflowing with good, kind people, after all."
***
He had taken the bait this far.
Holo would have pretended to swallow it, then tied the fishing line to the bottom of the pond. The moment Lawrence pulled up on the rod, he would be dragged under.
Col would not do such things.
"In business, the more money you have, the more smoothly things go. It's because you have more tools. But you go into battle unarmed every time. So you come out of it wounded."
Col's eyes wavered.
They wavered but soon regained their vitality.
This was what it meant to be clever.
"...So you mean I should use the herring?"
The hook was set now.
To think that there was such pleasure in the world.
"That's right. You take the herring, and with it seek your next donation."
"Wha—?" Col's look of surprise was so profound it seemed it would never fade.
And why wouldn't he be surprised?
How could someone who's already received one fish use it to ask for another one?
But it could be done.
And easily.
"You take the herring. It's better if you have a friend, and younger than you. You take him along and knock on a door. 'Excuse me, sir,' you say. 'You live devoutly by the teachings of God. Look, sir—I have a single herring. But I cannot possibly eat it. Please look, sir—look at my companion. Today is his birthday. If you could spare us some kindness, and give me alms enough to make this herring into a pie for him to eat. Just enough for that, sir—please.'"
Solicitousness was the specialty of the merchant.
Lawrence made a good performance of it as Col gulped and watched.
"Listen to this speech. Who could refuse? The key is asking for just enough money for herring pie. Nobody is going to light their stove for you, but if it's money, they'll certainly spare some."
"Ah, er, so you mean any amount—"
"Yes. You take one herring from house to house, and some of those people are going to tell you that one herring isn't possibly enough, so you'll get more. Then once you've made the rounds through town, whoosh."
Col looked so dazed that one could have hung a sign that said DAZED on him and collected coins for the performance.
He seemed to be tasting the shock of having his entire world turned upside down.
There were amazing people in the world who could imagine truly inconceivable things.
"I won't go so far as to say, 'Hunger knows no law,' but depending on how you think about it, there's no harm in giving alms to a poor wandering scholar, and giving even a small amount of money makes the giver feel good about themselves, so nobody loses. If you have extra money or food, you can even give some to your accomplice. So what do you think? Did you learn anything?"
What made Holo's sleeping face so attractive was that her normally guarded wisewolf mien was innocent, guileless.
However, that was usually irrelevant.
Col's face was so naive in the face of the shock that, while he wasn't as fetching as Holo, he definitely did have his own charm.
"Ignorance is a sin." Lawrence patted the back of Col's head, at which Col sighed and nodded.
"I've heard the saying 'Know thyself.'"
"Well, that's true, but the important thing is—," began Lawrence but then looked behind him at the sound of hooves.
Perhaps there had been men on horses riding on the boat that had been held up at the checkpoint.

Output:
One horse. Two. Then three.
Seven in total.
How many men among them would be able to realize the profits they'd been anticipating?
Even if they knew something, it would be difficult to turn that into profit.
The important thing was—
"The important thing is to think of something nobody else is thinking of. 'Ignorance is a sin' is not about knowledge—it's about wisdom."
Col opened his eyes and gritted his teeth.
The hand that held the strap of the bag over his shoulder trembled a bit.
He looked up. "Thank you very much, master."
Truly, only the gods profit in the end.
It was quite pleasant traveling with Col.
The boy kept silent, though, on the matter of what Holo had said to him earlier.
He was clad in Holo's hooded cloak.
Holo had long since left her scent on the boy.
It would be difficult to reverse that.
"Hey, I can see it up ahead!"
"Hmm? ...Oh, indeed. Looks like it's turned into quite a mess."
On the gently downward-sloping plain, the view ahead was free from obstacles.
There was still a good distance to walk, but nonetheless the main details were apparent.
True to Ragusa's words, a large ship was diagonally blocking the river, and behind it was a tangle of vessels caught in the obstruction.
The boat that was stopped near the riverbank might have been Ragusa's.
There were many men on horseback as well, the majority of whom were surely the messengers of noblemen, bearing urgent news.
Many other people milled around, but it was difficult to tell what they were doing.
"It seems kind of like a festival," said Col, dazed, and Lawrence gave the boy's profile a casual glance.
Maybe it was because the boy was looking far off into the distance, but somehow he seemed lonely, as though he were longing for his homeland.
Lawrence, too, had left his tiny home village and its stifling gray air but still sometimes thought fondly of it.
The boy's eyes seemed moist, but the sun was fairly low in the sky, so it might simply have been from the color-tinged light that reflected in them.
"Where were you born?" Lawrence asked without thinking.
"Huh?"
"If you don't want to answer, that's fine, too." Even Lawrence, when asked where he was from, would put on airs and name the town closest to the hamlet where he was born.
Of course, half of the reason he did so was because nobody would recognize the name of his village anyway.
"U-um, it's a place called Pinu," said Col nervously; Lawrence had indeed never heard of it.
"Sorry, I don't know it. Where is it? The east?"
From Col's accent, Lawrence guessed he might also be from the deep southeast.
It was a country of hot seas and limestone.
Of course, Lawrence had only heard stories of it.
"No, the north. Actually, it's not so very far from here..."
"Oh?"
If he was from the north and wanted to study Church law, he might have been related to immigrants from the south.
There were many who had abandoned their households to seek new lands in the north.
But most of those had been unable to accustom themselves to the new place, and things had been difficult.
"Are you familiar with the Roef River that flows into the Roam?"
Lawrence nodded.
"It's toward the headwaters there—up in the mountains. Winters are cold, I suppose. But when the snow falls, it's very pretty."
Lawrence was a bit surprised.
He remembered the story about Holo that was in the book he'd borrowed from Rigolo. It said that she'd come out of the mountains of Roef.
But when it came to people wandering about this region, ones from the south were surely rare.
The Roef River was quite long—the population of its basin was certainly the greater figure.
"If you're moving slowly, it's two weeks from here. If things really don't work out, I was thinking I might go back home," said Col, embarrassed. Lawrence, of course, did not smile.
It required an unbelievable amount of determination to leave one's village.


