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

Input:
"Or if the villagers themselves resisted the idea. And the answer is indeed the latter." As she spoke, Fran reached into her things and produced a dusty, old book.
It was more a stack of papers than a book so unmatched and disorganized were the parchments and letters that comprised it. Even a brief glance made it clear that it was very old. The pages rustled weakly as she flipped through them.
"The village originally used the legend of the angel as a reason not to build a water mill," she said matter-of-factly.
"That's..."
"If a mill were built, it would be for extracting more labor from the villagers—they would have been made to construct the very tool that would choke them. Meanwhile, the northern campaigns were reaching their peak, the landlord, wanting to borrow the Church's might, took the profit of using the legend of the angel to flatter the Church over the profit of the increased output of a water mill."
It was often the case that a landlord would lack sufficient military or financial power to protect his own holdings. Fran went on.
"But as times changed, the pagans grew stronger. I assume you know that the northern campaign has been canceled."
Lawrence nodded. "In other words," he said, "with the recent decline of Church power, things can turn bad if the landlord gets a whiff of their involvement."
"Yes. In the past, money was made in providing the northern campaign with supplies, but...lacking shame or concern, and any sort of fear of God, the attitude has changed completely. As you might imagine, in an area like this with so many pagan landlords, it can be dangerous to appease the Church while its power is on the decline. So far their reaction has gone well."
If you can't beat them, join them. It was hardly a bad strategy for a long life. However, sometimes it would only make you look like a coward.
"After much worrying, the landlord hit upon an idea. Claim the devout nun who came all the way out here chasing the angel legend was a witch."
Lawrence drew in breath, but he was the only one. Holo's expression did not so much as twitch. She knew in her bones just how selfish humans could be.
"By claiming a witch had come and was causing trouble, he wouldn't have to defy the Church, but could save face with the villagers. And for the villagers themselves it was awfully convenient; since they didn't want to build a water mill, a witch in the forest gave them the perfect excuse not to enter it. A mill would mean increased taxation, which would instantly make their lives much harder."
This also explained why they treated salt as such a precious substance. But there was still something Lawrence did not understand.
"Miss Fran...where did you learn all of this?"
In response to his question, Fran casually held up the book. On its opened pages, Lawrence could see writing in a neat, masculine hand.
"It's all written right here. This is the diary of Katerina Lucci, the nun laid to rest in the next room."
A single book had been missing from the shelf. This book.
"I expect one of the villagers had an attack of conscience and wanted to let the world know the truth. It's a total coincidence that it should end up in my hands. An acquaintance of mine who handles such things just happened to mention it."
She flipped through the pages, her eyes glancing over them. She was not reading the pages, instead perhaps trying to guess at the thoughts of the woman who had written them.
"But if that's true...why would you tell us? I mean, to begin with..." Lawrence trailed off.
If she knew so much about the landlord, then Fran's reason for bringing Lawrence along was not simply to help her learn about the angel legend.
Lawrence looked at Fran dubiously. She had been planning to set them up all along.
He felt like the corners of her eyes crinkled just a bit in a mischievous smile. "It won't be long before the bells ring and the Church arrives."

Output:
"So it's the Debau Company, eh?"
Fran's eyes widened in surprise, and she nodded. "So you're familiar. As you've guessed, if the Church comes again, the claim that there's a witch in their domain won't work. So this is an extremely dangerous place."
That much was certainly true.
If the Church came into a volatile situation like this, it would be difficult for Fran to handle it alone, no matter how perversely stubborn she might be.
Fran regarded Lawrence. "The villagers and landlord alike are probably terrified that an investigation into the witch rumors would be a precursor to another round of Church attacks on the north," she said.
"So what we need to do is act such that we calm those fears."
Perhaps something about the way Lawrence spoke was amusing to her, for Fran displayed a quiet smile. But there was a disparity between her smile and the words she spoke next. "On our way back around the lakeside, there was someone observing this place."
This was why Fran had been willing to compromise.
It was such an obvious reason that Lawrence wanted to sigh. But he swallowed it back; it did not often happen that he got what he wanted taking the easy path.
"Naturally I'm not asking you to stay here with me from here on. Just until the snow melts will be fine. I expect the legend of the angel only applies in wintertime."
"And then you'll draw us a map of the north?"
Fran nodded. "So you'll help me, then?"
If they failed to pack their things and leave immediately, they would lose what little room to maneuver they had. But Fran had let them in on the secret, then asked for help.
It was a cunning move. Like a battlefield general.
He needed that map of the north, and there was Hugues to consider. Knowing the situation, Lawrence could not very well leave Fran on her own here.
Time-wise it would be a hardship to wait for spring, but depending on how circumstances changed, he might have another chance to negotiate. Holo did not move, so the answer was clear.
"Of course," said Lawrence shortly.
***
The next day of their stay, Fran again took Col with her and made for the lake.
Lawrence worried that if someone was watching them, it would be unsafe to leave the cottage, but Fran dismissed this, saying, "It's no different than if we were in the cottage." If anything, she said, it was safer, since it would reinforce the idea that they had come not to investigate the witch, but the angel legend.
Logically speaking, that was true enough, yet Lawrence was about to insist that it was still too dangerous—and oddly enough, it was Holo who restrained him. Moreover, she then suggested that Fran take Col with her.
Col readily agreed, of course, since he also felt that Fran should not go alone, which Lawrence found strange.
This was a complete change from Holo's previous state of finding everything Fran said irritating. Had their conversation with Fran last night changed her view so much?
What had become clear the previous night was that Fran had planned to take advantage of them all along when she brought them here, which ought to have worsened their impression of her—and certainly wouldn't improve it.
When Lawrence came back from seeing Col and Fran off, he found Holo slowly and deliberately grooming her tail.
Lawrence watched her and decided to try a mildly probing statement.
"I imagine she was thinking only of the legend last night, eh?"
After finger combing the whole of her tail, she began to pluck individual pests off and toss them into the hearth. She gave Lawrence only a desultory ear's worth of attention.
"Mm?"
"She said as much to Col, didn't she? 'Let's not miss any hints of the legend,' she said."
"Ah, mm."
Fran, too, seemed to have concluded that the angel had to have been some sort of natural phenomenon and had listed all sorts of possibilities to Col—from accumulated snow blowing off a tree branch to water from a hot spring flowing into the lake and causing steam to rise in a wing-shaped pattern.


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

Input:
"So it's the Debau Company, eh?"
Fran's eyes widened in surprise, and she nodded. "So you're familiar. As you've guessed, if the Church comes again, the claim that there's a witch in their domain won't work. So this is an extremely dangerous place."
That much was certainly true.
If the Church came into a volatile situation like this, it would be difficult for Fran to handle it alone, no matter how perversely stubborn she might be.
Fran regarded Lawrence. "The villagers and landlord alike are probably terrified that an investigation into the witch rumors would be a precursor to another round of Church attacks on the north," she said.
"So what we need to do is act such that we calm those fears."
Perhaps something about the way Lawrence spoke was amusing to her, for Fran displayed a quiet smile. But there was a disparity between her smile and the words she spoke next. "On our way back around the lakeside, there was someone observing this place."
This was why Fran had been willing to compromise.
It was such an obvious reason that Lawrence wanted to sigh. But he swallowed it back; it did not often happen that he got what he wanted taking the easy path.
"Naturally I'm not asking you to stay here with me from here on. Just until the snow melts will be fine. I expect the legend of the angel only applies in wintertime."
"And then you'll draw us a map of the north?"
Fran nodded. "So you'll help me, then?"
If they failed to pack their things and leave immediately, they would lose what little room to maneuver they had. But Fran had let them in on the secret, then asked for help.
It was a cunning move. Like a battlefield general.
He needed that map of the north, and there was Hugues to consider. Knowing the situation, Lawrence could not very well leave Fran on her own here.
Time-wise it would be a hardship to wait for spring, but depending on how circumstances changed, he might have another chance to negotiate. Holo did not move, so the answer was clear.
"Of course," said Lawrence shortly.
***
The next day of their stay, Fran again took Col with her and made for the lake.
Lawrence worried that if someone was watching them, it would be unsafe to leave the cottage, but Fran dismissed this, saying, "It's no different than if we were in the cottage." If anything, she said, it was safer, since it would reinforce the idea that they had come not to investigate the witch, but the angel legend.
Logically speaking, that was true enough, yet Lawrence was about to insist that it was still too dangerous—and oddly enough, it was Holo who restrained him. Moreover, she then suggested that Fran take Col with her.
Col readily agreed, of course, since he also felt that Fran should not go alone, which Lawrence found strange.
This was a complete change from Holo's previous state of finding everything Fran said irritating. Had their conversation with Fran last night changed her view so much?
What had become clear the previous night was that Fran had planned to take advantage of them all along when she brought them here, which ought to have worsened their impression of her—and certainly wouldn't improve it.
When Lawrence came back from seeing Col and Fran off, he found Holo slowly and deliberately grooming her tail.
Lawrence watched her and decided to try a mildly probing statement.
"I imagine she was thinking only of the legend last night, eh?"
After finger combing the whole of her tail, she began to pluck individual pests off and toss them into the hearth. She gave Lawrence only a desultory ear's worth of attention.
"Mm?"
"She said as much to Col, didn't she? 'Let's not miss any hints of the legend,' she said."
"Ah, mm."
Fran, too, seemed to have concluded that the angel had to have been some sort of natural phenomenon and had listed all sorts of possibilities to Col—from accumulated snow blowing off a tree branch to water from a hot spring flowing into the lake and causing steam to rise in a wing-shaped pattern.

