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

Input:
Ars looked up from the old, well-used paper she was writing on and smiled a sympathetic smile. "I know this is temporary, but since you're becoming a deacon, I think God's blessings will always be with you."
If she'd been the sort of person to leave out such consolations, she would've long since become a shrewd, cunning clothier.
My master nodded. "All right," she answered with a smile.
"If you've time, you should come by the workshop. I'll teach you a little."
"Huh?"
"You've been mending those clothes yourself, right? They're terrible," said Ars, pointing to my master's clothing.
There was no hiding the many patches and seams from all the mending she'd done, but my master hastily tried to cover them up anyway, her face red. Her ability with a needle and thread was one of the few things she took pride in, but such is the way of the world.
"I can teach you the basics, anyhow. Although there are a lot of things I still wanted to learn from my predecessor."
Ars seemed a fine clothier as she wrote on the paper with her quill pen. It was probably because she hadn't been eating well, but her slim form spoke of an ascetic virtue, and her unwavering, critical eye on the fabric had a special quality to it.
She was every inch the skilled young seamstress.
"...If you would, then."
At my master's words, Ars narrowed her eyes bashfully. "I will," she answered. "Oh, I can also teach you something else."
"Something else?"
"Yes," said Ars as she began to pack up her things.
It was getting quite late. Unable to hold back my sleepiness, I yawned, and it felt like the words that came next had been tossed right into my open mouth.
"I heard from the innkeeper that you were singing the clothiers' song a bit wrong."
A strange guffaw escaped from my throat. If I'd been human, I would've been holding my sides and laughing, I'm quite certain.
Ars grinned, but my master froze, blushing so red that it was obvious even in the dim tallow candlelight.
"Uh, um, er, that was...!"
"Ha-ha! Well, it's a bit late for it tonight, but I'll make sure to teach it to you properly. All the first-year apprentices have to learn it whether they like it or not. They even made me sing it in the town square," Ars said nostalgically as she gathered her things.
My master was so embarrassed there were tears at the corners of her eyes, but there was a bit of happiness in her expression, too.
"So in exchange," said Ars, poking me playfully in the side with the tip of her toe, "teach me some shepherds' songs."
I turned my gaze to my master as I hurried to my feet. Her face was frozen, and then her eyes went to the wall, where her distinctive shepherd's staff rested.
She could have claimed she needed it for travel. And yet my master looked back at Ars, trying to unstick her quivering lips.
But it was Ars who spoke first, a faint smile on her face. "I heard from Johan. He comes from a long line of hated moneylenders. He was really worried. Aw, you don't have to make such a face."
Ars took two, then three steps toward my master, drawing close to whisper something in her ear. "It would make me think I ought to take a moneylender as a husband."
***
I must admit that I was impressed with how many facial expressions my master assumed in such a short amount of time. "Well, I'll be off." Ars's eyes narrowed in amusement, and she turned to leave. "Sorry about yesterday, pup."
My name was Enek.
I gave a bark to make my point and watched her leave.
Once Ars left the room, the only sound left was the burning of the candle. I looked back at my master. She stood there with her hands on her cheeks, her expression complicated and speechless.
She would need more training before she could become a properly stoic deacon.
I curled up at my master's feet, and she looked down at me, her hands still on her cheeks. "Did she say 'husband'?"
So that was what had tripped her up, eh? I yawned and supposed it was a healthy reaction for a human girl.

Output:
Evidently Giuseppe had awoken the previous night and left a message. He was not feeling well, and, planning to rise in the afternoon, he'd written prayers for my master to practice on a small, cramped scrap of cloth.
If the grand breakfast we'd enjoyed before had been thanks for our rescue of Giuseppe, the fact that today's breakfast included wheat bread again must have been the whole town's thanks for my master's decision to come to its aid.
I received my share, but I endured some teasing from my master in the process. And it was true, I didn't have to memorize anything, but I still felt some confidence in how much I'd supported her. The work of a knight was so frequently thought of as easy.
"...So be it. God is..."
My master murmured as she practiced. She'd removed one of her sandals and stroked my back with her bare foot.
When she made a mistake she would grab my fur with her toes and pull, only moving on to another spot when she finally remembered the passage, poking me in the ribs with her foot and sighing.
A lake's water will only become clean if it's deep enough for the silt to fall to the bottom. If it makes my master happy, I'll happily take as much silt as I have to, but it would have been nice for my selfless sacrifice beneath the table to earn me some praise from someone.
Or at the very least, if she would have just stopped poking my ears with her toes. Those were the only times I raised my head and put my cold nose to her feet.
"...Illuminated by...His glory. For...for...ugh...!" My master's voice was strained as she tried to remember, and it reminded me of the way she sounded when she watched the sheep giving birth.
When she finally remembered, I couldn't be certain whether there was a sound or not, but she stood up suddenly and spoke. "For thus is the will of God!"
She recited the rest easily, and it seemed she had finally managed to memorize the passage.
My master stroked my back roughly with her foot. I was well aware of her ability to concentrate, so any worry on my part would've been wasted effort. We couldn't talk to each other, but I remembered how quickly she'd become such an excellent shepherd. Compared with that, the simple memorization of a written passage was nothing.
"Ugh...I was worried about memorizing the first part, but...yes. It wasn't that hard to remember, really. Hey, Enek, are you listening?"
My master peered under the table at me, and I begrudgingly crawled out from under it.
She petted my head with a rare, self-satisfied smile. "Do you think you could learn a word or two yourself, Enek?"
I was a knight, and knights had no need for words. I turned away, and my master laughed through her nose like a proud child, rubbing my head as though making some small sport of me.
I wondered if I ought to be angry, but it had been so long since I'd seen her so carefree. Being as generous as I was, I bore the indignity without complaint.
"Oh, that's right, what time is it now?"
Though the window was open, in this unfamiliar room it was hard to tell the hour from the light coming through it. My master stood from the table, stuck her head out the window, and considered the sky.
It was refreshing to see her like this. Previously, when she looked at the sky in town, she would have been doing so from within a sheep pen strewn with hay and surrounded by rats and chickens, lying among them like someone stricken with a fever.
And then she would look up at the one tiny window high in the barn that was there only to let in a tiny amount of daylight and from that try to guess the hour. Her face would be resigned, despairing, and it would pain me to see it.
How much happier it was, then, to see her like this.
Someone she knew must have been passing by because I saw my master wave her hand out the window.
"We'd better hurry, Enek!"
I gave a bark and stood ready by the door.
My master hastily prepared herself, then mostly out of reflex, she turned her eyes to a certain place.


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

Input:
Evidently Giuseppe had awoken the previous night and left a message. He was not feeling well, and, planning to rise in the afternoon, he'd written prayers for my master to practice on a small, cramped scrap of cloth.
If the grand breakfast we'd enjoyed before had been thanks for our rescue of Giuseppe, the fact that today's breakfast included wheat bread again must have been the whole town's thanks for my master's decision to come to its aid.
I received my share, but I endured some teasing from my master in the process. And it was true, I didn't have to memorize anything, but I still felt some confidence in how much I'd supported her. The work of a knight was so frequently thought of as easy.
"...So be it. God is..."
My master murmured as she practiced. She'd removed one of her sandals and stroked my back with her bare foot.
When she made a mistake she would grab my fur with her toes and pull, only moving on to another spot when she finally remembered the passage, poking me in the ribs with her foot and sighing.
A lake's water will only become clean if it's deep enough for the silt to fall to the bottom. If it makes my master happy, I'll happily take as much silt as I have to, but it would have been nice for my selfless sacrifice beneath the table to earn me some praise from someone.
Or at the very least, if she would have just stopped poking my ears with her toes. Those were the only times I raised my head and put my cold nose to her feet.
"...Illuminated by...His glory. For...for...ugh...!" My master's voice was strained as she tried to remember, and it reminded me of the way she sounded when she watched the sheep giving birth.
When she finally remembered, I couldn't be certain whether there was a sound or not, but she stood up suddenly and spoke. "For thus is the will of God!"
She recited the rest easily, and it seemed she had finally managed to memorize the passage.
My master stroked my back roughly with her foot. I was well aware of her ability to concentrate, so any worry on my part would've been wasted effort. We couldn't talk to each other, but I remembered how quickly she'd become such an excellent shepherd. Compared with that, the simple memorization of a written passage was nothing.
"Ugh...I was worried about memorizing the first part, but...yes. It wasn't that hard to remember, really. Hey, Enek, are you listening?"
My master peered under the table at me, and I begrudgingly crawled out from under it.
She petted my head with a rare, self-satisfied smile. "Do you think you could learn a word or two yourself, Enek?"
I was a knight, and knights had no need for words. I turned away, and my master laughed through her nose like a proud child, rubbing my head as though making some small sport of me.
I wondered if I ought to be angry, but it had been so long since I'd seen her so carefree. Being as generous as I was, I bore the indignity without complaint.
"Oh, that's right, what time is it now?"
Though the window was open, in this unfamiliar room it was hard to tell the hour from the light coming through it. My master stood from the table, stuck her head out the window, and considered the sky.
It was refreshing to see her like this. Previously, when she looked at the sky in town, she would have been doing so from within a sheep pen strewn with hay and surrounded by rats and chickens, lying among them like someone stricken with a fever.
And then she would look up at the one tiny window high in the barn that was there only to let in a tiny amount of daylight and from that try to guess the hour. Her face would be resigned, despairing, and it would pain me to see it.
How much happier it was, then, to see her like this.
Someone she knew must have been passing by because I saw my master wave her hand out the window.
"We'd better hurry, Enek!"
I gave a bark and stood ready by the door.
My master hastily prepared herself, then mostly out of reflex, she turned her eyes to a certain place.