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

Input:
One horse. Two. Then three.
Seven in total.
How many men among them would be able to realize the profits they'd been anticipating?
Even if they knew something, it would be difficult to turn that into profit.
The important thing was—
"The important thing is to think of something nobody else is thinking of. 'Ignorance is a sin' is not about knowledge—it's about wisdom."
Col opened his eyes and gritted his teeth.
The hand that held the strap of the bag over his shoulder trembled a bit.
He looked up. "Thank you very much, master."
Truly, only the gods profit in the end.
It was quite pleasant traveling with Col.
The boy kept silent, though, on the matter of what Holo had said to him earlier.
He was clad in Holo's hooded cloak.
Holo had long since left her scent on the boy.
It would be difficult to reverse that.
"Hey, I can see it up ahead!"
"Hmm? ...Oh, indeed. Looks like it's turned into quite a mess."
On the gently downward-sloping plain, the view ahead was free from obstacles.
There was still a good distance to walk, but nonetheless the main details were apparent.
True to Ragusa's words, a large ship was diagonally blocking the river, and behind it was a tangle of vessels caught in the obstruction.
The boat that was stopped near the riverbank might have been Ragusa's.
There were many men on horseback as well, the majority of whom were surely the messengers of noblemen, bearing urgent news.
Many other people milled around, but it was difficult to tell what they were doing.
"It seems kind of like a festival," said Col, dazed, and Lawrence gave the boy's profile a casual glance.
Maybe it was because the boy was looking far off into the distance, but somehow he seemed lonely, as though he were longing for his homeland.
Lawrence, too, had left his tiny home village and its stifling gray air but still sometimes thought fondly of it.
The boy's eyes seemed moist, but the sun was fairly low in the sky, so it might simply have been from the color-tinged light that reflected in them.
"Where were you born?" Lawrence asked without thinking.
"Huh?"
"If you don't want to answer, that's fine, too." Even Lawrence, when asked where he was from, would put on airs and name the town closest to the hamlet where he was born.
Of course, half of the reason he did so was because nobody would recognize the name of his village anyway.
"U-um, it's a place called Pinu," said Col nervously; Lawrence had indeed never heard of it.
"Sorry, I don't know it. Where is it? The east?"
From Col's accent, Lawrence guessed he might also be from the deep southeast.
It was a country of hot seas and limestone.
Of course, Lawrence had only heard stories of it.
"No, the north. Actually, it's not so very far from here..."
"Oh?"
If he was from the north and wanted to study Church law, he might have been related to immigrants from the south.
There were many who had abandoned their households to seek new lands in the north.
But most of those had been unable to accustom themselves to the new place, and things had been difficult.
"Are you familiar with the Roef River that flows into the Roam?"
Lawrence nodded.
"It's toward the headwaters there—up in the mountains. Winters are cold, I suppose. But when the snow falls, it's very pretty."
Lawrence was a bit surprised.
He remembered the story about Holo that was in the book he'd borrowed from Rigolo. It said that she'd come out of the mountains of Roef.
But when it came to people wandering about this region, ones from the south were surely rare.
The Roef River was quite long—the population of its basin was certainly the greater figure.
"If you're moving slowly, it's two weeks from here. If things really don't work out, I was thinking I might go back home," said Col, embarrassed. Lawrence, of course, did not smile.
It required an unbelievable amount of determination to leave one's village.