Output:
If falling, then the top of the waterfall, with the great difference from top to bottom, seemed the likelier candidate. If rising, then either steam, mist, or billowing snow was not difficult to imagine.
His assistance requested, Col had listened intently to each possibility in turn, nodding as though promising not to miss a single detail as he headed out with Fran.
"It's true that so long as she seems so serious, neither the villagers nor the landlord can very well come out and quibble with her," said Lawrence.
He expected Holo to come back with a complaint about Fran being perfectly willing to order her around, but evidently she was not in the mood.
If anything, Holo seemed pleased as she spoke. "'Tis rather absurd for her to have such a reputation as a perverse, stubborn silversmith."
"...Oh?'
Fran was entirely unlike what he had imagined when he first heard of her, but she was the very image of a serious artisan. She had probably been up thinking about her plans all night and had gone out immediately upon the arrival of morning, without any concern for the danger.
Lawrence said as much to Holo, but she only chewed at the roots of her tail fur, flashing a sharp smile when it was properly fluffy. "I expect she's simply chasing after whoever it is she's in love with. That strikes me as neither perverse nor particularly stubborn."
Holo was talking about the person Fran had mentioned the previous night—the one who had first told her the legend of the angel. Whether or not it was true romance or simply unrequited love on Fran's part, Holo and Lawrence seemed to be of a mind on the subject.
And to put it as flatly as Holo did, it was true that perversely stubborn was not, perhaps, the right term. In Fran's position, girls the world over could more accurately be described as "single-minded."
"'Tis rather charming, is it not?"
"I suppose." Lawrence very much doubted that Fran had been lying the previous night. Given that, she started to seem to him like a maiden who goes on pilgrimage to pray for her love, who's gone off to war.
And yet Lawrence still did not understand something. Why had her confession taken the form of an apology for her poor treatment of him at the trading company, and why had Holo's disposition toward Fran improved so much despite the knowledge that she had set out to trap them from the beginning?
He idly poked at the fire in the hearth as he turned the matter over in his mind. It was then that Holo spoke up.
"And to use an apology to deliver such a story. Rather clever of her, was it not?" A large spark flew up into the air—mostly coincidentally—but it looked as though it had jumped in reaction to his own fluster, which was also true.
Lawrence directed his gaze from the hearth to Holo, who was grinning widely, though it was a stiff, unnatural smile.
"Of course, you do know why it was so clever, don't you?"
Lawrence realized it was the height of presumption to think he had been able to hide his ignorance from her. If he had to confess, sooner was better. "...Sorry. I have no idea."
"Fool!" Her face turned so fierce it seemed it would blow all the sparks in the hearth up at once. Her stiff smile vanished, replaced by a look of utter anger.
"Wh-why are you so—"
"Fool! So you're saying you've no notion of why I found her so irritating, either?!"
If she had shouted at him with such force in her wolf form, she would have destroyed the cottage from the inside. Holo's anger was enough to cause such irrelevant thoughts to cross his mind. He had never seen her tail as puffed up as it suddenly was.
"...Yes."
He had gone too far, and this was the fall.
Holo's lips trembled in outrage, and she finally slumped, as though defeated. It was as though she had burst a blood vessel out of sheer rage.
Lawrence hastily tried to say something, but she gave him such a sharp glare from underneath her bangs that he snapped his mouth shut almost as soon as he opened it.


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

Input:
If falling, then the top of the waterfall, with the great difference from top to bottom, seemed the likelier candidate. If rising, then either steam, mist, or billowing snow was not difficult to imagine.
His assistance requested, Col had listened intently to each possibility in turn, nodding as though promising not to miss a single detail as he headed out with Fran.
"It's true that so long as she seems so serious, neither the villagers nor the landlord can very well come out and quibble with her," said Lawrence.
He expected Holo to come back with a complaint about Fran being perfectly willing to order her around, but evidently she was not in the mood.
If anything, Holo seemed pleased as she spoke. "'Tis rather absurd for her to have such a reputation as a perverse, stubborn silversmith."
"...Oh?'
Fran was entirely unlike what he had imagined when he first heard of her, but she was the very image of a serious artisan. She had probably been up thinking about her plans all night and had gone out immediately upon the arrival of morning, without any concern for the danger.
Lawrence said as much to Holo, but she only chewed at the roots of her tail fur, flashing a sharp smile when it was properly fluffy. "I expect she's simply chasing after whoever it is she's in love with. That strikes me as neither perverse nor particularly stubborn."
Holo was talking about the person Fran had mentioned the previous night—the one who had first told her the legend of the angel. Whether or not it was true romance or simply unrequited love on Fran's part, Holo and Lawrence seemed to be of a mind on the subject.
And to put it as flatly as Holo did, it was true that perversely stubborn was not, perhaps, the right term. In Fran's position, girls the world over could more accurately be described as "single-minded."
"'Tis rather charming, is it not?"
"I suppose." Lawrence very much doubted that Fran had been lying the previous night. Given that, she started to seem to him like a maiden who goes on pilgrimage to pray for her love, who's gone off to war.
And yet Lawrence still did not understand something. Why had her confession taken the form of an apology for her poor treatment of him at the trading company, and why had Holo's disposition toward Fran improved so much despite the knowledge that she had set out to trap them from the beginning?
He idly poked at the fire in the hearth as he turned the matter over in his mind. It was then that Holo spoke up.
"And to use an apology to deliver such a story. Rather clever of her, was it not?" A large spark flew up into the air—mostly coincidentally—but it looked as though it had jumped in reaction to his own fluster, which was also true.
Lawrence directed his gaze from the hearth to Holo, who was grinning widely, though it was a stiff, unnatural smile.
"Of course, you do know why it was so clever, don't you?"
Lawrence realized it was the height of presumption to think he had been able to hide his ignorance from her. If he had to confess, sooner was better. "...Sorry. I have no idea."
"Fool!" Her face turned so fierce it seemed it would blow all the sparks in the hearth up at once. Her stiff smile vanished, replaced by a look of utter anger.
"Wh-why are you so—"
"Fool! So you're saying you've no notion of why I found her so irritating, either?!"
If she had shouted at him with such force in her wolf form, she would have destroyed the cottage from the inside. Holo's anger was enough to cause such irrelevant thoughts to cross his mind. He had never seen her tail as puffed up as it suddenly was.
"...Yes."
He had gone too far, and this was the fall.
Holo's lips trembled in outrage, and she finally slumped, as though defeated. It was as though she had burst a blood vessel out of sheer rage.
Lawrence hastily tried to say something, but she gave him such a sharp glare from underneath her bangs that he snapped his mouth shut almost as soon as he opened it.

Output:
At this point, Lawrence could hardly help but feel irritated, despite still not knowing what this was all about. But before he could reply, Holo continued.
"You were utterly disgraced!"
Lawrence thought back to the trading company, but still did not understand and looked at Holo with eyes more pleading than Col would ever direct at her. Holo the Wisewolf bared her fangs in contempt and then turned away.
"And right in front of me, no less."
"—Ah..." In that instant, everything connected in his mind.
"Yet still you flail around like some sort of simpleton..."
Holo slumped in utter frustration, seemingly about to collapse sideways at any moment. It was Lawrence, meanwhile, who wanted to stand, but Holo's eyes stitched him in place, like a dog ordered to sit.
"If you dare speak now, I'll show you my true ire."
Lawrence's mouth snapped shut as though nailed that way, but the words swirled around in his chest with such energy that his hands trembled of their own accord.
Holo was angry that he had been so easily outmaneuvered by Fran back at Hugues's shop, yes—but what she was truly furious at was that he had done so in front of her very eyes. Given that, he started to see why she had agreed to Fran's vague conditions. It was not out of amusement at Fran's cleverness. Holo was planning to intervene.
This was why she had complained at Fran's silence during the entire time Lawrence had so shrewdly gotten Vino to tell them the whole story and guide them all the way out here—because she was angry not only at Fran but also at the clueless Lawrence.
Aren't you angry at being made such a fool of? she had been thinking. Aren't you angry at being made the fool in front of none other than me?
And then had come the conversation last night.
Lawrence recalled every word Fran spoke, along with every one of Holo's reactions. Immediately, he held his head in his hands, as though enduring a terrible headache, overwhelmed at his own stupidity.
Fran was chasing the legend of the angel because of someone she loved. That was why she had confessed that fact as an apology—because Lawrence was chasing a map of the northlands for the very same reason.
No wonder Holo's mood had improved. And he could certainly understand why she felt the way she did now.
"...I'm sorry." He had been the only one blind to his own foolishness. He could neither blame Holo for her anger nor her exasperation.
"You truly do seem to move from one foolish act to the next."
He had nothing to say in his defense, but Holo seemed to have no further anger to express. It seemed his stupidity really had exhausted her rage.
Holo heaved a sigh and deliberately looked down at her tail. "That was surely more effective than any tiresome grooming." Her anger had caused it to puff up such that it was much fluffier than usual.
Lawrence knew that if he laughed he was likely to get his throat torn out, so he simply listened.
"Still, I suppose this sort of thing is not so uncommon in life," she said, arching her back in a stretch.
Lawrence was not so idiotic as to think they were still discussing the same topic, but he was idiotic enough not to know what she was actually talking about. "...I don't follow you," he said.
Holo looked at him and smiled a self-deprecating smile. "Oh, just that even the ones that get worshipped as gods had the same troubles, that's all."
"Huh?"
"It happened quite often. I didn't much care one way or the other, but the village elders would scold the younger villagers if they bungled the festival preparations, striking them and saying they'd been rude to me, entirely unconcerned with how I might actually feel. I'd watch this all at a loss...and to think that I'd end up doing just the same thing."
Lawrence knew such situations arose when each party valued the other. But what was he supposed to say? Should he apologize? Or thank her?
Either one seemed foolish.