Output:
Because of that staff, my master had suffered terrible things. And yet that same staff had seen her through to this place.
Worried, I started to back away from the door—but then I stopped because my master looked back at me with a slightly bashful smile.
We had to move on. And to do that, some things would have to be left behind.
When such times come, we need not feel sad, nor guilty, nor cling to old things.
All we need to do is feel grateful.
My master's hand stroked my head, and I gave another bark.
She opened the inn's door, and we took a single step out into the wide, unknown world.
End.
***
Long time no see. Isuna Hasekura here. This is Volume 13. It's a collection of short stories. To everyone waiting for the continuation of the main story, my sincere apologies. However, to the Norah fans: Here you go, a brand-new story about Norah. It covers the days following her parting with Lawrence. Enek was inexcusable! Inexcusable, I say!
I was writing Norah, and her character is so simple, so hapless, that I just couldn't get excited about the story somehow...so as a last resort, I turned to Enek. Outrageous!
The other short stories are business as usual. The only exception is the one written from Holo's perspective. That one ran in a special insert in Dengeki Maoh, and I very much hope you'll enjoy it.
By the way, I had a lot of fun this summer. Every year at the end of summer, I find myself regretting it and thinking, "Gosh, I really didn't get to do anything fun," so this year I went a little overboard and packed it full of plans. First, around the end of July, I got my diving license in Izu; in the beginning of August, I did a signing in Hong Kong, and fortunately, managed to extend my stay to five nights. In the middle of the month, I went to Comiket; then toward the end of the month, I stayed three nights in Furano, Hokkaido. And just a week before I wrote this afterword, I did a one-night trip and went diving. Also, after fooling around on the guitar for a month and a half, I finally got so I can play one song.
Now that I write it all out, it looks like I really did have a lot of fun.
I'm sorry! I'll get back to work!
Speaking of work, the books and second season of the anime are both coming to an end, and we're getting into the endgame. Short stories aside, when I think about how few volumes are left, I get very emotional. But I can't just keep writing it forever, and I've already started preparation for my next project.
The contents are still a secret, but I hope to really surprise people.
On that note, we'll return to the main story in the next volume! If all goes as planned, it'll be out around the beginning of next year, I think. A single year isn't much time.
Let us meet again in the next volume.
Isuna Hasekura
***
"We need to talk."
So she had said, and immediately upon entering the room, he was entranced by the sight that greeted him.
So lovely, he thought.
She was sitting on the bed, gazing out the window. That was all.
However, beautiful as it was, that was not to say it was simple. It was true that she had handsome features, and her brown skin gave her an exotic, foreign charm. But more than that, her profile had a clarity to it, like a crystal that had been polished round, until it was free of any edges.
If humans were prone to locking horns, both giving and receiving injury as they pursued their passions, then the profile he saw seemed somehow far removed from all those tragedies.
He spied a chair, and eased himself down onto it.
She did not look at him, but waited until he was seated to speak. "In Lenos, there's a dealer of goods named Philon."
Her words came suddenly, but he did not ask after her meaning. Something about that profile made such questions seem tactless.
"At least, he appears to be a goods dealer. But behind the facade, he's a supplier of mercenaries." She finally looked at him. "If you and your companion give him my name, I am certain he will tell you something that will be of use to you."


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

Input:
Because of that staff, my master had suffered terrible things. And yet that same staff had seen her through to this place.
Worried, I started to back away from the door—but then I stopped because my master looked back at me with a slightly bashful smile.
We had to move on. And to do that, some things would have to be left behind.
When such times come, we need not feel sad, nor guilty, nor cling to old things.
All we need to do is feel grateful.
My master's hand stroked my head, and I gave another bark.
She opened the inn's door, and we took a single step out into the wide, unknown world.
End.
***
Long time no see. Isuna Hasekura here. This is Volume 13. It's a collection of short stories. To everyone waiting for the continuation of the main story, my sincere apologies. However, to the Norah fans: Here you go, a brand-new story about Norah. It covers the days following her parting with Lawrence. Enek was inexcusable! Inexcusable, I say!
I was writing Norah, and her character is so simple, so hapless, that I just couldn't get excited about the story somehow...so as a last resort, I turned to Enek. Outrageous!
The other short stories are business as usual. The only exception is the one written from Holo's perspective. That one ran in a special insert in Dengeki Maoh, and I very much hope you'll enjoy it.
By the way, I had a lot of fun this summer. Every year at the end of summer, I find myself regretting it and thinking, "Gosh, I really didn't get to do anything fun," so this year I went a little overboard and packed it full of plans. First, around the end of July, I got my diving license in Izu; in the beginning of August, I did a signing in Hong Kong, and fortunately, managed to extend my stay to five nights. In the middle of the month, I went to Comiket; then toward the end of the month, I stayed three nights in Furano, Hokkaido. And just a week before I wrote this afterword, I did a one-night trip and went diving. Also, after fooling around on the guitar for a month and a half, I finally got so I can play one song.
Now that I write it all out, it looks like I really did have a lot of fun.
I'm sorry! I'll get back to work!
Speaking of work, the books and second season of the anime are both coming to an end, and we're getting into the endgame. Short stories aside, when I think about how few volumes are left, I get very emotional. But I can't just keep writing it forever, and I've already started preparation for my next project.
The contents are still a secret, but I hope to really surprise people.
On that note, we'll return to the main story in the next volume! If all goes as planned, it'll be out around the beginning of next year, I think. A single year isn't much time.
Let us meet again in the next volume.
Isuna Hasekura
***
"We need to talk."
So she had said, and immediately upon entering the room, he was entranced by the sight that greeted him.
So lovely, he thought.
She was sitting on the bed, gazing out the window. That was all.
However, beautiful as it was, that was not to say it was simple. It was true that she had handsome features, and her brown skin gave her an exotic, foreign charm. But more than that, her profile had a clarity to it, like a crystal that had been polished round, until it was free of any edges.
If humans were prone to locking horns, both giving and receiving injury as they pursued their passions, then the profile he saw seemed somehow far removed from all those tragedies.
He spied a chair, and eased himself down onto it.
She did not look at him, but waited until he was seated to speak. "In Lenos, there's a dealer of goods named Philon."
Her words came suddenly, but he did not ask after her meaning. Something about that profile made such questions seem tactless.
"At least, he appears to be a goods dealer. But behind the facade, he's a supplier of mercenaries." She finally looked at him. "If you and your companion give him my name, I am certain he will tell you something that will be of use to you."

Output:
The mercenary world had its own rules. It was governed not by the merchant's calculations of profit and loss, nor by the knight's bonds of honor, but by principles that were elusive to all who did not live in that world. How would things go for a merchant who intruded upon it?
At the very least, it might well cause problems for the one who was sitting on the bed.
"He owes me that much," she said with a smile, still sitting on said bed. She looked out the window again.
He found himself thinking back to the nun who had lent them that battered old blanket when they had first set out, saying she no longer needed it.
"Philon procures goods, as well as the merchant marine reckless enough to carry them, for mercenaries. If fighting has awoken in the northlands, he should at least know where the money is flowing and from whom."
Those who undertook bringing mercenaries necessary supplies were as important to them as their own hearts, and any fighter would surely try to hide them from outsiders as much as possible.
Given that, the girl who had given him this crucial piece of information had clearly decided to make a break from her past. Her profile at rest still somehow looked to be smiling, and it was certain that she was facing forward.
Perhaps that was why Lawrence chose his words carefully, if mischievously. "I thank you for this unexpected compensation."
The girl made an expression of surprise and turned to face him. A charmingly wry smile appeared on her face in turn. "I said nothing about this being compensation. I fully intend to fulfill my original promise, whatever your doubts."
Her words were compounded by a deliberate sigh of relief, then a laugh.
It was an exchange that Lawrence could have scarcely imagined mere days earlier. She had been utterly single-minded in her search for that place, her ultimate goal. Now that she had found it, her ability to smile the way she did made Lawrence feel as though he were witnessing the very essence of salvation.
"Still, given my state at the moment...," she said, raising her right hand and looking very weak indeed.
Through the hole of her sleeve Lawrence could see the bandages that were wrapped around her torso, and although it was difficult to notice, her cheeks were actually rather sunken.
"So you're saying it will take time?" Lawrence said.
"No," said the girl with a soft smile. "I've asked him to draw you the map in my place. I'm having the necessary materials collected. He's a good artist, so he ought to be able to draw a map from dictation."
"You mean—"
"Yes. He, too, traveled the land with his brushes."
Lawrence had no response, realizing that he had underestimated the man.
This was the home of an art seller, and the topic of their conversation was its master. Lawrence had assumed that the man lacked the courage to take up the brush himself and had settled for collecting the works of others.
But everyone has a past.
"When I said I wanted him to draw the map in my stead, he was terribly enthusiastic about it. Of course"—she said, smiling a mischievous smile—"he may have been enthusiastic only about my request to be allowed to stay here whilst I earn traveling funds."
The girl was a crafter of silver goods whose quality put them in high demand among the worldly, wealthy, and powerful. Even Lawrence could not guess at how much her works might be worth.
"I'm sure you're in a hurry, so I'll have the map sent to you as soon as it's finished. If I used a messenger on a fast horse, it may well be delivered to you as soon as you arrive in Lenos."
It would take four or five days to reach Lenos by horse-drawn wagon. Not having to wait for the map to be completed would save a significant amount of time.
"Thank you, so much."
She smiled pleasantly upon hearing the depth of his gratitude.


