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

Input:
That's what nearly anyone would say had they hit upon this plan.
"Your method lets the Debau Company evade taxation, too. Each time they trade copper coin with the Jean Company, they lose two crates of coins from their books. And if there's no profit, they don't have to pay taxes. Now, then—"
Lawrence paused to clear his throat, and Reynolds took the opportunity.
"What do you want? How much? What's your goal? Tell me!" Even caught off guard, Reynolds managed to control himself well enough not to raise his voice.
Lawrence put a hand on his shoulder as though to calm him, smiled, and continued.
"I am a mere messenger. Such negotiations..." He glanced over his shoulder past the crowd in the hallway. "...Will need to be discussed with my associates there."
What was left of Reynolds's pride prevented him from collapsing to his knees on the spot. It would have been one thing if they had been the sort of merchants who could be cajoled or bribed. But the people waiting past the hallway at the entrance for Reynolds were misers who would happily commit murder.
"Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm a mere traveling merchant trying to find some wolf bones, after all," Lawrence said, turning and walking away.
As he passed Kieman and Eve, he briefly shook their hands. The two of them were quite capable of cooking Reynolds's goose—of that he had no doubt.
He walked along the corridor, passing the grim-faced merchants there.
He wasn't the hero.
He wasn't a great merchant.
He wasn't meant for a grand stage, nor did he have strings he could pull at will.
As he emerged from the church's front door, the sun was completely down, and the torches behind him cast long shadows out into the night.
When he looked back, the grand structure was given a strangely ominous majesty, being lit from below as it was by the torchlight.
He descended the stone steps, passed through the crowd gathered to watch the commotion at the church, and continued on.
It wasn't that he was particularly confident. There was simply a place he had to go. A familiar scene in a familiar building.
He entered through the door he himself had left open, climbing the creaking stairs to the third floor. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness, so the hall was a bit dark, but he could tell where the door was.
He stood in front of it and knocked twice, slowly.
A presence on the other side of the door moved, and the door was soon opened.
From the open door leaked candlelight and the smell of food. It had been a dizzying few days. Nonetheless, Lawrence smiled and spoke.
"I'm back."
Holo and Col replied, "Welcome back."
The door gently closed behind him.
***
In the end, they never quite found out what sort of absurd deal Kieman and Eve had forced down Reynolds's throat. But going by the fact that the narwhal trade between Reynolds and the southerners—which had very nearly ended in disaster—wound up concluding smoothly, he must have accepted the involvement of the Rowen Trade Guild.
Reynolds still technically purchased the narwhal, but in exchange for silence about his dishonesty and the Debau Company's tax evasion, the profits would go to the southerners via the Rowen Trade Guild.
Or something roughly along those lines.
In order to quiet the northern landlords, Eve had probably acted as a mediator and directly allotted them a share of the proceeds.
That was what Lawrence could gather from the state of the town, and he had no particular desire to know the whole truth. He'd been excused from acting as Kieman's tool as well as nearly conspiring with Eve, so it was water under the bridge.
And the next day saw them treated to a midday meal that fairly overflowed from the table. Lawrence didn't even bother to ask who had footed the bill.
"So, where is our next destination?" asked Holo as she devoured a piece of meat so tender it needed neither knife nor tooth to cut it.
The food was so decadent that Col was having difficulty swallowing.