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

Input:
At this point, Lawrence could hardly help but feel irritated, despite still not knowing what this was all about. But before he could reply, Holo continued.
"You were utterly disgraced!"
Lawrence thought back to the trading company, but still did not understand and looked at Holo with eyes more pleading than Col would ever direct at her. Holo the Wisewolf bared her fangs in contempt and then turned away.
"And right in front of me, no less."
"—Ah..." In that instant, everything connected in his mind.
"Yet still you flail around like some sort of simpleton..."
Holo slumped in utter frustration, seemingly about to collapse sideways at any moment. It was Lawrence, meanwhile, who wanted to stand, but Holo's eyes stitched him in place, like a dog ordered to sit.
"If you dare speak now, I'll show you my true ire."
Lawrence's mouth snapped shut as though nailed that way, but the words swirled around in his chest with such energy that his hands trembled of their own accord.
Holo was angry that he had been so easily outmaneuvered by Fran back at Hugues's shop, yes—but what she was truly furious at was that he had done so in front of her very eyes. Given that, he started to see why she had agreed to Fran's vague conditions. It was not out of amusement at Fran's cleverness. Holo was planning to intervene.
This was why she had complained at Fran's silence during the entire time Lawrence had so shrewdly gotten Vino to tell them the whole story and guide them all the way out here—because she was angry not only at Fran but also at the clueless Lawrence.
Aren't you angry at being made such a fool of? she had been thinking. Aren't you angry at being made the fool in front of none other than me?
And then had come the conversation last night.
Lawrence recalled every word Fran spoke, along with every one of Holo's reactions. Immediately, he held his head in his hands, as though enduring a terrible headache, overwhelmed at his own stupidity.
Fran was chasing the legend of the angel because of someone she loved. That was why she had confessed that fact as an apology—because Lawrence was chasing a map of the northlands for the very same reason.
No wonder Holo's mood had improved. And he could certainly understand why she felt the way she did now.
"...I'm sorry." He had been the only one blind to his own foolishness. He could neither blame Holo for her anger nor her exasperation.
"You truly do seem to move from one foolish act to the next."
He had nothing to say in his defense, but Holo seemed to have no further anger to express. It seemed his stupidity really had exhausted her rage.
Holo heaved a sigh and deliberately looked down at her tail. "That was surely more effective than any tiresome grooming." Her anger had caused it to puff up such that it was much fluffier than usual.
Lawrence knew that if he laughed he was likely to get his throat torn out, so he simply listened.
"Still, I suppose this sort of thing is not so uncommon in life," she said, arching her back in a stretch.
Lawrence was not so idiotic as to think they were still discussing the same topic, but he was idiotic enough not to know what she was actually talking about. "...I don't follow you," he said.
Holo looked at him and smiled a self-deprecating smile. "Oh, just that even the ones that get worshipped as gods had the same troubles, that's all."
"Huh?"
"It happened quite often. I didn't much care one way or the other, but the village elders would scold the younger villagers if they bungled the festival preparations, striking them and saying they'd been rude to me, entirely unconcerned with how I might actually feel. I'd watch this all at a loss...and to think that I'd end up doing just the same thing."
Lawrence knew such situations arose when each party valued the other. But what was he supposed to say? Should he apologize? Or thank her?
Either one seemed foolish.

Output:
She wore a malicious smile as she spoke, obviously still scolding Lawrence—though as punishment for making her look a fool, it was a cheap thing.
"The problem is," continued Holo, glancing at the hanging skin partition, "what to do when they're already a silent corpse."
Blasphemy against the dead was not so different from hearing about the oppression of innocent people—it demanded righteous anger.
Holo had said as much when they had started looking for the wolf bones: No matter how strong they had been, her kind couldn't bite back in death. Yet somehow, Sister Katerina had happily accepted being called a witch. Perhaps she had just been eccentric.
But Lawrence did not think so, and neither, evidently, did Holo.
She had been kind, and she had accepted it.
"So—that is my reason for wanting to help the girl."
Back in the village of Pasloe, Holo had been forgotten, rendered as mute as a corpse. In the end, she was unable to endure this indignity. She had kicked the dust from her feet and left. But Katerina's name could still be restored.
As Lawrence thought about it, he noted a certain circular logic. Looking at Holo, he saw that the wisewolf had already realized this.
"Though if we go around saying this or that about someone who's died, we're no better than the villagers. And that dried-out corpse doesn't care what people call it. So my lending a hand is not much different than whoever it is that comes and cleans the cottage."
"It's useful for the living, though." After all, one could no more peer into the minds of the living than one could the dead, and there was certainly no way to act solely in the interests of another.
If you dug deeply enough, you would always arrive at the conclusion that you had acted in your own interests. The only problem was acting in such a way that you could live with yourself afterward.
"'Tis hard indeed to continue moving forward as you live. I do feel for the villagers and their landlord. And of course...," Holo said as she tucked her tail back underneath her robe and then hid her ears in her hood. "...You can't help but cheer for the girl who goes to such efforts for the sake of the one she loves, eh?"
Her words came with that same nasty smile, but they were not wrong. And if this was an indication of a desire to be properly mourned after death, then one had to laugh that they had decided to help Fran.
Lawrence and Holo smiled at each other from across the hearth.
Lawrence bet that if he said he had put too much firewood in the hearth, Holo would laugh and laugh.
Midday came, and soon Fran and Col returned.
Lawrence assumed they had come back for food, but that seemed not to be the case. No sooner did Fran enter the cottage than she pressed Lawrence with a question.
"Will you go to the village and have them draw me a map?"
"...A map?"
"Yes."
Despite the cold, Lawrence could see the sweat on her brow, which made it clear just how hurried they had been. Col had sat down immediately upon returning to the cottage and gulped water noisily from a water skin.
Holo brushed the snow off him like he was an unruly little boy, but he was too tired even to thank her.
Given the state Fran and Col were in, there were not very many possibilities as to the cause.
"Did you find a clue to the legend of the angel?"
No sooner had he asked the question than Lawrence found himself very surprised indeed. He imagined that applied to Holo as well, though she was still tending to Col.
The reason was Fran. As soon as she heard Lawrence's question, she smiled in genuine, unself-conscious delight. It was as though she could not hold it back any longer. The perversely stubborn silversmith. The silversmith of constant and unpleasant rumor. For this innocent, lovely smile to be waiting beneath all that, it had to be her true self.


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

Input:
She wore a malicious smile as she spoke, obviously still scolding Lawrence—though as punishment for making her look a fool, it was a cheap thing.
"The problem is," continued Holo, glancing at the hanging skin partition, "what to do when they're already a silent corpse."
Blasphemy against the dead was not so different from hearing about the oppression of innocent people—it demanded righteous anger.
Holo had said as much when they had started looking for the wolf bones: No matter how strong they had been, her kind couldn't bite back in death. Yet somehow, Sister Katerina had happily accepted being called a witch. Perhaps she had just been eccentric.
But Lawrence did not think so, and neither, evidently, did Holo.
She had been kind, and she had accepted it.
"So—that is my reason for wanting to help the girl."
Back in the village of Pasloe, Holo had been forgotten, rendered as mute as a corpse. In the end, she was unable to endure this indignity. She had kicked the dust from her feet and left. But Katerina's name could still be restored.
As Lawrence thought about it, he noted a certain circular logic. Looking at Holo, he saw that the wisewolf had already realized this.
"Though if we go around saying this or that about someone who's died, we're no better than the villagers. And that dried-out corpse doesn't care what people call it. So my lending a hand is not much different than whoever it is that comes and cleans the cottage."
"It's useful for the living, though." After all, one could no more peer into the minds of the living than one could the dead, and there was certainly no way to act solely in the interests of another.
If you dug deeply enough, you would always arrive at the conclusion that you had acted in your own interests. The only problem was acting in such a way that you could live with yourself afterward.
"'Tis hard indeed to continue moving forward as you live. I do feel for the villagers and their landlord. And of course...," Holo said as she tucked her tail back underneath her robe and then hid her ears in her hood. "...You can't help but cheer for the girl who goes to such efforts for the sake of the one she loves, eh?"
Her words came with that same nasty smile, but they were not wrong. And if this was an indication of a desire to be properly mourned after death, then one had to laugh that they had decided to help Fran.
Lawrence and Holo smiled at each other from across the hearth.
Lawrence bet that if he said he had put too much firewood in the hearth, Holo would laugh and laugh.
Midday came, and soon Fran and Col returned.
Lawrence assumed they had come back for food, but that seemed not to be the case. No sooner did Fran enter the cottage than she pressed Lawrence with a question.
"Will you go to the village and have them draw me a map?"
"...A map?"
"Yes."
Despite the cold, Lawrence could see the sweat on her brow, which made it clear just how hurried they had been. Col had sat down immediately upon returning to the cottage and gulped water noisily from a water skin.
Holo brushed the snow off him like he was an unruly little boy, but he was too tired even to thank her.
Given the state Fran and Col were in, there were not very many possibilities as to the cause.
"Did you find a clue to the legend of the angel?"
No sooner had he asked the question than Lawrence found himself very surprised indeed. He imagined that applied to Holo as well, though she was still tending to Col.
The reason was Fran. As soon as she heard Lawrence's question, she smiled in genuine, unself-conscious delight. It was as though she could not hold it back any longer. The perversely stubborn silversmith. The silversmith of constant and unpleasant rumor. For this innocent, lovely smile to be waiting beneath all that, it had to be her true self.