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

Input:
The mercenary world had its own rules. It was governed not by the merchant's calculations of profit and loss, nor by the knight's bonds of honor, but by principles that were elusive to all who did not live in that world. How would things go for a merchant who intruded upon it?
At the very least, it might well cause problems for the one who was sitting on the bed.
"He owes me that much," she said with a smile, still sitting on said bed. She looked out the window again.
He found himself thinking back to the nun who had lent them that battered old blanket when they had first set out, saying she no longer needed it.
"Philon procures goods, as well as the merchant marine reckless enough to carry them, for mercenaries. If fighting has awoken in the northlands, he should at least know where the money is flowing and from whom."
Those who undertook bringing mercenaries necessary supplies were as important to them as their own hearts, and any fighter would surely try to hide them from outsiders as much as possible.
Given that, the girl who had given him this crucial piece of information had clearly decided to make a break from her past. Her profile at rest still somehow looked to be smiling, and it was certain that she was facing forward.
Perhaps that was why Lawrence chose his words carefully, if mischievously. "I thank you for this unexpected compensation."
The girl made an expression of surprise and turned to face him. A charmingly wry smile appeared on her face in turn. "I said nothing about this being compensation. I fully intend to fulfill my original promise, whatever your doubts."
Her words were compounded by a deliberate sigh of relief, then a laugh.
It was an exchange that Lawrence could have scarcely imagined mere days earlier. She had been utterly single-minded in her search for that place, her ultimate goal. Now that she had found it, her ability to smile the way she did made Lawrence feel as though he were witnessing the very essence of salvation.
"Still, given my state at the moment...," she said, raising her right hand and looking very weak indeed.
Through the hole of her sleeve Lawrence could see the bandages that were wrapped around her torso, and although it was difficult to notice, her cheeks were actually rather sunken.
"So you're saying it will take time?" Lawrence said.
"No," said the girl with a soft smile. "I've asked him to draw you the map in my place. I'm having the necessary materials collected. He's a good artist, so he ought to be able to draw a map from dictation."
"You mean—"
"Yes. He, too, traveled the land with his brushes."
Lawrence had no response, realizing that he had underestimated the man.
This was the home of an art seller, and the topic of their conversation was its master. Lawrence had assumed that the man lacked the courage to take up the brush himself and had settled for collecting the works of others.
But everyone has a past.
"When I said I wanted him to draw the map in my stead, he was terribly enthusiastic about it. Of course"—she said, smiling a mischievous smile—"he may have been enthusiastic only about my request to be allowed to stay here whilst I earn traveling funds."
The girl was a crafter of silver goods whose quality put them in high demand among the worldly, wealthy, and powerful. Even Lawrence could not guess at how much her works might be worth.
"I'm sure you're in a hurry, so I'll have the map sent to you as soon as it's finished. If I used a messenger on a fast horse, it may well be delivered to you as soon as you arrive in Lenos."
It would take four or five days to reach Lenos by horse-drawn wagon. Not having to wait for the map to be completed would save a significant amount of time.
"Thank you, so much."
She smiled pleasantly upon hearing the depth of his gratitude.

Output:
He quietly indicated his intention to leave.
She smiled a tired smile, sighing as she sank back down into the pillow behind her back. So she had been pushing herself. It seemed her reputation as the former chaplain of a mercenary band was not just talk.
Lawrence opened the door behind him, stepped through with a respectful bow, and softly closed it.
"You heard her," he said, facing forward as he strode down the hall.
Beside him walked his traveling companion, who'd come up beside him with footfalls as silent as some forest creature.
Her face was terribly sulky, as though she were deeply unamused with something. "Did I, then?"
She hid neither her tone nor her displeasure, but even after he had thought about it for a bit, Lawrence hit upon no obvious reason for it. Was she merely jealous that he had spent time alone with someone else?
As he was considering the absurd possibility, his traveling companion stopped in her tracks, and without waiting for him to turn around, she spoke. "I still can't manage such a face."
Lawrence was not exactly surprised, but her words still struck him with some force. He backtracked the steps he had walked past her, then stroked her downturned head through her hood.
"Worried your appeal is lessened by the demands you make?"
The snap sound that followed was the sound of his hand narrowly avoiding being bitten. Her red-tinged amber eyes glared at him, sharp.
"I am a merchant, and a merchant's customers are never satisfied. If they were, they wouldn't need anything from the merchant. It'd be the end of the business," he countered.
For that reason, Holo had a powerful desire to see Yoitsu. Merchants craved customers with powerful desires, and as such, she was a perfect match for him.
Lawrence withdrew his hand, and she resumed walking sourly along. "Honest?" she said, clinging to his side.
"You'd know whether or not it was a lie, wouldn't you?" he asked tiredly, and her hood rustled unnaturally. Among her strands of hair, out from under the hood peeked tufts of dark fur—her pointed wolf's ears.
"I'll believe you, just this once," she said, haughty.
"Is that so."
"Aye."
Neither could hide their laughter at the silly exchange.
But just as laughing revealed the lines in one's face, there was a shadow behind the conversation.
Lawrence's companion could not imitate Fran's face—her serene expression of having truly left behind all the things that haunted her. But that lack was also how Lawrence could continue traveling with Holo.
Yet was that only a momentary state of being? Or would it continue on, far into the future?
When Holo's desire was satisfied, Lawrence would have no further cause to stay with her, but nonetheless, he had no wish to see her eternally unfulfilled. If it were in his power to do so, he wished to make her smile.
He knew his was a selfish hope, and he found his own all-too-clear wishes rather sickening.
In any case, it was not the merchant way to give in to hardship. Problems were simply opportunities for a solution.
They descended the stairs and walked down a hallway. "If we were to spice up our traveling rations a bit, what would you like?" Lawrence asked as he put his hand on the door to their room.
He caught a glimpse of the smile he loved so dearly. He felt a little proud of himself for being able to bring it out.
Without guilt or hesitation, his companion made clear her desire for the finest wheat bread and the clearest wine, and he could hardly fault her for it. She had not cut herself free from her past, nor did she likely intend to.
The map he had been discussing only moments before would lead them right to that past. That same map would soon be in their hands, and they might well count on its accuracy. So it was that his companion's tail was puffed pitiably up, in a mix of anticipation and dread.
There was nothing he could do about her tail, so painfully bristled because of his words. Instead, he would try to fill her belly, and perhaps her tail would smooth itself in turn.


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

Input:
He quietly indicated his intention to leave.
She smiled a tired smile, sighing as she sank back down into the pillow behind her back. So she had been pushing herself. It seemed her reputation as the former chaplain of a mercenary band was not just talk.
Lawrence opened the door behind him, stepped through with a respectful bow, and softly closed it.
"You heard her," he said, facing forward as he strode down the hall.
Beside him walked his traveling companion, who'd come up beside him with footfalls as silent as some forest creature.
Her face was terribly sulky, as though she were deeply unamused with something. "Did I, then?"
She hid neither her tone nor her displeasure, but even after he had thought about it for a bit, Lawrence hit upon no obvious reason for it. Was she merely jealous that he had spent time alone with someone else?
As he was considering the absurd possibility, his traveling companion stopped in her tracks, and without waiting for him to turn around, she spoke. "I still can't manage such a face."
Lawrence was not exactly surprised, but her words still struck him with some force. He backtracked the steps he had walked past her, then stroked her downturned head through her hood.
"Worried your appeal is lessened by the demands you make?"
The snap sound that followed was the sound of his hand narrowly avoiding being bitten. Her red-tinged amber eyes glared at him, sharp.
"I am a merchant, and a merchant's customers are never satisfied. If they were, they wouldn't need anything from the merchant. It'd be the end of the business," he countered.
For that reason, Holo had a powerful desire to see Yoitsu. Merchants craved customers with powerful desires, and as such, she was a perfect match for him.
Lawrence withdrew his hand, and she resumed walking sourly along. "Honest?" she said, clinging to his side.
"You'd know whether or not it was a lie, wouldn't you?" he asked tiredly, and her hood rustled unnaturally. Among her strands of hair, out from under the hood peeked tufts of dark fur—her pointed wolf's ears.
"I'll believe you, just this once," she said, haughty.
"Is that so."
"Aye."
Neither could hide their laughter at the silly exchange.
But just as laughing revealed the lines in one's face, there was a shadow behind the conversation.
Lawrence's companion could not imitate Fran's face—her serene expression of having truly left behind all the things that haunted her. But that lack was also how Lawrence could continue traveling with Holo.
Yet was that only a momentary state of being? Or would it continue on, far into the future?
When Holo's desire was satisfied, Lawrence would have no further cause to stay with her, but nonetheless, he had no wish to see her eternally unfulfilled. If it were in his power to do so, he wished to make her smile.
He knew his was a selfish hope, and he found his own all-too-clear wishes rather sickening.
In any case, it was not the merchant way to give in to hardship. Problems were simply opportunities for a solution.
They descended the stairs and walked down a hallway. "If we were to spice up our traveling rations a bit, what would you like?" Lawrence asked as he put his hand on the door to their room.
He caught a glimpse of the smile he loved so dearly. He felt a little proud of himself for being able to bring it out.
Without guilt or hesitation, his companion made clear her desire for the finest wheat bread and the clearest wine, and he could hardly fault her for it. She had not cut herself free from her past, nor did she likely intend to.
The map he had been discussing only moments before would lead them right to that past. That same map would soon be in their hands, and they might well count on its accuracy. So it was that his companion's tail was puffed pitiably up, in a mix of anticipation and dread.
There was nothing he could do about her tail, so painfully bristled because of his words. Instead, he would try to fill her belly, and perhaps her tail would smooth itself in turn.