Output:
"Eve's going to send someone around to tell us what they managed to learn from Reynolds about the wolf bones, so on that count you needn't worry."
"Mm. 'Tis a mere verbal contract," said Holo, devouring a deep-fried fish head.
As one would expect from a coastal port town, there was a bowl full of sea salt on the table, and Holo had sprinkled it liberally on the morsel, and it seemed to be delicious indeed.
She took bite after bite and quickly finished it off.
"You're well aware of how important verbal contracts are, aren't you?"
Holo said nothing in response to Lawrence's question, instead licking her fingers clean like a cat.
"Anyway, my guess is we'll end up crossing the channel..."
"The sea?" Col looked up from his intense deliberations over whether or not to eat the shrimp head in front of him or leave it on his plate.
"They're an island nation that imports foreign currency, so they're full of people who excel at buying all sorts of things."
It wasn't clear whether Col understood, but the moment he looked back down at the shrimp head, Holo snatched it away and popped it into her mouth.
It crunched audibly as she chewed it.
Col seemed more surprised at Holo's eating of the shrimp than he was at having it stolen from him.
"You can eat shrimp heads. They're rather tasty."
"Wha...?"
Holo would have been pleased if he'd worn an envious expression, but even the wisewolf was weak against such sad faces.
"Hmph," she muttered, pulling back the hand that had been reaching for the rest of his shrimp.
"You two eat nicely," said Lawrence. It was an obvious joke, but he still found himself plucking an herb stem from his face that had been flung there by Holo. "Honestly," he sighed, and just then there was a hesitant knock at the door.
Col started to stand, but Lawrence had been expecting this, so he wound up going to the door.
"It's probably Eve's messenger," he said, opening the door a crack.
Only the shameless or the boastful flung the door wide-open during a meal. When he saw the face of their guest past the cracked door, he was glad he hadn't opened it wide.
"My, perhaps I should've gone in," said Eve mischievously as Lawrence stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Holo would still be able to hear them perfectly, but that was better than a fight breaking out.
"You jest. Still, I didn't expect you to come yourself."
"You wound me. I'm not the kind who forgets a debt—and I owe you my life."
She narrowed her eyes beneath her scarf, never truly letting anyone know whether she was joking or not. And yet if Lawrence were asked if he was unhappy she had come in person, the truth was that he was not.
"So, about what you asked me."
"What news?"
"It turns out Reynolds did have some notion of where the bones went."
Concerned about her choice of words, Lawrence pressed her. "Some notion?"
"I mean, his conclusion was just short of mine." She cocked her head, obviously giving him a hard time.
Eve had the information that Lawrence and Holo most wanted all along.
"Don't be angry. I didn't think things would turn out this way."
"And?"
"Heh. I don't feel like you had such a serious face yesterday." She poked his chin with her finger, which made him scowl. She might have had some wine, to be in such fine spirits. "I'll just say it—it's in the Winfiel kingdom, my homelands, at the Great Blondel Monastery. Do you know it?"
"Blon...Wait, not the golden sheep?"
"Oh ho, so you know the tale. Here on the mainland, only the older generation seems to know of it. But yes, the great monastery with the legend of the golden sheep."
Out on the great plains that stretched as far as one could see, there was a monastery that tended a flock so vast even God couldn't count their number. There was a legend that every few hundred years, there appeared a sheep with golden fleece amid that great flock.
It was the richest monastery in the Winfiel kingdom, its might as formidable as even the greatest trading company.