Output:
Col seemed to have caught his breath, so Holo took the water skin to Fran. It would have been unimaginable not long before, but Fran smiled a grateful smile, which Holo returned.
Fran drank, paused to breathe, then drank more.
They must have run hard. Toward the legend of the angel.
"When you say 'map,' what sort of map do you mean?"
Fran, having caught her breath, started slightly at Lawrence's question. "Hmm?" She looked at him blankly before comprehension finally seemed to dawn on her. She must have planned to tell him what kind of map she needed. "I'm sorry. I need...I need a map that shows how the rivers flow out from the lake."
"The river?" Lawrence asked. It was a strange map to ask for.
"Yes. Walking around the lake, something occurred to me. When it snows and the temperature drops suddenly, all the rivers and streams will freeze. Which means the destination of their flow is lost. Even that waterfall would freeze solid if there were enough snow and cold. But then eventually—well, no barrier will last forever. So I need a map that shows the flow of every stream, no matter how small."
The formerly taciturn Fran, who always seemed as though she were thinking two or three steps ahead of the conversation, was now energetic and voluble. Her expression was serious, but from her rambling words and rapid arm and leg movements, it was obvious she was in a hurry.
"The water would be full of ice and snow, and it would break through and overflow all at once. And it would look like—"
"It would look like the wings of an angel, I should think," said Fran, looking steadily at Lawrence.
She was full of conviction but so happy that she could not believe it herself—that was what she looked like.
The water and snow had been blocked up, unable to flow, and had then broken free one moonlit night. It would've been beautiful, Lawrence thought, and it was an entirely appropriate thing to have been mistaken for an angel's wings. Even knowing the truth, he could imagine calling the scene a miracle nonetheless.
Lawrence excused himself by reminding himself that he would normally never say such an irresponsible thing, and then he spoke to Fran. "I think that's probably it," he said.
Fran was nearly crying from happiness.
"I hope we get to see it."
It seemed to Lawrence that everyone who had ever single-mindedly pursued a goal had something in common: this smile.
"Yes!" replied Fran quickly and clearly.
Fran and Col headed out to the lake again. It seemed she could not bear to spare even the short amount of time it would take to fetch the map.
Col seemed to have been infected with Fran's excitement and followed her out, carrying their things with a seriousness he had never exhibited before.
Holo watched them go, a faintly sad smile playing about her lips. Perhaps she felt as though her favorite little brother were being stolen away.
"Well, then, I suppose we should be off ourselves," said Lawrence, putting his foot in the horse's stirrup.
Holo kept watching Fran and Col, but at these words she turned and came over, taking hold of Lawrence's arm.
He took a breath at the same time she did and lifted her up onto the horse's back. Lawrence followed her up, sitting right in front of her. Taking hold of the reins, he had the horse walk forward.
"She was like a child." Lawrence had to smile at the memory of Fran. Even if he went back to Kerube and told Hugues of it, he doubted the man would believe him.
"'Tis even more childish to believe that an adult should greet a happy event with a calm face." Holo's arms were wrapped around Lawrence and her cheek pressed against his back so that when she talked, the movement of her ear and chin moved ticklishly against him.
"It's true that people become more childish as they get older," said Lawrence, wondering if he should have her sit in front of him.


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

Input:
Col seemed to have caught his breath, so Holo took the water skin to Fran. It would have been unimaginable not long before, but Fran smiled a grateful smile, which Holo returned.
Fran drank, paused to breathe, then drank more.
They must have run hard. Toward the legend of the angel.
"When you say 'map,' what sort of map do you mean?"
Fran, having caught her breath, started slightly at Lawrence's question. "Hmm?" She looked at him blankly before comprehension finally seemed to dawn on her. She must have planned to tell him what kind of map she needed. "I'm sorry. I need...I need a map that shows how the rivers flow out from the lake."
"The river?" Lawrence asked. It was a strange map to ask for.
"Yes. Walking around the lake, something occurred to me. When it snows and the temperature drops suddenly, all the rivers and streams will freeze. Which means the destination of their flow is lost. Even that waterfall would freeze solid if there were enough snow and cold. But then eventually—well, no barrier will last forever. So I need a map that shows the flow of every stream, no matter how small."
The formerly taciturn Fran, who always seemed as though she were thinking two or three steps ahead of the conversation, was now energetic and voluble. Her expression was serious, but from her rambling words and rapid arm and leg movements, it was obvious she was in a hurry.
"The water would be full of ice and snow, and it would break through and overflow all at once. And it would look like—"
"It would look like the wings of an angel, I should think," said Fran, looking steadily at Lawrence.
She was full of conviction but so happy that she could not believe it herself—that was what she looked like.
The water and snow had been blocked up, unable to flow, and had then broken free one moonlit night. It would've been beautiful, Lawrence thought, and it was an entirely appropriate thing to have been mistaken for an angel's wings. Even knowing the truth, he could imagine calling the scene a miracle nonetheless.
Lawrence excused himself by reminding himself that he would normally never say such an irresponsible thing, and then he spoke to Fran. "I think that's probably it," he said.
Fran was nearly crying from happiness.
"I hope we get to see it."
It seemed to Lawrence that everyone who had ever single-mindedly pursued a goal had something in common: this smile.
"Yes!" replied Fran quickly and clearly.
Fran and Col headed out to the lake again. It seemed she could not bear to spare even the short amount of time it would take to fetch the map.
Col seemed to have been infected with Fran's excitement and followed her out, carrying their things with a seriousness he had never exhibited before.
Holo watched them go, a faintly sad smile playing about her lips. Perhaps she felt as though her favorite little brother were being stolen away.
"Well, then, I suppose we should be off ourselves," said Lawrence, putting his foot in the horse's stirrup.
Holo kept watching Fran and Col, but at these words she turned and came over, taking hold of Lawrence's arm.
He took a breath at the same time she did and lifted her up onto the horse's back. Lawrence followed her up, sitting right in front of her. Taking hold of the reins, he had the horse walk forward.
"She was like a child." Lawrence had to smile at the memory of Fran. Even if he went back to Kerube and told Hugues of it, he doubted the man would believe him.
"'Tis even more childish to believe that an adult should greet a happy event with a calm face." Holo's arms were wrapped around Lawrence and her cheek pressed against his back so that when she talked, the movement of her ear and chin moved ticklishly against him.
"It's true that people become more childish as they get older," said Lawrence, wondering if he should have her sit in front of him.

Output:
There by the hearth, Fran had spoken bashfully of someone she had called a friend. There had to be a reason she had come here without them.
Of course, it could very well be that this friend was an artisan in some town somewhere and unable to leave easily. But in this day and age, Lawrence could only imagine darker reasons.
By the way Fran had spoken, it sounded like there was a time when they had traveled together but had to separate during the journey.
The reason might have been injury, sickness, or worse.
Holo switched the cheek that was pressed against Lawrence's back from one side to the other. "And to see such a smile from her after she'd worn so thick a mask. I wonder what she would've done had we not been the ones to escort her? That little fool."
Lawrence sighed softly at Holo's words. "Indeed. They probably would've been scared off by her single-minded determination to chase the angel legend, turned tail, and left her on her own. Such things happen quite often."
Those who feared danger would gain nothing. And yet, pressing on in the face of danger would eventually lead to disaster. If they were to play the part of the bringers of good fortune, they might as well bring it. Holo laughed; she understood this perfectly well.
"Well, she's got pluck enough to use Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu as her messenger. I'd say she's got good fortune to spare."
That was true enough. But it got Lawrence to thinking—just how lucky had he been to have Holo join him in his travels? The moment he thought about it, Holo seemed to see right through him, her cheek still pressed to his back. She chuckled an unpleasant, throaty chuckle. No doubt it had been part of her plan to sit behind him, leaving him nowhere to retreat.
"I'm fortunate indeed to have been blessed with such a wonderful traveling companion as yourself. There, are you happy?"
Holo raised her voice in a laugh. "And just who are you thanking?"
He had come along with her this far, so he had to see it through to the end. "Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu," he said, gripping the reins.
"Mm. Well, see to it that you stay good and thankful."
He heard the sound of her tail swishing.
Profit could warm his coin purse, but never his back. This sort of thing was nice once in a while.
Lawrence urged the horse on, feeling Holo's warmth behind him.
When they returned to the village, it seemed like a perfectly ordinary day.
Some villagers were tending crops, some led livestock, some mended clothing, and some beat cooking pots clean.
Lawrence noticed Holo narrow her eyes wistfully. This was a scene that they could see anywhere—that they could continue to see no matter where they traveled.
"Their lack of integrity angers me, but I can understand why they would wish to protect this," said Holo quietly and meaningfully.
"Indeed. And if Miss Fran is to be believed, there are even some villagers who didn't want to claim Sister Katerina was a witch. Perhaps they meant to gain some redemption by keeping her cottage clean."
It was exceedingly difficult to lead a straightforward, uncomplicated life. Holo remained silent—she understood that no single person was at fault, but was also unwilling to condone the situation.
"Well, if we do our job, the evil witch may well turn back into a pious nun. Then Fran will be able to dedicate herself to searching out the angel legend, she'll draw us our map of the northlands, and everyone will be happy. Right?"
The landlord would probably continue his maneuvering, using the nun's silent corpse as a new reason for the villagers to stay out of the forest. Holo was obviously unsatisfied with that, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Being a clever wolf, Holo could see there was nothing to be gained from anger and let her puffed-up cheeks deflate.
"So first things first—the map. It would be nice if we could track down Mr. Vino."