Output:
***
Their old blankets resembled nothing so much as tree bark, so they were replaced with fluffy new ones—likewise overcoats, mufflers, hats, and gloves. Next came the food: Wheat bread topped the list, with salted meat and fish, various vegetables, along with medicinal herbs. And of course wine: the finest grape wine that could be had.
As Hugues busied himself with loading their wagon, he weathered Lawrence's constant thanks with a bulwark of tired laughter.
Five days had passed since the events surrounding Fran, the traveling artist and silversmith. Fran had been badly wounded in all the commotion, and it had been only the previous day that a life-threatening fever brought on by her wounds had finally broken.
The promised map had yet to be drawn, but as soon as Fran regained consciousness and opened her eyes, she had summoned Lawrence to her room to discuss the matter. Hurrying her any further would have been a betrayal of trust.
But that did not mean they could afford to tarry, and at Fran's suggestion, Lawrence and Holo would set out again, rather than waiting for the map to be completed.
With their eyes on Yoitsu, they would return temporarily to Lenos. It would be a convenient place to leave the wagon Lawrence had done so much business with, and more important, it was situated at a convenient entry point into the true northlands.
They ought to have arrived by boat, but unfortunately no such option existed for their return. So it was that Lawrence found himself borrowing a wagon from Hugues. He had thought to carry something to Lenos on Hugues's behalf to offset this favor, but Lawrence seemed to be the only one concerned with such trivialities.
Merchants were largely a duty-bound group, and some of them took this far beyond profit and loss calculations. Hugues seemed to be the epitome of such folk and, despite Lawrence's refusals, loaded one expensive piece of travel supply after another into the wagon. Lawrence did not feel free to suggest that he would pay for the use of the wagon, even as a joke. Holo was overjoyed, but from Lawrence's perspective, the generosity was something of a burden.
All debts had to be repaid, after all.
It was fine while one was borrowing, but thinking about what would come after made him depressed, frankly.
"Whew...well, this ought to do it," said Hugues as he finished loading a sack of unrefined flour into the wagon.
If Lawrence were to simply turn around and sell the gifts off, he could make a lot of money, although to Hugues it was probably no great sum. And in any case, Hugues seemed even happier than the delighted Holo in the wagon bed, so Lawrence made no move to stop him. It was rather amusing to see a sheep spirit like Hugues so busily aiding a wolf like Holo, but it was not as though this was none of Lawrence's business.
Holo immediately found some jerky and leaned back against a rolled-up blanket.
Lawrence said another thank-you, and Hugues shook his head as though it were nothing. Then he drew close to Lawrence's ear and whispered something Lawrence would not forget: "Given the coin value of how much I've made, I feel honestly bad that I'm only giving you this much."
There were no better words he could have spoken to make Lawrence feel better about the mountain of gifts. Hugues was obviously telling the truth, so all Lawrence had to do was happily accept his largesse.
"I thank you," said Lawrence one last time, taking Hugues's hand.
"Regarding the letter Miss Fran requested, when it's finished, I'll have it sent to you on a fast horse." Then it would be delivered to the Beast and Fish Tail, a famous tavern with devotees as far away as Kerube. "Oh, and one more thing," said Hugues, glancing at Holo in the wagon bed.
Holo was idly gnawing away at her jerky as she gazed up at the clear sky and seemed not to be listening to them.
"I'll send it, as well."


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

Input:
***
Their old blankets resembled nothing so much as tree bark, so they were replaced with fluffy new ones—likewise overcoats, mufflers, hats, and gloves. Next came the food: Wheat bread topped the list, with salted meat and fish, various vegetables, along with medicinal herbs. And of course wine: the finest grape wine that could be had.
As Hugues busied himself with loading their wagon, he weathered Lawrence's constant thanks with a bulwark of tired laughter.
Five days had passed since the events surrounding Fran, the traveling artist and silversmith. Fran had been badly wounded in all the commotion, and it had been only the previous day that a life-threatening fever brought on by her wounds had finally broken.
The promised map had yet to be drawn, but as soon as Fran regained consciousness and opened her eyes, she had summoned Lawrence to her room to discuss the matter. Hurrying her any further would have been a betrayal of trust.
But that did not mean they could afford to tarry, and at Fran's suggestion, Lawrence and Holo would set out again, rather than waiting for the map to be completed.
With their eyes on Yoitsu, they would return temporarily to Lenos. It would be a convenient place to leave the wagon Lawrence had done so much business with, and more important, it was situated at a convenient entry point into the true northlands.
They ought to have arrived by boat, but unfortunately no such option existed for their return. So it was that Lawrence found himself borrowing a wagon from Hugues. He had thought to carry something to Lenos on Hugues's behalf to offset this favor, but Lawrence seemed to be the only one concerned with such trivialities.
Merchants were largely a duty-bound group, and some of them took this far beyond profit and loss calculations. Hugues seemed to be the epitome of such folk and, despite Lawrence's refusals, loaded one expensive piece of travel supply after another into the wagon. Lawrence did not feel free to suggest that he would pay for the use of the wagon, even as a joke. Holo was overjoyed, but from Lawrence's perspective, the generosity was something of a burden.
All debts had to be repaid, after all.
It was fine while one was borrowing, but thinking about what would come after made him depressed, frankly.
"Whew...well, this ought to do it," said Hugues as he finished loading a sack of unrefined flour into the wagon.
If Lawrence were to simply turn around and sell the gifts off, he could make a lot of money, although to Hugues it was probably no great sum. And in any case, Hugues seemed even happier than the delighted Holo in the wagon bed, so Lawrence made no move to stop him. It was rather amusing to see a sheep spirit like Hugues so busily aiding a wolf like Holo, but it was not as though this was none of Lawrence's business.
Holo immediately found some jerky and leaned back against a rolled-up blanket.
Lawrence said another thank-you, and Hugues shook his head as though it were nothing. Then he drew close to Lawrence's ear and whispered something Lawrence would not forget: "Given the coin value of how much I've made, I feel honestly bad that I'm only giving you this much."
There were no better words he could have spoken to make Lawrence feel better about the mountain of gifts. Hugues was obviously telling the truth, so all Lawrence had to do was happily accept his largesse.
"I thank you," said Lawrence one last time, taking Hugues's hand.
"Regarding the letter Miss Fran requested, when it's finished, I'll have it sent to you on a fast horse." Then it would be delivered to the Beast and Fish Tail, a famous tavern with devotees as far away as Kerube. "Oh, and one more thing," said Hugues, glancing at Holo in the wagon bed.
Holo was idly gnawing away at her jerky as she gazed up at the clear sky and seemed not to be listening to them.
"I'll send it, as well."

Output:
Even Col—who busied himself with picking up fallen vegetable leaves and wood chips and covering the wagon bed's contents with a tarp—would find the sentiment rather baffling, to say nothing of Holo. But given her wisewolf's pride, she would hardly venture to ask what they were talking about.
Part of this was that such questions would stir up extra trouble for her, and at the moment, she was also pretending more demure modesty than usual. At the same time, this could be used against her when he actually did want to hide something from her.
Hugues had only too readily taken advantage of that.
"We'll be off, then," said Lawrence, after putting Col in the wagon bed and settling himself in the driver's seat.
He urged the horse on, and the familiar clatter of clopping hooves and rattling cartwheels filled the air.
It was the merchant's way to forego lengthy good-byes and drawn-out words of thanks. "Time is money," went the saying, and anyway, it was best to make painful partings as short as possible. It was best to pull the arrow out of the wound quickly, after all.
Hugues's form would soon disappear into the crowds, and no doubt Fran's barely visible hand in the inn's window would likewise vanish. Lawrence heard the sound of the wistful, backward-facing Col sit down rather abruptly.
Once they passed through its walls and emerged from within the town, it, too, would sink into the scenery.
And before them was only the road.
Lawrence slapped the reins across the horses' hindquarters.
They were chilled by the occasional gusts of wind from over the river's surface.
The sky was a leaden gray, and its color, reflected in the river, made both look frozen, only adding to the chill. On top of that, the air was exceedingly dry, and one could practically feel the moisture draining from one's face.
Long ago, Lawrence had thought his master's habit of applying medicinal grease to his face in this season quite strange, but lately when he neglected his own health, flakes of skin soon appeared on his face.
He had been working alone as a merchant for seven years—ever since setting out at the age of eighteen—and perhaps the fatigue was finally catching up with him.
If so, so be it.
The problem was, his companion, who neglected her own health far more than he did, seemed to consider such worries utterly irrelevant to her own lot.
"Of course not, you fool," said his traveling companion Holo as she sat beside him. Her hair fluttered in the wind, brushing the corner of his eye and making it itch most unpleasantly. When he looked over at her profile, those were the words that greeted him. "You humans show your feelings on your face. We wolves show them with our fur. That I must curl my tail about Col every night lest he cry from the cold only makes it more so," she said with a displeased sigh, all the while tidying the fur before her.
It was no sash or wrap, but entirely her own: the fur of her tail.
Holo looked to be a girl in her teens, but her true form was that of a giant wolf, big enough to devour Lawrence in a single bite. A wolf who dwelled in the wheat and guaranteed its bountiful harvest.
As such, whenever she pulled back the hood over her head, two proudly pointed wolf ears appeared.
Although at first he had been unable to conceal his considerable fear of her, now it was not so. Though she was someone he would do well to never underestimate, she was nonetheless irreplaceable, his most treasured traveling companion.
"Is that so? It's so lovely that one such as I would never notice a flaw in it, so..."
His obvious flattery was delivered in a deadpan monotone, which earned him a stomp on his foot. But her tail still puffed up happily, which was why he had to resort to such childish tactics.
At length, they both sighed at the foolishness to which they had each sunk. The only reason they had resorted to repeating such familiar patterns was that there in the wagon, there was nothing else to do.