Output:
Yet wanting to return home was an emotion that everyone felt at one point or another.
"So did you immigrate to Pinu, then?"
"Immigrate?"
"What I mean is, did you migrate there from the south?"
Col gaped for a moment, then shook his head. "N-no, but there's story that the village's original location sank into the bottom of a lake created in a landslide."
"Oh no, I just mean that not many people from the northlands study Church law."
Col's eyes twinkled at the words, and he smiled with a touch of self-consciousness. "My master—er, I mean, Professor Rient—used to say such things, as well. 'If only more people from the pagan lands would open their eyes to the Church's teachings,' he would say."
Lawrence wondered why Col's bashful smile seemed so self-conscious.
"No doubt. Did any missionaries come to your town?"
If they had been moderate missionaries, it would be by God's grace. Most fought with sword in hand, engaging in plunder and murder under the auspices of "reform."
But if that had been the case, Col would have learned to loathe the Church and would never have thought to study Church law.
"No missionaries came to Pinu," he said, and again his gaze was fixed in the distance.
His profile was somehow terribly unsuited to his true age.
"They came to a village two mountains away—a place smaller than Pinu, with many hunters skilled in trapping owl and fox. One day men came there from out of the south and built a church."
It seemed unlikely that Col would then explain that the villagers had thankfully listened to the missionaries' sermons and opened their eyes to God.
The reason was obvious.
"But," said Lawrence, "each village had its own god; those who rebelled against the Church were—"
Surprised, Col looked at Lawrence.
That was more than enough.
"I guess you'd have to say I'm an enemy of the Church now. Can you explain what happened?" asked Lawrence.
Still stunned, Col seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but unable to form the words, he closed his mouth.
He looked down, casting his gaze this way and that, before looking back up at Lawrence.
"Truly?"
It was obvious Col was unused to doubting other people.
If he stayed this softhearted, much suffering awaited him.
And yet for all that, it was part of the boy's charm.
"Yes, in God's name I swear."
Col's wincing face was so charming that Lawrence couldn't help patting the boy's head.
"...The headmen of all the villages in our region hadn't assembled in 220 years, I heard," began Col. "They met for many days, discussing whether to bow to the Church or to fight back. As I remember it, the mood wasn't one of agreeing to hold a discussion with the Church, I don't think. The news that reached us across the mountains every day was only about who had been executed. But eventually winter came, and the leader of the Church fell ill, and we were saved when he left the mountain, muttering that he didn't want to die in a pagan land like this. Of course, if it had come to a fight, we knew the mountains and there were more of us, so we would have won."
If that had been the real intent, they would have done so when the Church started taking violent action.
The reason they hadn't was because they all understood what would happen if reinforcements arrived.
It wasn't as though no information ever entered the mountain villages from the outside world.
"But after the Church leader became ill and had to simply withdraw, I began thinking."
As soon as he said it, Lawrence understood.
Col was a bright lad.
Instead of thinking about his personal beliefs, he chose to take the most logical path to defend his village.
He realized the absurd power that came with wearing the robes of a high-ranking priest, the power to begin and end the exchange of human lives at will.
He would study Church law and eat into its power structures.
That was how Col intended to protect his village.
"And no one opposed your decision?"
Even Holo would become emotional, talking of her homeland.


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

Input:
Yet wanting to return home was an emotion that everyone felt at one point or another.
"So did you immigrate to Pinu, then?"
"Immigrate?"
"What I mean is, did you migrate there from the south?"
Col gaped for a moment, then shook his head. "N-no, but there's story that the village's original location sank into the bottom of a lake created in a landslide."
"Oh no, I just mean that not many people from the northlands study Church law."
Col's eyes twinkled at the words, and he smiled with a touch of self-consciousness. "My master—er, I mean, Professor Rient—used to say such things, as well. 'If only more people from the pagan lands would open their eyes to the Church's teachings,' he would say."
Lawrence wondered why Col's bashful smile seemed so self-conscious.
"No doubt. Did any missionaries come to your town?"
If they had been moderate missionaries, it would be by God's grace. Most fought with sword in hand, engaging in plunder and murder under the auspices of "reform."
But if that had been the case, Col would have learned to loathe the Church and would never have thought to study Church law.
"No missionaries came to Pinu," he said, and again his gaze was fixed in the distance.
His profile was somehow terribly unsuited to his true age.
"They came to a village two mountains away—a place smaller than Pinu, with many hunters skilled in trapping owl and fox. One day men came there from out of the south and built a church."
It seemed unlikely that Col would then explain that the villagers had thankfully listened to the missionaries' sermons and opened their eyes to God.
The reason was obvious.
"But," said Lawrence, "each village had its own god; those who rebelled against the Church were—"
Surprised, Col looked at Lawrence.
That was more than enough.
"I guess you'd have to say I'm an enemy of the Church now. Can you explain what happened?" asked Lawrence.
Still stunned, Col seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but unable to form the words, he closed his mouth.
He looked down, casting his gaze this way and that, before looking back up at Lawrence.
"Truly?"
It was obvious Col was unused to doubting other people.
If he stayed this softhearted, much suffering awaited him.
And yet for all that, it was part of the boy's charm.
"Yes, in God's name I swear."
Col's wincing face was so charming that Lawrence couldn't help patting the boy's head.
"...The headmen of all the villages in our region hadn't assembled in 220 years, I heard," began Col. "They met for many days, discussing whether to bow to the Church or to fight back. As I remember it, the mood wasn't one of agreeing to hold a discussion with the Church, I don't think. The news that reached us across the mountains every day was only about who had been executed. But eventually winter came, and the leader of the Church fell ill, and we were saved when he left the mountain, muttering that he didn't want to die in a pagan land like this. Of course, if it had come to a fight, we knew the mountains and there were more of us, so we would have won."
If that had been the real intent, they would have done so when the Church started taking violent action.
The reason they hadn't was because they all understood what would happen if reinforcements arrived.
It wasn't as though no information ever entered the mountain villages from the outside world.
"But after the Church leader became ill and had to simply withdraw, I began thinking."
As soon as he said it, Lawrence understood.
Col was a bright lad.
Instead of thinking about his personal beliefs, he chose to take the most logical path to defend his village.
He realized the absurd power that came with wearing the robes of a high-ranking priest, the power to begin and end the exchange of human lives at will.
He would study Church law and eat into its power structures.
That was how Col intended to protect his village.
"And no one opposed your decision?"
Even Holo would become emotional, talking of her homeland.