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

Input:
There by the hearth, Fran had spoken bashfully of someone she had called a friend. There had to be a reason she had come here without them.
Of course, it could very well be that this friend was an artisan in some town somewhere and unable to leave easily. But in this day and age, Lawrence could only imagine darker reasons.
By the way Fran had spoken, it sounded like there was a time when they had traveled together but had to separate during the journey.
The reason might have been injury, sickness, or worse.
Holo switched the cheek that was pressed against Lawrence's back from one side to the other. "And to see such a smile from her after she'd worn so thick a mask. I wonder what she would've done had we not been the ones to escort her? That little fool."
Lawrence sighed softly at Holo's words. "Indeed. They probably would've been scared off by her single-minded determination to chase the angel legend, turned tail, and left her on her own. Such things happen quite often."
Those who feared danger would gain nothing. And yet, pressing on in the face of danger would eventually lead to disaster. If they were to play the part of the bringers of good fortune, they might as well bring it. Holo laughed; she understood this perfectly well.
"Well, she's got pluck enough to use Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu as her messenger. I'd say she's got good fortune to spare."
That was true enough. But it got Lawrence to thinking—just how lucky had he been to have Holo join him in his travels? The moment he thought about it, Holo seemed to see right through him, her cheek still pressed to his back. She chuckled an unpleasant, throaty chuckle. No doubt it had been part of her plan to sit behind him, leaving him nowhere to retreat.
"I'm fortunate indeed to have been blessed with such a wonderful traveling companion as yourself. There, are you happy?"
Holo raised her voice in a laugh. "And just who are you thanking?"
He had come along with her this far, so he had to see it through to the end. "Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu," he said, gripping the reins.
"Mm. Well, see to it that you stay good and thankful."
He heard the sound of her tail swishing.
Profit could warm his coin purse, but never his back. This sort of thing was nice once in a while.
Lawrence urged the horse on, feeling Holo's warmth behind him.
When they returned to the village, it seemed like a perfectly ordinary day.
Some villagers were tending crops, some led livestock, some mended clothing, and some beat cooking pots clean.
Lawrence noticed Holo narrow her eyes wistfully. This was a scene that they could see anywhere—that they could continue to see no matter where they traveled.
"Their lack of integrity angers me, but I can understand why they would wish to protect this," said Holo quietly and meaningfully.
"Indeed. And if Miss Fran is to be believed, there are even some villagers who didn't want to claim Sister Katerina was a witch. Perhaps they meant to gain some redemption by keeping her cottage clean."
It was exceedingly difficult to lead a straightforward, uncomplicated life. Holo remained silent—she understood that no single person was at fault, but was also unwilling to condone the situation.
"Well, if we do our job, the evil witch may well turn back into a pious nun. Then Fran will be able to dedicate herself to searching out the angel legend, she'll draw us our map of the northlands, and everyone will be happy. Right?"
The landlord would probably continue his maneuvering, using the nun's silent corpse as a new reason for the villagers to stay out of the forest. Holo was obviously unsatisfied with that, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Being a clever wolf, Holo could see there was nothing to be gained from anger and let her puffed-up cheeks deflate.
"So first things first—the map. It would be nice if we could track down Mr. Vino."

Output:
The people working in their homes took note of them but didn't seem particularly interested, recognizing them from the previous day's events. Perhaps Mueller or Vino had explained their circumstances.
Just as they were about to head for Vino's house, they came across him in the village square, crafting arrows with some other men. They each had a white arrowhead in their hands and were carving and polishing them with stones. They were probably made from bones taken from the deer they had felled the previous day.
"Mr. Vino," Lawrence called out.
Vino looked up and smiled when he realized who it was. He waved, set down the arrowhead he was working on, and trotted over to Lawrence. "Hey, there. You seem to have made it back safely."
"Yes, thank you. Making arrows, eh?" asked Lawrence.
Vino glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "Aye. It'll be spring soon, with humans and animals alike starting to stir. We'll shoulder our arrows and travel around to nearby landlords and towns to sell them. How did you fare?"
Most arrows made in towns were of iron. They were strong but expensive, and because they were made under the control of the craftsmen's guilds, they could be difficult to obtain with short notice for those without connections or with bad reputations in those towns. Without much else to do during the winter, the villagers seemed to be making ready to fill that demand with their handiwork.
Bone arrowheads were effective enough, especially when smeared with poison, and many archers even preferred them.
"Ah, yes, well, we have a favor to ask."
"Oh ho. What is it?"
"Actually, we need a map drawn for us."
Vino tilted his head at Lawrence's words. "Ah, er, a...map, you say? We don't much use them. What sort of map?"
"One of the area around the lake, including all the streams and rivers that flow out from it."
It seemed to take Vino a moment to understand what Lawrence was saying, and he was silent. When he finally did speak, it was in a voice that sounded hesitant and worried about being overheard. "You're not thinking of building a water mill, are you?" The simple villager's tone was nervously joking.
"We have no need of a water mill," said Lawrence without much enthusiasm. "It seems the way the water flows is important to the angel legend, and Sister Fran requires a map in order to properly guide us."
The explanation smelled fishy even to Lawrence, but Vino nodded, evidently believing it. "Ah, I see. Well, if that's all, it should be fine. The village has been told to cooperate with you, and it gives me an excuse for a break, so."
Regardless of how it was in larger towns, in small villages everyone pitched in on the same work. What was important was not who had done what, but whether all the work had been done or not.
Some found this burdensome and left for the towns, but many others found the camaraderie pleasant and reassuring. Different ways of looking at the same thing could give very different impressions.
"If you please, then," Lawrence replied.
"Well, shall we go see Mr. Mueller? His place is the only one with paper and ink."
"Yes, let's."
Vino nodded, giving his fellow arrow carvers a shout before beginning to walk.
It was not unlike scenes Lawrence had seen at many trading companies, and from time to time, he had thought that it would be nice to have comrades. This pang came to him less now, though—because he had them.
Perhaps Holo was thinking the same thing, because when their eyes met, they shared a secret smile as they followed behind Vino.
"Hey, Mr. Mueller!" called Vino.
Mueller happened to be leaving his house at just that moment. At his side, he had a stack of dried skins, and in one hand he held a large, fine knife. He was probably about to cut them up and make them into boots or the like. Despite Mueller's large body and hands, Lawrence got the feeling he was very skilled in their use.
"Ah, with our visitors. What is it?"
"I'm glad we caught you. We need to borrow paper and ink."


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

Input:
The people working in their homes took note of them but didn't seem particularly interested, recognizing them from the previous day's events. Perhaps Mueller or Vino had explained their circumstances.
Just as they were about to head for Vino's house, they came across him in the village square, crafting arrows with some other men. They each had a white arrowhead in their hands and were carving and polishing them with stones. They were probably made from bones taken from the deer they had felled the previous day.
"Mr. Vino," Lawrence called out.
Vino looked up and smiled when he realized who it was. He waved, set down the arrowhead he was working on, and trotted over to Lawrence. "Hey, there. You seem to have made it back safely."
"Yes, thank you. Making arrows, eh?" asked Lawrence.
Vino glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "Aye. It'll be spring soon, with humans and animals alike starting to stir. We'll shoulder our arrows and travel around to nearby landlords and towns to sell them. How did you fare?"
Most arrows made in towns were of iron. They were strong but expensive, and because they were made under the control of the craftsmen's guilds, they could be difficult to obtain with short notice for those without connections or with bad reputations in those towns. Without much else to do during the winter, the villagers seemed to be making ready to fill that demand with their handiwork.
Bone arrowheads were effective enough, especially when smeared with poison, and many archers even preferred them.
"Ah, yes, well, we have a favor to ask."
"Oh ho. What is it?"
"Actually, we need a map drawn for us."
Vino tilted his head at Lawrence's words. "Ah, er, a...map, you say? We don't much use them. What sort of map?"
"One of the area around the lake, including all the streams and rivers that flow out from it."
It seemed to take Vino a moment to understand what Lawrence was saying, and he was silent. When he finally did speak, it was in a voice that sounded hesitant and worried about being overheard. "You're not thinking of building a water mill, are you?" The simple villager's tone was nervously joking.
"We have no need of a water mill," said Lawrence without much enthusiasm. "It seems the way the water flows is important to the angel legend, and Sister Fran requires a map in order to properly guide us."
The explanation smelled fishy even to Lawrence, but Vino nodded, evidently believing it. "Ah, I see. Well, if that's all, it should be fine. The village has been told to cooperate with you, and it gives me an excuse for a break, so."
Regardless of how it was in larger towns, in small villages everyone pitched in on the same work. What was important was not who had done what, but whether all the work had been done or not.
Some found this burdensome and left for the towns, but many others found the camaraderie pleasant and reassuring. Different ways of looking at the same thing could give very different impressions.
"If you please, then," Lawrence replied.
"Well, shall we go see Mr. Mueller? His place is the only one with paper and ink."
"Yes, let's."
Vino nodded, giving his fellow arrow carvers a shout before beginning to walk.
It was not unlike scenes Lawrence had seen at many trading companies, and from time to time, he had thought that it would be nice to have comrades. This pang came to him less now, though—because he had them.
Perhaps Holo was thinking the same thing, because when their eyes met, they shared a secret smile as they followed behind Vino.
"Hey, Mr. Mueller!" called Vino.
Mueller happened to be leaving his house at just that moment. At his side, he had a stack of dried skins, and in one hand he held a large, fine knife. He was probably about to cut them up and make them into boots or the like. Despite Mueller's large body and hands, Lawrence got the feeling he was very skilled in their use.
"Ah, with our visitors. What is it?"
"I'm glad we caught you. We need to borrow paper and ink."