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

Input:
Even Col—who busied himself with picking up fallen vegetable leaves and wood chips and covering the wagon bed's contents with a tarp—would find the sentiment rather baffling, to say nothing of Holo. But given her wisewolf's pride, she would hardly venture to ask what they were talking about.
Part of this was that such questions would stir up extra trouble for her, and at the moment, she was also pretending more demure modesty than usual. At the same time, this could be used against her when he actually did want to hide something from her.
Hugues had only too readily taken advantage of that.
"We'll be off, then," said Lawrence, after putting Col in the wagon bed and settling himself in the driver's seat.
He urged the horse on, and the familiar clatter of clopping hooves and rattling cartwheels filled the air.
It was the merchant's way to forego lengthy good-byes and drawn-out words of thanks. "Time is money," went the saying, and anyway, it was best to make painful partings as short as possible. It was best to pull the arrow out of the wound quickly, after all.
Hugues's form would soon disappear into the crowds, and no doubt Fran's barely visible hand in the inn's window would likewise vanish. Lawrence heard the sound of the wistful, backward-facing Col sit down rather abruptly.
Once they passed through its walls and emerged from within the town, it, too, would sink into the scenery.
And before them was only the road.
Lawrence slapped the reins across the horses' hindquarters.
They were chilled by the occasional gusts of wind from over the river's surface.
The sky was a leaden gray, and its color, reflected in the river, made both look frozen, only adding to the chill. On top of that, the air was exceedingly dry, and one could practically feel the moisture draining from one's face.
Long ago, Lawrence had thought his master's habit of applying medicinal grease to his face in this season quite strange, but lately when he neglected his own health, flakes of skin soon appeared on his face.
He had been working alone as a merchant for seven years—ever since setting out at the age of eighteen—and perhaps the fatigue was finally catching up with him.
If so, so be it.
The problem was, his companion, who neglected her own health far more than he did, seemed to consider such worries utterly irrelevant to her own lot.
"Of course not, you fool," said his traveling companion Holo as she sat beside him. Her hair fluttered in the wind, brushing the corner of his eye and making it itch most unpleasantly. When he looked over at her profile, those were the words that greeted him. "You humans show your feelings on your face. We wolves show them with our fur. That I must curl my tail about Col every night lest he cry from the cold only makes it more so," she said with a displeased sigh, all the while tidying the fur before her.
It was no sash or wrap, but entirely her own: the fur of her tail.
Holo looked to be a girl in her teens, but her true form was that of a giant wolf, big enough to devour Lawrence in a single bite. A wolf who dwelled in the wheat and guaranteed its bountiful harvest.
As such, whenever she pulled back the hood over her head, two proudly pointed wolf ears appeared.
Although at first he had been unable to conceal his considerable fear of her, now it was not so. Though she was someone he would do well to never underestimate, she was nonetheless irreplaceable, his most treasured traveling companion.
"Is that so? It's so lovely that one such as I would never notice a flaw in it, so..."
His obvious flattery was delivered in a deadpan monotone, which earned him a stomp on his foot. But her tail still puffed up happily, which was why he had to resort to such childish tactics.
At length, they both sighed at the foolishness to which they had each sunk. The only reason they had resorted to repeating such familiar patterns was that there in the wagon, there was nothing else to do.

Output:
Lawrence thought about it for a moment, then replied. "There certainly are quite a few boats heading downriver," he said, pointing at the river. Holo, resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on Lawrence's lap, looked listlessly to the river, then back up at Lawrence.
"When so many boats head downriver, you would think the number of boats left upriver decreases, and the waters downriver would be crowded. But it's not so—why do you suppose that is?"
Lawrence heard Holo murmur a small "Huh?"
Holo called herself wisewolf and took pride in the quickness of her wits. At Lawrence's question, she looked again at the river, then at Lawrence.
"Why do you suppose that is?" he asked again, looking at Holo out of the corner of one eye, squinted against the cold, whereupon Holo drew in her chin in consternation. "Hmmmm...," she moaned thoughtfully.
It was the sort of teasing a bored master would often inflict on his apprentice.
For such teasing to succeed, it was necessary for the mark to have confidence in their own intelligence. Then you would simply ask them an obvious question.
If ships only traveled downstream, then there would soon be no ships upriver, while downriver the waters would be jammed with ships.
Which meant there could only be one answer.
"I-I know," said Holo.
"Oh?" replied Lawrence, facing forward. He gave the horse a flick of the reins to stop it from grazing on some grass, as though inviting Holo to give him her answer.
"A ship heading downriver is the same as a load of lumber, is it not?"
"Meaning?"
"Mm. Meaning that when the ships reach the sea, they're either broken up for lumber, or they continue on across the ocean. Coming from upriver, they satisfy a demand both for ships and for lumber itself, as well as transporting other goods. Three birds with one stone."
It was a reasonable answer. When she had begun speaking, Holo's face had been uncertain, but by the time she arrived at the end of her argument, her face was quite proud, as if to say, "How about that, eh?"
Lawrence disguised his laugher with a cough. "Not even close," he said. "The answer is that the ships are pulled back upriver. They go and come back. Obvious, isn't it?"
Upon hearing this, Holo wore an expression like that of a tricked puppy.
"The point is, the most complicated answer isn't always the right one," said Lawrence, poking the betrayed-looking Holo between her eyebrows. His hands were covered by thick deerskin gloves he had received from Hugues, so he had nothing to fear.
Holo slapped his hand away and bared her sharp fangs.
Lawrence laughed, at which she turned away peevishly, with not a shred of the majesty befitting a wisewolf.
"Of course, depending on the season, sometimes what you suggested does happen. But in that case, it's usually a raft. And the riverbank here, see how it's so free of reeds and such? Since there's so much shipping traffic, and they have to pull all those ships back upriver, the banks are kept clear to make it easy for horses to pull the ropes attached to the ships."
Because of the heavy shipping traffic, when ships were hauled back upriver, downriver traffic was limited and largely tied up. Given that, at the moment, no ships were visible either up- or downriver, it was likely that they would not encounter one at all during this particular journey.
If they ran into a ship being taken back upriver by a hauling party, they might have had a grand time—the hauling parties were loud and boisterous affairs.
Lawrence explained this, at which Holo heaved a great sigh. "'Tis a pity, then, such a pity!" she grumbled. If half of her grumbling was from frustration at having been fooled by Lawrence, the other half was out of genuine disappointment—from their earlier travels down this very river, she had personal experience of just how hearty its travelers could be. "As we've so much fine wine, and all..."


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

Input:
Lawrence thought about it for a moment, then replied. "There certainly are quite a few boats heading downriver," he said, pointing at the river. Holo, resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on Lawrence's lap, looked listlessly to the river, then back up at Lawrence.
"When so many boats head downriver, you would think the number of boats left upriver decreases, and the waters downriver would be crowded. But it's not so—why do you suppose that is?"
Lawrence heard Holo murmur a small "Huh?"
Holo called herself wisewolf and took pride in the quickness of her wits. At Lawrence's question, she looked again at the river, then at Lawrence.
"Why do you suppose that is?" he asked again, looking at Holo out of the corner of one eye, squinted against the cold, whereupon Holo drew in her chin in consternation. "Hmmmm...," she moaned thoughtfully.
It was the sort of teasing a bored master would often inflict on his apprentice.
For such teasing to succeed, it was necessary for the mark to have confidence in their own intelligence. Then you would simply ask them an obvious question.
If ships only traveled downstream, then there would soon be no ships upriver, while downriver the waters would be jammed with ships.
Which meant there could only be one answer.
"I-I know," said Holo.
"Oh?" replied Lawrence, facing forward. He gave the horse a flick of the reins to stop it from grazing on some grass, as though inviting Holo to give him her answer.
"A ship heading downriver is the same as a load of lumber, is it not?"
"Meaning?"
"Mm. Meaning that when the ships reach the sea, they're either broken up for lumber, or they continue on across the ocean. Coming from upriver, they satisfy a demand both for ships and for lumber itself, as well as transporting other goods. Three birds with one stone."
It was a reasonable answer. When she had begun speaking, Holo's face had been uncertain, but by the time she arrived at the end of her argument, her face was quite proud, as if to say, "How about that, eh?"
Lawrence disguised his laugher with a cough. "Not even close," he said. "The answer is that the ships are pulled back upriver. They go and come back. Obvious, isn't it?"
Upon hearing this, Holo wore an expression like that of a tricked puppy.
"The point is, the most complicated answer isn't always the right one," said Lawrence, poking the betrayed-looking Holo between her eyebrows. His hands were covered by thick deerskin gloves he had received from Hugues, so he had nothing to fear.
Holo slapped his hand away and bared her sharp fangs.
Lawrence laughed, at which she turned away peevishly, with not a shred of the majesty befitting a wisewolf.
"Of course, depending on the season, sometimes what you suggested does happen. But in that case, it's usually a raft. And the riverbank here, see how it's so free of reeds and such? Since there's so much shipping traffic, and they have to pull all those ships back upriver, the banks are kept clear to make it easy for horses to pull the ropes attached to the ships."
Because of the heavy shipping traffic, when ships were hauled back upriver, downriver traffic was limited and largely tied up. Given that, at the moment, no ships were visible either up- or downriver, it was likely that they would not encounter one at all during this particular journey.
If they ran into a ship being taken back upriver by a hauling party, they might have had a grand time—the hauling parties were loud and boisterous affairs.
Lawrence explained this, at which Holo heaved a great sigh. "'Tis a pity, then, such a pity!" she grumbled. If half of her grumbling was from frustration at having been fooled by Lawrence, the other half was out of genuine disappointment—from their earlier travels down this very river, she had personal experience of just how hearty its travelers could be. "As we've so much fine wine, and all..."