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

Input:
"Eve's going to send someone around to tell us what they managed to learn from Reynolds about the wolf bones, so on that count you needn't worry."
"Mm. 'Tis a mere verbal contract," said Holo, devouring a deep-fried fish head.
As one would expect from a coastal port town, there was a bowl full of sea salt on the table, and Holo had sprinkled it liberally on the morsel, and it seemed to be delicious indeed.
She took bite after bite and quickly finished it off.
"You're well aware of how important verbal contracts are, aren't you?"
Holo said nothing in response to Lawrence's question, instead licking her fingers clean like a cat.
"Anyway, my guess is we'll end up crossing the channel..."
"The sea?" Col looked up from his intense deliberations over whether or not to eat the shrimp head in front of him or leave it on his plate.
"They're an island nation that imports foreign currency, so they're full of people who excel at buying all sorts of things."
It wasn't clear whether Col understood, but the moment he looked back down at the shrimp head, Holo snatched it away and popped it into her mouth.
It crunched audibly as she chewed it.
Col seemed more surprised at Holo's eating of the shrimp than he was at having it stolen from him.
"You can eat shrimp heads. They're rather tasty."
"Wha...?"
Holo would have been pleased if he'd worn an envious expression, but even the wisewolf was weak against such sad faces.
"Hmph," she muttered, pulling back the hand that had been reaching for the rest of his shrimp.
"You two eat nicely," said Lawrence. It was an obvious joke, but he still found himself plucking an herb stem from his face that had been flung there by Holo. "Honestly," he sighed, and just then there was a hesitant knock at the door.
Col started to stand, but Lawrence had been expecting this, so he wound up going to the door.
"It's probably Eve's messenger," he said, opening the door a crack.
Only the shameless or the boastful flung the door wide-open during a meal. When he saw the face of their guest past the cracked door, he was glad he hadn't opened it wide.
"My, perhaps I should've gone in," said Eve mischievously as Lawrence stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Holo would still be able to hear them perfectly, but that was better than a fight breaking out.
"You jest. Still, I didn't expect you to come yourself."
"You wound me. I'm not the kind who forgets a debt—and I owe you my life."
She narrowed her eyes beneath her scarf, never truly letting anyone know whether she was joking or not. And yet if Lawrence were asked if he was unhappy she had come in person, the truth was that he was not.
"So, about what you asked me."
"What news?"
"It turns out Reynolds did have some notion of where the bones went."
Concerned about her choice of words, Lawrence pressed her. "Some notion?"
"I mean, his conclusion was just short of mine." She cocked her head, obviously giving him a hard time.
Eve had the information that Lawrence and Holo most wanted all along.
"Don't be angry. I didn't think things would turn out this way."
"And?"
"Heh. I don't feel like you had such a serious face yesterday." She poked his chin with her finger, which made him scowl. She might have had some wine, to be in such fine spirits. "I'll just say it—it's in the Winfiel kingdom, my homelands, at the Great Blondel Monastery. Do you know it?"
"Blon...Wait, not the golden sheep?"
"Oh ho, so you know the tale. Here on the mainland, only the older generation seems to know of it. But yes, the great monastery with the legend of the golden sheep."
Out on the great plains that stretched as far as one could see, there was a monastery that tended a flock so vast even God couldn't count their number. There was a legend that every few hundred years, there appeared a sheep with golden fleece amid that great flock.
It was the richest monastery in the Winfiel kingdom, its might as formidable as even the greatest trading company.

Output:
"No, thank you, truly. I'll be certain to repay—"
Eve's smile cut Lawrence's words right off. "Don't be rude now. The fact is I'm in your debt. I got both Arold and my fur back. I've readied a ship heading south. So you see—" she said, slowly extending her hand.
She looked right at Lawrence, smiling a genuine smile. "I hope you'll forgive me."
Lawrence smiled and looked down to shake her offered hand—that's when it happened.
***
He couldn't begin to guess at whether he could ever have anticipated such a thing happening. His mind went white with surprise.
"...This scent, is it abi leaf? Kieman must've treated you to quite a feast." Eve smiled casually, replacing her scarf as though nothing had happened. "You taught me that business is most profitable when you take your opponent by surprise. That was payment for the lesson."
Lawrence's mind still hadn't caught up as she put her hand on his shoulder and moved closer to his face.
"My name might be of some use in Winfiel. Fleur von Eiterzental Bolan. That's my formal name, but there's another name known only to those close to me. Fleur von Eiterzental Mariel Bolana. I rather like the sound of Mariel," she said, with an innocent smile Lawrence would have liked to see unveiled.
"I hope it's of some use to you, Lawrence."
Her sudden use of his name stunned him for a moment, but he quickly replied, "It will be."
"Kraft Lawrence...I'm glad I met you."
They were her words as a veteran merchant, whose traveling clothes well suited her. Her scarf was wrapped snugly around her head, and she was clad bodily with her thorough preparation.
She took her hands from Lawrence's shoulders, straightened herself, and quietly extended her hand again.
She was such a perfectly fresh traveling merchant it was almost frustrating.
"I'll never forget the name Eve Bolan."
"Heh. Wherever you find money, you'll find me. I'm sure we'll meet again."
She pulled her hand away crisply and turned on her heel, walking off without a single lingering regret.
Lawrence turned back to the door behind him and was about to open it, when his hand stopped.
"Huh? What's wrong?" The door was open, and there stood Col. For some reason he was holding a plate heaped with food and wearing a worried expression. "Um, she told me to go out and see."
Owing to the door's angle, Lawrence couldn't see Holo from where he stood. But from Col's words and his appearance, he could put the pieces together. He patted Col's head.
"Wait here in the hall for a bit," he said.
Lawrence wasn't sure if he had managed to make the right smile, but smile he must, he knew.
Col nodded obediently and went past Lawrence and into the hallway. As he went, Lawrence plucked a morsel off his plate.
It was a bitter-smelling herb, abi. The one Eve had named.
The same herb that Holo had tossed at his face.
He popped it into his mouth, entering the room as he chewed it and closing the door behind him.
"I don't want to remember what happened next." If Lawrence had been writing his biography, that's how he would have ended the chapter.
He murmured as much to himself in an effort to escape reality.
***
It has been a while. This is Isuna Hasekura. You now hold the second volume of a two-volume piece.
This one was so hard that it made me nostalgic for the days when I thought I'd be able to finish it quickly for once. Despite thus far being able to finish the development and conclusion of my stories within a single volume, having ended the previous volume on a cliff-hanger, I knew I had to fit the conclusion into this volume, which was why it was so difficult.
Additionally, not knowing how much more material would result from adding a certain number of plot developments made me constantly nervous over whether I was running too long or too short.
It was certainly good experience for me, and I'm relieved to have completed it.
I must naturally apologize for having made you all wait four months. I'll write like crazy from here on out! I'll write, I swear!