Output:
"They say they want a map. Of the lake area."
"A map?" Mueller looked back and forth between Vino and Lawrence and seemed to think something over. "Fine," he said eventually, then handed the skins and knife to Vino. "I'll draw it."
Holo looked down, the better to hide her smile beneath her hood. The moment he had heard Mueller's answer, Vino's face had fallen like a child whose toy has been taken away.
"You managed to sneak your way into getting meat yesterday without helping with the deer, didn't you?" said Mueller with a smug, older brotherish smile.
He was right, so Vino had no choice but nod in sad agreement.
"Off you go, then. These are for Lanan, Suk, and Sylhet. Ask Jana about the big one."
"Fine, fine!" grumbled Vino. Mueller grinned as he watched Vino go.
This was a good village, Lawrence thought. It was a shame to have such good cheer spoiled by rumors of a witch.
"I'll draw it inside. A map of the lake, you said?"
"More precisely, the area surrounding the lake, including all the rivers and streams that flow out of it."
Inside the house were hunting implements, knives and clasps for cleaning and tanning skins, workbenches, and sewn into the gaps between all these were necessities like a hearth and straw bed. It had a singular aura, totally unlike a town workshop or trading company. It was a sturdy place, fitting for a man who oversaw an entire village.
"Ah. That's a strange map to need." Unsurprisingly, his reaction was unlike Vino's. And his mind was quicker. "I'll bet Vino asked you if you were planning to build a water mill, eh?"
"He did indeed," Lawrence confessed, which Mueller grinned at.
"That fool. He came to me last night, pale faced, to tell me you'd asked about our hand grinding of grain. I gave him a smack and told him if you'd planned to build a mill, you wouldn't have gone out of your way to point out our ways." Like the landlord, he was skilled at using circumstances to keep the village safe.
Mueller pulled a workbench out and took an old sheaf of paper down from a shelf. "I hope this sort of paper will do."
The paper Mueller produced was old and discolored with tattered corners. It would not have been worth much in a town.
"For your trouble," said Lawrence, producing some salt, which Mueller nodded at, satisfied.
"Now then," said Mueller as he took out a cracked, old inkstone and a battered quill pen. "I don't think it will take much time, but feel free to sit anywhere."
Lawrence nodded and sat down on a chest. Holo teased a chicken that had wandered its way into the house.
"So how goes your quest for the legend?" Mueller asked. His gaze was directed at the top of the paper, and though his hand was quickly drawing the map, his attention was entirely on Lawrence.
Lawrence doubted this was merely small talk.
"She seems to have seized upon something. She was very insistent that I come and get this map."
"Ah, I see," said Mueller as he drew. He could probably endure any amount of waiting against an animal, but not, apparently, against human opponents. Soon he spoke again. "Was there a witch?"
This was what he was most concerned about. As the one most responsible for protecting the village, he was more worried about shapeless rumors than he was about water mills. When it came right down to it, they could stop the construction of a mill by chaining themselves to the trees. But banishing rumors of a witch was much more difficult.
His hand stopped, and even a child could tell his eyes were not focused on the paper. Lawrence watched Holo harassing the chicken, then smiled and spoke. "No, there wasn't."
The quiet scratching of the quill resumed. "I see," Mueller said and then continued the work in silence. Such a man was well suited to being a hunter. "This map would be different depending on the season."
As Mueller spoke, Holo and the chicken seemed to have come to an understanding, with the latter tucking its head under its wing and sleeping at her feet.
"She said all she needed was a map for the winter."


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

Input:
"They say they want a map. Of the lake area."
"A map?" Mueller looked back and forth between Vino and Lawrence and seemed to think something over. "Fine," he said eventually, then handed the skins and knife to Vino. "I'll draw it."
Holo looked down, the better to hide her smile beneath her hood. The moment he had heard Mueller's answer, Vino's face had fallen like a child whose toy has been taken away.
"You managed to sneak your way into getting meat yesterday without helping with the deer, didn't you?" said Mueller with a smug, older brotherish smile.
He was right, so Vino had no choice but nod in sad agreement.
"Off you go, then. These are for Lanan, Suk, and Sylhet. Ask Jana about the big one."
"Fine, fine!" grumbled Vino. Mueller grinned as he watched Vino go.
This was a good village, Lawrence thought. It was a shame to have such good cheer spoiled by rumors of a witch.
"I'll draw it inside. A map of the lake, you said?"
"More precisely, the area surrounding the lake, including all the rivers and streams that flow out of it."
Inside the house were hunting implements, knives and clasps for cleaning and tanning skins, workbenches, and sewn into the gaps between all these were necessities like a hearth and straw bed. It had a singular aura, totally unlike a town workshop or trading company. It was a sturdy place, fitting for a man who oversaw an entire village.
"Ah. That's a strange map to need." Unsurprisingly, his reaction was unlike Vino's. And his mind was quicker. "I'll bet Vino asked you if you were planning to build a water mill, eh?"
"He did indeed," Lawrence confessed, which Mueller grinned at.
"That fool. He came to me last night, pale faced, to tell me you'd asked about our hand grinding of grain. I gave him a smack and told him if you'd planned to build a mill, you wouldn't have gone out of your way to point out our ways." Like the landlord, he was skilled at using circumstances to keep the village safe.
Mueller pulled a workbench out and took an old sheaf of paper down from a shelf. "I hope this sort of paper will do."
The paper Mueller produced was old and discolored with tattered corners. It would not have been worth much in a town.
"For your trouble," said Lawrence, producing some salt, which Mueller nodded at, satisfied.
"Now then," said Mueller as he took out a cracked, old inkstone and a battered quill pen. "I don't think it will take much time, but feel free to sit anywhere."
Lawrence nodded and sat down on a chest. Holo teased a chicken that had wandered its way into the house.
"So how goes your quest for the legend?" Mueller asked. His gaze was directed at the top of the paper, and though his hand was quickly drawing the map, his attention was entirely on Lawrence.
Lawrence doubted this was merely small talk.
"She seems to have seized upon something. She was very insistent that I come and get this map."
"Ah, I see," said Mueller as he drew. He could probably endure any amount of waiting against an animal, but not, apparently, against human opponents. Soon he spoke again. "Was there a witch?"
This was what he was most concerned about. As the one most responsible for protecting the village, he was more worried about shapeless rumors than he was about water mills. When it came right down to it, they could stop the construction of a mill by chaining themselves to the trees. But banishing rumors of a witch was much more difficult.
His hand stopped, and even a child could tell his eyes were not focused on the paper. Lawrence watched Holo harassing the chicken, then smiled and spoke. "No, there wasn't."
The quiet scratching of the quill resumed. "I see," Mueller said and then continued the work in silence. Such a man was well suited to being a hunter. "This map would be different depending on the season."
As Mueller spoke, Holo and the chicken seemed to have come to an understanding, with the latter tucking its head under its wing and sleeping at her feet.
"She said all she needed was a map for the winter."

Output:
"You can take it once the ink's dry. Given the hour, you ought to be able to make it by sunset."
"Thank you very much."
"Not at all. I'm sure Vino said the same thing last night."
It didn't seem to Lawrence as though Mueller was trying to avoid work, but it was good manners to laugh at the joke anyway.
Mueller accepted the bag of salt. In a village so poor in currency, finding some of the basic necessities could be a constant struggle.
"My thanks," he said. "Now, I ought to go check in on Vino. You'd be surprised at how clumsy he can be. If he ruins those skins, I'll have to beat his backside with the tendons."
It was every bit the sort of thing a master craftsman would say, and Lawrence could not help but laugh. Holo was leaning against the doorway, and she smiled as she watched the village, listening to Lawrence and Mueller's conversation. If one were to wish for a certain day to continue forever, this would be a good day to pick.
But then, she raised her voice in a curious "Hmm?" as Mueller left the house and had just gotten to the space under the eaves.
"What is it?" Mueller stopped in his tracks and looked off into the distance.
His eyes were fixed on a spot outside the village, roughly where the elder had been sitting when he stopped Lawrence the previous day. It was a place on the road leading into the village that anyone entering would have to pass. Lawrence heard something that sounded like the footsteps of rats and soon realized it was the sound of horses at a great distance. He looked hard and saw what looked to be an old man riding at the head, trailed by many armed men who carried spears.
Mueller watched them disappear behind a house, and his face went instantly pale. "—!" He dropped the bag of tools he was carrying and started running as the riders came out from behind the house and headed for the center of the village. The startled chicken started to run, and Holo stood.
"What's the matter?"
"I have no idea. But they have spears."
"Mm."
If Lawrence's eyes did not deceive him, there were flags dangling from the spears. Mercenaries would be armed with poleaxes rather than spears. That left few possibilities.
He heard voices calling from the distance.
"We summon Mueller and the village elder!"
Holo turned to Lawrence, but Lawrence had nothing to say—because Mueller had run out of the house across from them and was coming toward them.
"The landlord's governor. He's finally come!" Mueller's forehead was sweaty and his face pale.
He ran into the house, opened a chest, and produced a bundle of parchment from a pot. It was probably the charter that most villages had.
Something that threatened the very existence of the village had happened.
"You two—" said Mueller, looking at the parchment. "There's a path to the lake from the rear of the village. It's well maintained, so you shouldn't have any problems. The governor doesn't know about you, so if you run you should arrive quickly. Tell the nun, will you please?" he said, rolling the map up on the workbench and thrusting it at Lawrence before bodily urging them toward the house's rear door. There was a finality to his movement that was more compelling than any physical strength.
Once they got to the rear door, Lawrence peered at Mueller's face.
"Tell her that the landlord's come to lay waste to any lands where the legend of the angel remains. And tell her to tell the Church."
"But—"
"Please! If you don't hurry, it will be too late!"
Lawrence gave Holo a quick look; she nodded.
Yet there was a hesitation in her eyes—she was surely considering whether or not they should simply run. After all, none of them had come to prove that Katerina was a witch, and the landlord should, if anything, be glad for the existence of Church figures who believed her to be a simple nun.
But then Mueller said a strange thing. "We'll repay this favor. For the sister's sake, as well." He looked back at the door, then again to Lawrence. "The forest and the lake will be destroyed."