Output:
This trouble that had started their journey together had been only a few months earlier, but already it felt like the distant past.
Time had passed quickly—and it could not be wound back.
A smile continued to play across Holo's lips, and she looked quietly toward the river.
If nothing was eternal, there was no point in making a dour expression. Lawrence knew that, and yet could not help himself.
Lawrence attempted to put his arm around Holo, but it was nothing less than Holo's own hand that stopped him.
"Mm. I suppose 'twould not be so bad to nestle myself in your bosom now, but..." Taking hold of the index finger of his gloved hand, she placed it back on his lap. It was not as though she was chiding a light-fingered urchin, but her face was still rather serious. "I'm worried about that," said Holo, bringing her face near to Lawrence's shoulder and lightly inclining her chin toward the wagon bed.
Lawrence was not so naive as to believe that Holo had suddenly wanted to be close to him so badly that she had decided to do her tail grooming in the driver's seat next to him, as opposed to her normal spot in the wagon bed.
He knew the boy was of an essentially mild nature, and that given his druthers would prefer sitting happily next to someone rather than keeping to himself in deep contemplation. But ever since their stay in Kerube, he seemed to have something quietly on his mind.
"He hasn't said anything to you, either, then?"
"Nay. I know it started when he talked to that fool girl." Holo seemed more dissatisfied than worried.
"That fool girl" surely referred to Fran, and if she had had some kind of effect on Col, that had to be the answer. The walls of Hugues's shop and home were not so thick as to prevent Holo's sharp ears from listening in on any secret conversations that happened within them.
If she had only listened carefully, she would have been able to hear what they had said, Lawrence was about to point out, when Holo pinched his thigh. "I'm Holo, a proud wisewolf. Don't mistake me for some gossipy little bint."
"Fine, fine, all right! Sorry."
Holo squinted at Lawrence, then finally let go of his thigh. Still, when she looked ahead, her lips thin and sharp, she could not help but spit out her weakness. "Can he not rely upon me, then?"
Lawrence know Holo well enough to know when she was joking. It was her amber eyes, more than anything else, that reflected her heart. Usually red tinged with the force of her triumphant pride, when downcast, they looked like brittle honey candy about to break.
Holo had suffered the despair of being unneeded by anyone for centuries. No doubt their exchange after speaking with Fran about the map was also contributing to this.
Lawrence looked back into the wagon bed and replied with a light tone, "Meeting the right person can change you. Or would you prefer he stay a boy forever?"
Even a chick sleeping beneath its mother's wing would one day have to fly on its own. Much less Col, who had left his village with such great determination. He knew the smell of dust and dirt too well to let Holo fuss over him forever. And Lawrence was well aware that Holo was not so self-centered as to actually begrudge Col his maturity.
Still looking ahead, Holo sighed a long, quiet exhalation. Then, as her face passed through the white fog of her breath, she tilted her head in irritation and glared back at Lawrence resentfully. "That's why I've kept quiet, isn't it?"
Lawrence did not shrink away. Instead, he let it pass lightly by, replying with deliberate politeness. "Oh, indeed."
Holo punched Lawrence's thigh with a balled-up fist. But instead of bringing her hand back up, she left it there, resting on his leg. "But I'm no god."
She spoke the words sullenly, her eyes upturned in far too human a manner to be thought of as a deity of any holiness or special sanctity.
Of course, merchants preferred their wine a little muddied.
Lawrence took Holo's hand. "Oh, indeed," he repeated.


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

Input:
This trouble that had started their journey together had been only a few months earlier, but already it felt like the distant past.
Time had passed quickly—and it could not be wound back.
A smile continued to play across Holo's lips, and she looked quietly toward the river.
If nothing was eternal, there was no point in making a dour expression. Lawrence knew that, and yet could not help himself.
Lawrence attempted to put his arm around Holo, but it was nothing less than Holo's own hand that stopped him.
"Mm. I suppose 'twould not be so bad to nestle myself in your bosom now, but..." Taking hold of the index finger of his gloved hand, she placed it back on his lap. It was not as though she was chiding a light-fingered urchin, but her face was still rather serious. "I'm worried about that," said Holo, bringing her face near to Lawrence's shoulder and lightly inclining her chin toward the wagon bed.
Lawrence was not so naive as to believe that Holo had suddenly wanted to be close to him so badly that she had decided to do her tail grooming in the driver's seat next to him, as opposed to her normal spot in the wagon bed.
He knew the boy was of an essentially mild nature, and that given his druthers would prefer sitting happily next to someone rather than keeping to himself in deep contemplation. But ever since their stay in Kerube, he seemed to have something quietly on his mind.
"He hasn't said anything to you, either, then?"
"Nay. I know it started when he talked to that fool girl." Holo seemed more dissatisfied than worried.
"That fool girl" surely referred to Fran, and if she had had some kind of effect on Col, that had to be the answer. The walls of Hugues's shop and home were not so thick as to prevent Holo's sharp ears from listening in on any secret conversations that happened within them.
If she had only listened carefully, she would have been able to hear what they had said, Lawrence was about to point out, when Holo pinched his thigh. "I'm Holo, a proud wisewolf. Don't mistake me for some gossipy little bint."
"Fine, fine, all right! Sorry."
Holo squinted at Lawrence, then finally let go of his thigh. Still, when she looked ahead, her lips thin and sharp, she could not help but spit out her weakness. "Can he not rely upon me, then?"
Lawrence know Holo well enough to know when she was joking. It was her amber eyes, more than anything else, that reflected her heart. Usually red tinged with the force of her triumphant pride, when downcast, they looked like brittle honey candy about to break.
Holo had suffered the despair of being unneeded by anyone for centuries. No doubt their exchange after speaking with Fran about the map was also contributing to this.
Lawrence looked back into the wagon bed and replied with a light tone, "Meeting the right person can change you. Or would you prefer he stay a boy forever?"
Even a chick sleeping beneath its mother's wing would one day have to fly on its own. Much less Col, who had left his village with such great determination. He knew the smell of dust and dirt too well to let Holo fuss over him forever. And Lawrence was well aware that Holo was not so self-centered as to actually begrudge Col his maturity.
Still looking ahead, Holo sighed a long, quiet exhalation. Then, as her face passed through the white fog of her breath, she tilted her head in irritation and glared back at Lawrence resentfully. "That's why I've kept quiet, isn't it?"
Lawrence did not shrink away. Instead, he let it pass lightly by, replying with deliberate politeness. "Oh, indeed."
Holo punched Lawrence's thigh with a balled-up fist. But instead of bringing her hand back up, she left it there, resting on his leg. "But I'm no god."
She spoke the words sullenly, her eyes upturned in far too human a manner to be thought of as a deity of any holiness or special sanctity.
Of course, merchants preferred their wine a little muddied.
Lawrence took Holo's hand. "Oh, indeed," he repeated.

Output:
***
Holo was not of the disposition to forcibly pry into the concerns of others, though this was true of Lawrence as well. And yet, she tended to fret over things more than others, which made for a delicate atmosphere.
She was quick of wit and mean-spirited at times, which could make her seem selfish. But the truth was not so: She simply was not the type who always needed to add her unasked-for thoughts, nor did she constantly offer her opinion when someone else was having problems.
She did not mind coming to someone's aid, though—quite the contrary, she enjoyed it. However, she was a reserved sort and would not offer help when it was not requested. Ever since their duo had become a trio and Lawrence had gotten the opportunity to see Holo interacting with someone else, he had realized that about her.
Of course, once Lawrence realized this through her disposition toward Col, and began to wonder if it might be the case toward himself as well, there was an abundance of clues. Though she had so often bullied him for being insensitive, once he realized the truth of the matter, he concluded that he truly had been insensitive.
It was not exactly out of penance for this, but nonetheless Lawrence had taken to serving Holo slightly more generous portions at mealtime.
Holo, of course, noticed the deliberately larger servings and made a sour face as though to say, "You needn't bother."
Thus, their travels had proceeded a bit more awkwardly and silently than usual, only regaining their liveliness once they encountered a group of fishermen pulling fish up onto the riverbank.
"There, pull!" To the rhythmic booming of a drum they pulled, many men hauling a great net that had been spread out over the river. There were also men facing the net, beating the surface of the water with sticks, and men in traveling clothes similar to Lawrence's party, bent over and looking down at the catch on the riverbank.
As the river belonged to the local landlord, one could not simply take fish from it as one pleased. Among the fishermen here were more than a few soldiers armed with short spears, grim faced and carrying some sort of parchment, counting the fishes that had been caught in the nets and brought ashore. The fish were then tossed into barrels and buckets that had been readied in wagon beds. Said barrels and buckets were then marked with lime chalk, and once they were full, the wagons rolled off.
Given that the river was so heavily trafficked, they had probably chosen this place to fish because it was far removed from any towns. Lawrence looked upstream and saw a checkpoint, and it seemed that ships were being stopped to let the fishing continue.
The net became heavier as it was dragged, and both the beat of the drum and the shouts of the men grew louder in response. Lawrence glanced back into his own wagon bed and saw that Col and Holo both had stood and were watching the fishing with intense interest, their fists clenched.
With one last, great cry from the men, the net, twitching as though filled with huge catfish, was finally hauled ashore. The fish seemed large, despite the cold season. Perhaps the marine life did not have to worry much about food, given what food fell overboard from all the passing ships.
There was a loud shout of triumph, and the net haulers all swarmed around the catch.
In addition to the noise of the fishermen all vying to be the first, the officials' angry shouts and the onlookers' cries of delight were intermixed—it was a great commotion. There was the thrashing about of the fish, too, and the sound of them being tossed into the waiting barrels, and then the sound of the filled wagons pulling away. It was a pleasant, comforting tumult.
After so long on the constantly cold landscape seemingly devoid of any living thing, this was the first obvious sign of life and liveliness they had seen in some time.
Perhaps that was why everyone watching seemed so pleased, even relieved.