Output:
"I see. They must have believed that you could do it."
Col nodded, then stopped to wipe his tears on his shoulder before walking again. "They secretly lent me some money, too...so I have to find a way to get back in school."
His greatest motivation was perhaps the need for money.
He who fought for the sake of something else was always stronger than he who fought for himself.
Lawrence was not, however, so prosperous that he could afford to become Col's patron.
But he might be able to give the boy some small aid.
By teaching him how to make a bit of money and how to avoid traps, Lawrence might be able to bring a bit of color to the boy's journey.
"I can't really help you out with your money problems right now, but..."
Col sniffled. "Oh! N-no, that's not—"
"But about that copper coin. If you can find enough of an answer to convince Ragusa, then there might be a reward in it for you."
The reason Lawrence didn't stipulate the answer was because there was no way of knowing what that was without asking the Jean Company. But while that was impossible, they might infer enough of the truth to convince Ragusa.
There'd be no sin in expecting a reward for such a thing.
One had to reward anyone who helped pluck a thorn from his finger.
"Of course, the most helpful effect it will have is taking away the nervousness of the journey," said Lawrence with a smile, lightly patting Col's head.
While by Holo's standards, Lawrence was always being too serious, compared to this boy, he was practically mellow.
"Still, just a moment ago you said it looked like a festival—did you mean it looked like Pinu's festivals? Are they like that?" asked Lawrence, pointing at the grounded vessel now that the details of the scene had come into view.
A small mountain of wreckage from the ships had been collected on the riverbank, and beside it, several men were lighting fires and drying their clothes.
But that was certainly not the main event—the main event was the rope that extended from underneath the grounded vessel and the men on the shore that were pulling on it.
They were a mix of ages and appearances, with their only commonality being that their journey downriver had been interrupted by this calamity.
A few of the greediest were shouldering their cargoes and heading downriver, but most set them aside and put their backs into pulling on the rope.
Even a long-mantled knight on horseback was joining in the effort, so spirits were high. A few men were on the ship's deck with poles, keeping it from tipping over or being washed away—they raised their voices in chorus along with the rest.
Col watched the scene, entranced, then at length looked back at Lawrence. "This is more fun than that!"
Lawrence held back the words that came upon seeing Col's expression.
It was hard to imagine a more suitable apprentice should he choose to take one—and not just because Holo had said so.
Once Lawrence's journey with Holo came to an end, the cold, hard, lonely road of the traveling merchant still awaited him. And even if Col was no substitute for Holo, the lad could certainly sit in the driver's box beside Lawrence.
But Col had his own goals and did not exist only for Lawrence's convenience.
Which was why Lawrence forced himself not to ask, "Will you be my apprentice?" (though it took considerable effort).
Lawrence grumbled quietly to the gods that Col's goal was not becoming a merchant.
"I suppose we'd best help them out, then. Pulling on that rope will warm us against the chill."
"Yes, sir!"
Just as Lawrence and Col began to walk, Ragusa waved his pole with a smile and raised his voice, his boat slipping lightly down the river.
There was a huge difference between watching from afar and actually pulling on the rope.
The peaty ground sloshed around when stepped on, and without gloves, the rope and the cold air mercilessly wore away at the skin of the hands.