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

Input:
"You can take it once the ink's dry. Given the hour, you ought to be able to make it by sunset."
"Thank you very much."
"Not at all. I'm sure Vino said the same thing last night."
It didn't seem to Lawrence as though Mueller was trying to avoid work, but it was good manners to laugh at the joke anyway.
Mueller accepted the bag of salt. In a village so poor in currency, finding some of the basic necessities could be a constant struggle.
"My thanks," he said. "Now, I ought to go check in on Vino. You'd be surprised at how clumsy he can be. If he ruins those skins, I'll have to beat his backside with the tendons."
It was every bit the sort of thing a master craftsman would say, and Lawrence could not help but laugh. Holo was leaning against the doorway, and she smiled as she watched the village, listening to Lawrence and Mueller's conversation. If one were to wish for a certain day to continue forever, this would be a good day to pick.
But then, she raised her voice in a curious "Hmm?" as Mueller left the house and had just gotten to the space under the eaves.
"What is it?" Mueller stopped in his tracks and looked off into the distance.
His eyes were fixed on a spot outside the village, roughly where the elder had been sitting when he stopped Lawrence the previous day. It was a place on the road leading into the village that anyone entering would have to pass. Lawrence heard something that sounded like the footsteps of rats and soon realized it was the sound of horses at a great distance. He looked hard and saw what looked to be an old man riding at the head, trailed by many armed men who carried spears.
Mueller watched them disappear behind a house, and his face went instantly pale. "—!" He dropped the bag of tools he was carrying and started running as the riders came out from behind the house and headed for the center of the village. The startled chicken started to run, and Holo stood.
"What's the matter?"
"I have no idea. But they have spears."
"Mm."
If Lawrence's eyes did not deceive him, there were flags dangling from the spears. Mercenaries would be armed with poleaxes rather than spears. That left few possibilities.
He heard voices calling from the distance.
"We summon Mueller and the village elder!"
Holo turned to Lawrence, but Lawrence had nothing to say—because Mueller had run out of the house across from them and was coming toward them.
"The landlord's governor. He's finally come!" Mueller's forehead was sweaty and his face pale.
He ran into the house, opened a chest, and produced a bundle of parchment from a pot. It was probably the charter that most villages had.
Something that threatened the very existence of the village had happened.
"You two—" said Mueller, looking at the parchment. "There's a path to the lake from the rear of the village. It's well maintained, so you shouldn't have any problems. The governor doesn't know about you, so if you run you should arrive quickly. Tell the nun, will you please?" he said, rolling the map up on the workbench and thrusting it at Lawrence before bodily urging them toward the house's rear door. There was a finality to his movement that was more compelling than any physical strength.
Once they got to the rear door, Lawrence peered at Mueller's face.
"Tell her that the landlord's come to lay waste to any lands where the legend of the angel remains. And tell her to tell the Church."
"But—"
"Please! If you don't hurry, it will be too late!"
Lawrence gave Holo a quick look; she nodded.
Yet there was a hesitation in her eyes—she was surely considering whether or not they should simply run. After all, none of them had come to prove that Katerina was a witch, and the landlord should, if anything, be glad for the existence of Church figures who believed her to be a simple nun.
But then Mueller said a strange thing. "We'll repay this favor. For the sister's sake, as well." He looked back at the door, then again to Lawrence. "The forest and the lake will be destroyed."

Output:
Lawrence hesitated but eventually took Holo's hand and ran.
The forest and the lake would be destroyed?
The question burned inside him as he ran.
***
They soon found the path from the back of the village into the forest.
It was narrow, just wide enough to accommodate hunters carrying felled deer. Still, the snow was packed hard with footsteps and brushed free from sticks and branches, so it was well traveled and running was easy.
Lawrence and Holo ran for all they were worth through the trees in the forest.
"What was all that about?"
"No idea. He said that was the governor. Seems like it'll be...trouble for the village." Lawrence took a break in the middle of his sentence to jump over a tree root. Lawrence lifted the hem of Holo's robe to do likewise, which she managed quite lightly.
"He said the forest and lake would be destroyed."
"He did," said Lawrence, and just then he thought of something.
The governor and his troops had descended on the village, sending the village's representative, Mueller, into a panic. And if the forest and the lake were going to be destroyed, that suggested but one thing.
But he said nothing about it to Holo—not for any particular reason, but simply because his breath was too ragged for him to speak.
Holo started to lag, and Lawrence took her hand as they ascended a gentle hill.
"I should've taken...my true form," said Holo, though whether she was joking or not was unclear. Just then, the path made a sudden left turn and brightened. Following the line of sight, they could see the lake. They kept going that way for a time, soon reaching a side path that descended to the lake. Down the slope they slid.
There were footprints—perhaps Col's and Fran's—by the lake, but they seemed to run in two directions, both coming and going.
Lawrence looked around, and there were two figures at the entrance to the path that led to the cottage by the waterfall. They seemed to be watching something and were not moving. Lawrence waved his hand and was about to call out to them, but then Holo stopped him.
"Ngh! Hey—what's wrong?"
"Don't raise your voice," said Holo quietly. For a moment he wondered if she was making some kind of joke, but there was nothing funny about her expression.
Lawrence directed his gaze back at Fran and Col, and then he realized they were not looking at anything, much less being affectionate with each other.
They were stock-still. As though they were holding their breath.
"There's probably someone at the bottom of the hill."
"...If that's so, shouldn't they hide?"
"Fool. In this kind of place, even if they're in plain sight they won't be spotted, so long as they don't move. But even behind the trees, if we move, we'll be spotted."
Holo was a wolf, a hunter of the forest, so if she said so, it was true.
Now that she had told him, Lawrence found that when he looked more closely he could see Fran's and Col's bodies frozen in place, with Col in a characteristically awkward, panicked pose.
Fran had done exactly the right thing.
But what Lawrence wanted to know was why she was familiar with the tactics for such rough circumstances when even he had been unfamiliar with them?
"Hmph." Holo sniffed, probably thinking the same thing.
After a while, Fran's pose relaxed, and she faced Lawrence and Holo, beckoning them over. Despite the good distance between them, she seemed to have recognized them.
Lawrence gave the displeased Holo a nudge from behind, and the two of them ran in Fran's direction.
"What happened?" Lawrence asked Fran.
Col's anxiety seemed to evaporate when he recognized Lawrence and Holo, and he collapsed to the ground in relief.
"Soldiers came to the cottage. And you?"
"The same. Soldiers at the village. Apparently the landlord has come in force. They say the forest and lake will be destroyed."


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

Input:
Lawrence hesitated but eventually took Holo's hand and ran.
The forest and the lake would be destroyed?
The question burned inside him as he ran.
***
They soon found the path from the back of the village into the forest.
It was narrow, just wide enough to accommodate hunters carrying felled deer. Still, the snow was packed hard with footsteps and brushed free from sticks and branches, so it was well traveled and running was easy.
Lawrence and Holo ran for all they were worth through the trees in the forest.
"What was all that about?"
"No idea. He said that was the governor. Seems like it'll be...trouble for the village." Lawrence took a break in the middle of his sentence to jump over a tree root. Lawrence lifted the hem of Holo's robe to do likewise, which she managed quite lightly.
"He said the forest and lake would be destroyed."
"He did," said Lawrence, and just then he thought of something.
The governor and his troops had descended on the village, sending the village's representative, Mueller, into a panic. And if the forest and the lake were going to be destroyed, that suggested but one thing.
But he said nothing about it to Holo—not for any particular reason, but simply because his breath was too ragged for him to speak.
Holo started to lag, and Lawrence took her hand as they ascended a gentle hill.
"I should've taken...my true form," said Holo, though whether she was joking or not was unclear. Just then, the path made a sudden left turn and brightened. Following the line of sight, they could see the lake. They kept going that way for a time, soon reaching a side path that descended to the lake. Down the slope they slid.
There were footprints—perhaps Col's and Fran's—by the lake, but they seemed to run in two directions, both coming and going.
Lawrence looked around, and there were two figures at the entrance to the path that led to the cottage by the waterfall. They seemed to be watching something and were not moving. Lawrence waved his hand and was about to call out to them, but then Holo stopped him.
"Ngh! Hey—what's wrong?"
"Don't raise your voice," said Holo quietly. For a moment he wondered if she was making some kind of joke, but there was nothing funny about her expression.
Lawrence directed his gaze back at Fran and Col, and then he realized they were not looking at anything, much less being affectionate with each other.
They were stock-still. As though they were holding their breath.
"There's probably someone at the bottom of the hill."
"...If that's so, shouldn't they hide?"
"Fool. In this kind of place, even if they're in plain sight they won't be spotted, so long as they don't move. But even behind the trees, if we move, we'll be spotted."
Holo was a wolf, a hunter of the forest, so if she said so, it was true.
Now that she had told him, Lawrence found that when he looked more closely he could see Fran's and Col's bodies frozen in place, with Col in a characteristically awkward, panicked pose.
Fran had done exactly the right thing.
But what Lawrence wanted to know was why she was familiar with the tactics for such rough circumstances when even he had been unfamiliar with them?
"Hmph." Holo sniffed, probably thinking the same thing.
After a while, Fran's pose relaxed, and she faced Lawrence and Holo, beckoning them over. Despite the good distance between them, she seemed to have recognized them.
Lawrence gave the displeased Holo a nudge from behind, and the two of them ran in Fran's direction.
"What happened?" Lawrence asked Fran.
Col's anxiety seemed to evaporate when he recognized Lawrence and Holo, and he collapsed to the ground in relief.
"Soldiers came to the cottage. And you?"
"The same. Soldiers at the village. Apparently the landlord has come in force. They say the forest and lake will be destroyed."