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

Input:
***
Holo was not of the disposition to forcibly pry into the concerns of others, though this was true of Lawrence as well. And yet, she tended to fret over things more than others, which made for a delicate atmosphere.
She was quick of wit and mean-spirited at times, which could make her seem selfish. But the truth was not so: She simply was not the type who always needed to add her unasked-for thoughts, nor did she constantly offer her opinion when someone else was having problems.
She did not mind coming to someone's aid, though—quite the contrary, she enjoyed it. However, she was a reserved sort and would not offer help when it was not requested. Ever since their duo had become a trio and Lawrence had gotten the opportunity to see Holo interacting with someone else, he had realized that about her.
Of course, once Lawrence realized this through her disposition toward Col, and began to wonder if it might be the case toward himself as well, there was an abundance of clues. Though she had so often bullied him for being insensitive, once he realized the truth of the matter, he concluded that he truly had been insensitive.
It was not exactly out of penance for this, but nonetheless Lawrence had taken to serving Holo slightly more generous portions at mealtime.
Holo, of course, noticed the deliberately larger servings and made a sour face as though to say, "You needn't bother."
Thus, their travels had proceeded a bit more awkwardly and silently than usual, only regaining their liveliness once they encountered a group of fishermen pulling fish up onto the riverbank.
"There, pull!" To the rhythmic booming of a drum they pulled, many men hauling a great net that had been spread out over the river. There were also men facing the net, beating the surface of the water with sticks, and men in traveling clothes similar to Lawrence's party, bent over and looking down at the catch on the riverbank.
As the river belonged to the local landlord, one could not simply take fish from it as one pleased. Among the fishermen here were more than a few soldiers armed with short spears, grim faced and carrying some sort of parchment, counting the fishes that had been caught in the nets and brought ashore. The fish were then tossed into barrels and buckets that had been readied in wagon beds. Said barrels and buckets were then marked with lime chalk, and once they were full, the wagons rolled off.
Given that the river was so heavily trafficked, they had probably chosen this place to fish because it was far removed from any towns. Lawrence looked upstream and saw a checkpoint, and it seemed that ships were being stopped to let the fishing continue.
The net became heavier as it was dragged, and both the beat of the drum and the shouts of the men grew louder in response. Lawrence glanced back into his own wagon bed and saw that Col and Holo both had stood and were watching the fishing with intense interest, their fists clenched.
With one last, great cry from the men, the net, twitching as though filled with huge catfish, was finally hauled ashore. The fish seemed large, despite the cold season. Perhaps the marine life did not have to worry much about food, given what food fell overboard from all the passing ships.
There was a loud shout of triumph, and the net haulers all swarmed around the catch.
In addition to the noise of the fishermen all vying to be the first, the officials' angry shouts and the onlookers' cries of delight were intermixed—it was a great commotion. There was the thrashing about of the fish, too, and the sound of them being tossed into the waiting barrels, and then the sound of the filled wagons pulling away. It was a pleasant, comforting tumult.
After so long on the constantly cold landscape seemingly devoid of any living thing, this was the first obvious sign of life and liveliness they had seen in some time.
Perhaps that was why everyone watching seemed so pleased, even relieved.

Output:
Lawrence plucked a scrap of jerky from the wagon bed and regarded the pair. "Hey, you two. You'd best make ready."
"Mm? Make ready?" Holo and Col alike looked down at him.
"I declare this fishing expedition concluded! By the charity of Lord Osborne, the remaining fish shall be given to the people!" announced one of the officials in a loud voice, his spear tip raised high.
At this, those who had been sitting here and there around the edge of the riverbank, gazing at the fish, sprung to their feet, as if they had been waiting for this moment. When they reached the river, there were many fish still opening and closing their mouths.
The region's landlord must have concluded that sparing the people a small share of fish would prevent them from trying to poach from the river. Presented with such readily available stock, even a group of travelers on pilgrimage would snatch them up all too happily.
Men and women alike hitched up the hems of their robes, cast off their overcoats, and gathered up great armfuls of fish. Holo and Col looked at each other, then immediately kicked their shoes off and sprinted barefoot toward the riverbank. Holo seemed not even to care that her tail was briefly visible.
Lawrence watched the pair with a happily exasperated expression on his face, then plucked a tendon free from his jerky. He tossed the inedible bit aside before joining a group around a bonfire to get some warmth.
That evening dinner came early, with the freshly caught fish covered in salt and roasted over the fire. Holo and Col devoured fish as though they were competing to see who could feast the best. It was not very mannerly, but in that moment, it was a joyous meal nonetheless.
Once he visited a town on his trade route, Lawrence would generally not see it again for a year. That had been his life, and he had largely expected it to continue that way.
So it was strange to not only see Kerube again, but also now Lenos, after not so very great a span of time had passed.
"Though you're not so angry this time," said Lawrence, tucking the letter of introduction he had received from Hugues into his breast pocket.
Given the luxurious goods in the wagon bed, passing legitimately through the town gates would have involved paying a hefty tax, but Hugues had not failed to take that into account. He had dropped the name of a lord he was close with, and in the letter asked for the taxation amount to be adjusted.
Perhaps because the goods he dealt with were of such high value, Hugues seemed to wield significant influence. Once the letter was recognized as genuine, the officials at the gate quickly turned polite.
However, just as Lawrence expected to be sent on his way, they insisted rather formidably on conducting a thorough inspection of the goods he was carrying.
Thus it was that Holo's tail had been once again referred to as "a cheap fur" by an inspector.
"I can't go getting angry at every little slight. And anyway, fatigue has made my tail most unkempt, so I've no leg to stand on, really." She yawned hugely, then sighed. Perhaps she had decided that being quick to anger was beneath her dignity as a wisewolf, or perhaps she truly was fatigued—either way, Holo slumped in the driver's seat. The only one among them with any energy was Col, for whom this visit to the town of Lenos was his first.
Of course, in Holo's case, her fatigue was likely less physical than it was mental. The sudden opportunity to participate in the fish-taking had gotten her strangely excited, and thereafter she had gotten out of the wagon bed many times, choosing instead to walk. Lawrence half joked that she might as well transform into her true form and enjoy her walk that way, but the serious, considering look on her face stopped him short.
She might have been trying to make Col laugh, but another part of that look was surely genuine.


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

Input:
Lawrence plucked a scrap of jerky from the wagon bed and regarded the pair. "Hey, you two. You'd best make ready."
"Mm? Make ready?" Holo and Col alike looked down at him.
"I declare this fishing expedition concluded! By the charity of Lord Osborne, the remaining fish shall be given to the people!" announced one of the officials in a loud voice, his spear tip raised high.
At this, those who had been sitting here and there around the edge of the riverbank, gazing at the fish, sprung to their feet, as if they had been waiting for this moment. When they reached the river, there were many fish still opening and closing their mouths.
The region's landlord must have concluded that sparing the people a small share of fish would prevent them from trying to poach from the river. Presented with such readily available stock, even a group of travelers on pilgrimage would snatch them up all too happily.
Men and women alike hitched up the hems of their robes, cast off their overcoats, and gathered up great armfuls of fish. Holo and Col looked at each other, then immediately kicked their shoes off and sprinted barefoot toward the riverbank. Holo seemed not even to care that her tail was briefly visible.
Lawrence watched the pair with a happily exasperated expression on his face, then plucked a tendon free from his jerky. He tossed the inedible bit aside before joining a group around a bonfire to get some warmth.
That evening dinner came early, with the freshly caught fish covered in salt and roasted over the fire. Holo and Col devoured fish as though they were competing to see who could feast the best. It was not very mannerly, but in that moment, it was a joyous meal nonetheless.
Once he visited a town on his trade route, Lawrence would generally not see it again for a year. That had been his life, and he had largely expected it to continue that way.
So it was strange to not only see Kerube again, but also now Lenos, after not so very great a span of time had passed.
"Though you're not so angry this time," said Lawrence, tucking the letter of introduction he had received from Hugues into his breast pocket.
Given the luxurious goods in the wagon bed, passing legitimately through the town gates would have involved paying a hefty tax, but Hugues had not failed to take that into account. He had dropped the name of a lord he was close with, and in the letter asked for the taxation amount to be adjusted.
Perhaps because the goods he dealt with were of such high value, Hugues seemed to wield significant influence. Once the letter was recognized as genuine, the officials at the gate quickly turned polite.
However, just as Lawrence expected to be sent on his way, they insisted rather formidably on conducting a thorough inspection of the goods he was carrying.
Thus it was that Holo's tail had been once again referred to as "a cheap fur" by an inspector.
"I can't go getting angry at every little slight. And anyway, fatigue has made my tail most unkempt, so I've no leg to stand on, really." She yawned hugely, then sighed. Perhaps she had decided that being quick to anger was beneath her dignity as a wisewolf, or perhaps she truly was fatigued—either way, Holo slumped in the driver's seat. The only one among them with any energy was Col, for whom this visit to the town of Lenos was his first.
Of course, in Holo's case, her fatigue was likely less physical than it was mental. The sudden opportunity to participate in the fish-taking had gotten her strangely excited, and thereafter she had gotten out of the wagon bed many times, choosing instead to walk. Lawrence half joked that she might as well transform into her true form and enjoy her walk that way, but the serious, considering look on her face stopped him short.
She might have been trying to make Col laugh, but another part of that look was surely genuine.