Output:
"I'm impressed with their lack of scruples."
"You mean—" Lawrence said, but before he could even finish the question, Fran continued.
"They've come here to make Katerina no more."
In that instant, Lawrence understood their goal.
Katerina was already dead, so Fran's words took on a more literal meaning.
"I suppose you could say we're in an age of money, where things like Church or pagan no longer matter." It was a good line. Fran chuckled blackly through her anger at the joke and then sighed. "I'd come so far...and now the landlord decides to act? I was so close...so, so close...," she said, frustrated, the sound of her clenching fists audible even beneath her robe.
Having been cast about between the Church and the pagans, the landlord had chosen a third option. Seeing the visible decline of Church power, he had surely grown sick of being used by them. He would erase every trace of Katerina, distancing himself from religious conflicts and never bothering to clear her name.
Moreover, he would construct a water mill, and in conjunction with a new northern campaign incited by the Debau Company, he would use the mill's power to attract craftsmen and workers—for in the face of money, what could the Church or the pagans say?
"Did you get the map?" Fran looked up, almost glaring at Lawrence.
"I did...but please, wait a moment."
Fran started to step forward, but Lawrence stopped her, giving her a look that was every bit as serious as the one she wore.
"Please calm down. If the landlord has decided to destroy all traces of Katerina, then our presence is an obstacle. Arguing with him will be impossible, and he's hardly likely to let you continue to investigate the legend of the angel."
Fran's face contorted at Lawrence's words. The girl was no fool. Even in anger, she was just as clever as she had always been.
"I know the legend was right in front of you. And I know you didn't come here on some whim. But it's too dangerous.
"We must flee."
When Lawrence said the words, Fran flinched as though physically struck by them, taking one step back, then another. He could understand Col hurrying to her side to support her. Had he failed to do so, she would have fallen to the ground.
"...No...I can't...I was so close..."
It was so recently that she had been delighted, unable to contain her excitement as she jumped into the cottage. And now her despair was proportional to her anticipation, too heavy to bear.
Holo's face was pained, and she said nothing.
If they were going to run, they would have to do so now, while the soldiers had briefly retreated.
"I'm sorry, but...," Lawrence started, and he tried to take Fran's hand. But then—
"Lud Kieman told me about you."
Lawrence was at a loss for words, partially because he did not understand what she meant. But it was not because suddenly hearing Kieman's name felt like she had correctly guessed something that should have been a secret. If she was going to partner with Lawrence and his companions, a simple investigation would have led her to Kerube, where it was reasonable to imagine she would soon have found Kieman.
What gave Lawrence pause was a more rational premonition entirely. Or else his merchant's instincts had come to a different conclusion on their own, quite separately from reason or logic.
In that instant, Lawrence understood what Fran was trying to say.
"He said you fear no god, you seize opportunities for profit, and you use your connections with skill." Fran wiped her tears and tried without success to smile a bold smile. Her failure to do so only made her seem more desperate.
Lawrence had to ask, praying he had guessed wrong.
"What is it you would have me do?"
"Please tell them that Katerina Lucci is a saint."
Lawrence could understand why Col and Holo would look so dubious.
Religious strategies of any sort were becoming impossible. So why would she fixate on that? Surely both Col and Holo were wondering as much—but not Lawrence.


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

Input:
"I'm impressed with their lack of scruples."
"You mean—" Lawrence said, but before he could even finish the question, Fran continued.
"They've come here to make Katerina no more."
In that instant, Lawrence understood their goal.
Katerina was already dead, so Fran's words took on a more literal meaning.
"I suppose you could say we're in an age of money, where things like Church or pagan no longer matter." It was a good line. Fran chuckled blackly through her anger at the joke and then sighed. "I'd come so far...and now the landlord decides to act? I was so close...so, so close...," she said, frustrated, the sound of her clenching fists audible even beneath her robe.
Having been cast about between the Church and the pagans, the landlord had chosen a third option. Seeing the visible decline of Church power, he had surely grown sick of being used by them. He would erase every trace of Katerina, distancing himself from religious conflicts and never bothering to clear her name.
Moreover, he would construct a water mill, and in conjunction with a new northern campaign incited by the Debau Company, he would use the mill's power to attract craftsmen and workers—for in the face of money, what could the Church or the pagans say?
"Did you get the map?" Fran looked up, almost glaring at Lawrence.
"I did...but please, wait a moment."
Fran started to step forward, but Lawrence stopped her, giving her a look that was every bit as serious as the one she wore.
"Please calm down. If the landlord has decided to destroy all traces of Katerina, then our presence is an obstacle. Arguing with him will be impossible, and he's hardly likely to let you continue to investigate the legend of the angel."
Fran's face contorted at Lawrence's words. The girl was no fool. Even in anger, she was just as clever as she had always been.
"I know the legend was right in front of you. And I know you didn't come here on some whim. But it's too dangerous.
"We must flee."
When Lawrence said the words, Fran flinched as though physically struck by them, taking one step back, then another. He could understand Col hurrying to her side to support her. Had he failed to do so, she would have fallen to the ground.
"...No...I can't...I was so close..."
It was so recently that she had been delighted, unable to contain her excitement as she jumped into the cottage. And now her despair was proportional to her anticipation, too heavy to bear.
Holo's face was pained, and she said nothing.
If they were going to run, they would have to do so now, while the soldiers had briefly retreated.
"I'm sorry, but...," Lawrence started, and he tried to take Fran's hand. But then—
"Lud Kieman told me about you."
Lawrence was at a loss for words, partially because he did not understand what she meant. But it was not because suddenly hearing Kieman's name felt like she had correctly guessed something that should have been a secret. If she was going to partner with Lawrence and his companions, a simple investigation would have led her to Kerube, where it was reasonable to imagine she would soon have found Kieman.
What gave Lawrence pause was a more rational premonition entirely. Or else his merchant's instincts had come to a different conclusion on their own, quite separately from reason or logic.
In that instant, Lawrence understood what Fran was trying to say.
"He said you fear no god, you seize opportunities for profit, and you use your connections with skill." Fran wiped her tears and tried without success to smile a bold smile. Her failure to do so only made her seem more desperate.
Lawrence had to ask, praying he had guessed wrong.
"What is it you would have me do?"
"Please tell them that Katerina Lucci is a saint."
Lawrence could understand why Col and Holo would look so dubious.
Religious strategies of any sort were becoming impossible. So why would she fixate on that? Surely both Col and Holo were wondering as much—but not Lawrence.

Output:
"That can't be..."
"Her candidacy for canonization has been submitted. They hid their identities in Lenos, but she had many among the nobility that supported her. The petition for her canonization to the pontiff has been submitted and even now is on the desk of the cardinalate. What do you think?"
When she finished speaking, Fran closed her mouth, as though her mind was entirely made up. And it was true—what she said carried weight.
Fran, the dauntless, lonely silversmith. She had made an irritatingly pragmatic decision in perfect keeping with her reputation.
Lawrence swallowed. "When Sister Katerina becomes Saint Katerina, everything in that cottage, including her body, will become holy relics."
At the words holy relics, Col raised his voice in a surprised "Ah!"
That seemed to be the signal for Fran to finally succeed at smiling a thin, faint smile. "When the landlord learns how much holy relics can be worth, he'll give up on the water mill. If you doubt me, let's go back to the cottage and look at her diary. It's filled with the names and details of lords from many different lands. Even the fact that the cottage has been left alone is probably because the canonization proceedings were stalled."
It was the sort of thing that Lawrence had only ever heard in rumors.
When someone was canonized as a saint, anything connected to their person could for whatever reason be sold for huge amounts of money. If they were reputed to have performed miracles, then pilgrims would come, and not just from the Church, but also the surrounding region. Noblemen would sometimes band together in order to get clergy from their area canonized, but the application required an extravagant amount of money.
From the perspective of the nobility, it was a large gamble involving their happiness in the afterlife against their wealth while they still lived.
It was said that many had gone bankrupt trying to accomplish it, and yet it kept being tried because the potential gains were enormous.
Katerina Lucci was destined to be dragged into someone's scheme.
"So you want me to sell...a saint?"
"I have heard that you're experienced in business." She smiled the same smile she had used at Hugues's shop when she claimed a map of the north would cost him fifty lumione. But this time, he could not let it go.
Lawrence delivered his reply. "This is madness. There is no way a merchant like me can handle holy relics. Even if I passed myself off as one, it would last but a moment. With the narwhal in Kerube, it was Kieman who handled the bulk of the exchange, along with another merchant who was former nobility. And in Winfiel, I was on the edges of a deal involving a holy relic, but to be blunt, it wasn't on a scale that involved me."
Money was not something that just accumulated. Its quality and nature could change from one moment to another. From an amount that could purchase a good to an amount that could purchase a person's heart to one that could change a person's destiny.
A holy relic was in that same company.
But Fran never took her gaze from Lawrence, and standing her ground, she played her final trump card. "In exchange, I'll draw you a map of the northlands. Right away, if you like."
A moment passed.
"...What?" he replied out of simple shock.
It was as though she felt it was entirely fair to offer a simple map in return for him fabricating a saint and undertaking the dangerous business of dealing in holy relics constructed from lies.
Fran looked at him evenly.
"Do you truly believe that's a fair trade?" Lawrence could not help asking.
In that moment, Fran's face was somehow charming. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, as though she might reply at any moment, "I do indeed!"
But unlike when Lawrence had told her about the villagers who had come to the cottage, something else poured into her expression, replacing her fading surprise.
That brown skin and those black eyes.