Output:
It would not have been strange at all for her to want to howl with all her might, once in a while, and run until her legs would no longer carry her.
"When we arrive at the inn, I'll have the innkeeper make ready hot water and towels. You'll feel better after washing the dust off."
"And fine oil, too."
She had learned some time ago that oil was good for combing out her tail, but it was not until trying it at Hugues's place that she had gotten the taste for it.
She would not have asked for something he would outright refuse. He only put up mild resistance in the form of a sour expression and the words "if there's time to buy it."
Yet that was enough to improve her spirits, so perhaps it was a small price to pay.
"So, then, how long will we be staying, eh?" asked Holo, curled up and resting her cheek on her knees. She was not facing him when she asked, and her tone sounded uninterested, but Lawrence knew she was in fact very concerned about the issue.
Lawrence considered it for a few moments and decided on an optimistic answer. "I'd say three or four days at the longest. We're just getting information. We've already got cold-weather gear, and we'll only need to buy a little extra food."
"Mm." Holo sighed, as though satisfied to hear that much, but beneath her hood, her ears still twitched busily.
Lawrence cleared his throat and continued, "We don't know which route we'll be taking, though. So long as it has a bit of traffic, a snowpack route will be fine. Otherwise, we'll need to find a good road. The former will take us to the Debau Company—the latter, to Nyohhira."
Nyohhira was a name likely to make Holo uneasy, but it was one of a very few place-names that she remembered. Holo stubbornly continued to look away, but she could not hide her nostalgia. If prodded, she might well have started weeping, which brought Lawrence to smile fondly.
"Col—do you know the town of Nyohhira?"
Lawrence turned the conversation to Col, afraid of what might happen if Holo noticed him smiling at her.
Col seemed initially taken aback at being so suddenly drawn into the conversation but then nodded. "The name only."
"It's an old town, with hot springs that gush up out of the ground. I've passed through it once—it was a curious place."
"Curious?"
"Yes. Despite being so far out in a foreign land, it's said that the highest-ranking clergy from all over the world gather there. And in hundreds of years, there's never once been a battle there."
Col, being from a town that had suffered the unreasonable persecution of the Church, all in the name of God, seemed to find this nearly unbelievable. He really was a good conversation partner, given how charmingly he showed his surprise.
"That's why so many people, suffering from the pain of this always-fighting world of ours, seem to think they're hiding the secret to eternal peace there." As Lawrence spoke, he lightly rested his elbow on the head of the still-turned-away Holo.
"But there's no way the world is ever going to stop fighting, is there...?"
"That's true. A good soak in hot water can cure all sorts of sickness and injury, so everyone forgets about their troubled hearts. That's not going to stop the world from fighting."
Under Lawrence's elbow, Holo turned her head and, after giving the sadly smiling Col a little grin, spoke up in a bored tone of voice. "I soaked in that water myself long ago, and now I remember how much I fought to cool off after it."
Lawrence knew he did not need to worry whether he had pushed things too far. He gave Holo's head a brisk rub, then pulled on the reins to avoid a dog.
"The shopkeeper Miss Fran told us about is a former mercenary, she said. Hopefully he's had a nice soak and is feeling large of heart when we arrive."
"I'm rather hoping for a large inn," said Holo. Whether or not their stay in the town was enjoyable rested on the quality of the accommodations.


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

Input:
It would not have been strange at all for her to want to howl with all her might, once in a while, and run until her legs would no longer carry her.
"When we arrive at the inn, I'll have the innkeeper make ready hot water and towels. You'll feel better after washing the dust off."
"And fine oil, too."
She had learned some time ago that oil was good for combing out her tail, but it was not until trying it at Hugues's place that she had gotten the taste for it.
She would not have asked for something he would outright refuse. He only put up mild resistance in the form of a sour expression and the words "if there's time to buy it."
Yet that was enough to improve her spirits, so perhaps it was a small price to pay.
"So, then, how long will we be staying, eh?" asked Holo, curled up and resting her cheek on her knees. She was not facing him when she asked, and her tone sounded uninterested, but Lawrence knew she was in fact very concerned about the issue.
Lawrence considered it for a few moments and decided on an optimistic answer. "I'd say three or four days at the longest. We're just getting information. We've already got cold-weather gear, and we'll only need to buy a little extra food."
"Mm." Holo sighed, as though satisfied to hear that much, but beneath her hood, her ears still twitched busily.
Lawrence cleared his throat and continued, "We don't know which route we'll be taking, though. So long as it has a bit of traffic, a snowpack route will be fine. Otherwise, we'll need to find a good road. The former will take us to the Debau Company—the latter, to Nyohhira."
Nyohhira was a name likely to make Holo uneasy, but it was one of a very few place-names that she remembered. Holo stubbornly continued to look away, but she could not hide her nostalgia. If prodded, she might well have started weeping, which brought Lawrence to smile fondly.
"Col—do you know the town of Nyohhira?"
Lawrence turned the conversation to Col, afraid of what might happen if Holo noticed him smiling at her.
Col seemed initially taken aback at being so suddenly drawn into the conversation but then nodded. "The name only."
"It's an old town, with hot springs that gush up out of the ground. I've passed through it once—it was a curious place."
"Curious?"
"Yes. Despite being so far out in a foreign land, it's said that the highest-ranking clergy from all over the world gather there. And in hundreds of years, there's never once been a battle there."
Col, being from a town that had suffered the unreasonable persecution of the Church, all in the name of God, seemed to find this nearly unbelievable. He really was a good conversation partner, given how charmingly he showed his surprise.
"That's why so many people, suffering from the pain of this always-fighting world of ours, seem to think they're hiding the secret to eternal peace there." As Lawrence spoke, he lightly rested his elbow on the head of the still-turned-away Holo.
"But there's no way the world is ever going to stop fighting, is there...?"
"That's true. A good soak in hot water can cure all sorts of sickness and injury, so everyone forgets about their troubled hearts. That's not going to stop the world from fighting."
Under Lawrence's elbow, Holo turned her head and, after giving the sadly smiling Col a little grin, spoke up in a bored tone of voice. "I soaked in that water myself long ago, and now I remember how much I fought to cool off after it."
Lawrence knew he did not need to worry whether he had pushed things too far. He gave Holo's head a brisk rub, then pulled on the reins to avoid a dog.
"The shopkeeper Miss Fran told us about is a former mercenary, she said. Hopefully he's had a nice soak and is feeling large of heart when we arrive."
"I'm rather hoping for a large inn," said Holo. Whether or not their stay in the town was enjoyable rested on the quality of the accommodations.

Output:
"The place where I was held in hock was splendid," said Holo spitefully, her eyes narrowed.
Lawrence did not think she was actually angry, but he could not very well point that out. He did not ever want to use Holo as collateral again. "Well, we'll ask around town."
"Do you know anyone there?" Holo's eyes made it very clear that she had no intention of returning to the angry folk of the Delink Company. No matter how favorably one might try to look at the men who had held Holo hostage, they were not a pleasant lot. They wriggled like leeches, made webs like spiders, and pretended at nobility—all the hateful things in the world condensed into human form.
And yet it was thanks to their like that the world kept turning, and Lawrence had profited through them. If possible, he did not want to get involved with them again—and yet it made him a bit wistful to imagine how much of his life might elapse before he was involved in another deal of that size again.
Lawrence smiled to himself as such thoughts crossed his mind, then scratched his nose. "I have some other acquaintances, yes. I'll need to contact someone to receive the map, and I'll ask them if they can recommend an inn."
Though it was only a few weeks earlier that the hide tanners and all related merchants had been driven from Lenos, it seemed just as busy as ever. Perhaps the trouble with the furs truly had been a mere tempest in a teacup.
Lawrence pulled at the reins, steering the wagon hither and thither through the busy streets.
It was only when they passed a street filled with what seemed to be butchers' shops—with rows of baskets tightly packed with chickens—that Holo spoke. "So you have some acquaintances, do you?"
"Yes, at a place called the Beast and Fish Tail."
"Mm? Oh, the shop where they had that peculiar rodent dish."
Lawrence seemed to remember Holo liking the food there. If they dined at the place, they could kill three birds with one stone.
Once they finished passing by the street, raucous with the crying of the hens, Lawrence took up the reins and was about to give the horse's hindquarters a snap. And just in that moment, Holo spoke.
"You've certainly got some nerve."
"Huh?"
What did nerve have to do with treating Holo to the famous cooking of the Beast and Fish Tail?
Merchants could recall most things they had seen. Lawrence flipped back through his memory, and it stopped at the image of a certain woman. There was a famous and capable shopgirl who worked at the Beast and Fish Tail.
"Ah." As Lawrence was trying to decide whether or not to bother to groan, Holo interrupted.
"Ah well, I'll soak myself thoroughly in the hot springs of Nyohhira, and forget my angered heart, won't I?"
The look in Holo's eyes at that moment was very far indeed from forgetting any sort of anger at all. She looked almost excited at the prospect of chasing off any sense of ease Lawrence might have felt. Behind them, Col craned his neck around, confused, but Lawrence could not very well suggest they not go—not anymore, at least.
Lawrence was thoroughly distracted until a craftsman of some kind shouted angrily at him, at which Lawrence hastened to bring his attention back to the street in front of him.
Exhausted, he looked up, while beside him Holo smiled triumphantly.
In this particular city, anytime one looked up, the church spire was plainly visible. Lawrence regarded it and silently prayed that nothing more would go wrong.
It is generally once the sun sets that a tavern becomes truly busy. This was all the more true when the establishment had a respectable clientele, as the Beast and Fish Tail surely did. So when Lawrence and his charges arrived there, it was nearly empty.
However, it was not quiet. Rather, they seemed to be in the midst of preparing for dinner. Right in the center of the tavern were several buckets, each filled to overflowing with shells.