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

Input:
"No, thank you, truly. I'll be certain to repay—"
Eve's smile cut Lawrence's words right off. "Don't be rude now. The fact is I'm in your debt. I got both Arold and my fur back. I've readied a ship heading south. So you see—" she said, slowly extending her hand.
She looked right at Lawrence, smiling a genuine smile. "I hope you'll forgive me."
Lawrence smiled and looked down to shake her offered hand—that's when it happened.
***
He couldn't begin to guess at whether he could ever have anticipated such a thing happening. His mind went white with surprise.
"...This scent, is it abi leaf? Kieman must've treated you to quite a feast." Eve smiled casually, replacing her scarf as though nothing had happened. "You taught me that business is most profitable when you take your opponent by surprise. That was payment for the lesson."
Lawrence's mind still hadn't caught up as she put her hand on his shoulder and moved closer to his face.
"My name might be of some use in Winfiel. Fleur von Eiterzental Bolan. That's my formal name, but there's another name known only to those close to me. Fleur von Eiterzental Mariel Bolana. I rather like the sound of Mariel," she said, with an innocent smile Lawrence would have liked to see unveiled.
"I hope it's of some use to you, Lawrence."
Her sudden use of his name stunned him for a moment, but he quickly replied, "It will be."
"Kraft Lawrence...I'm glad I met you."
They were her words as a veteran merchant, whose traveling clothes well suited her. Her scarf was wrapped snugly around her head, and she was clad bodily with her thorough preparation.
She took her hands from Lawrence's shoulders, straightened herself, and quietly extended her hand again.
She was such a perfectly fresh traveling merchant it was almost frustrating.
"I'll never forget the name Eve Bolan."
"Heh. Wherever you find money, you'll find me. I'm sure we'll meet again."
She pulled her hand away crisply and turned on her heel, walking off without a single lingering regret.
Lawrence turned back to the door behind him and was about to open it, when his hand stopped.
"Huh? What's wrong?" The door was open, and there stood Col. For some reason he was holding a plate heaped with food and wearing a worried expression. "Um, she told me to go out and see."
Owing to the door's angle, Lawrence couldn't see Holo from where he stood. But from Col's words and his appearance, he could put the pieces together. He patted Col's head.
"Wait here in the hall for a bit," he said.
Lawrence wasn't sure if he had managed to make the right smile, but smile he must, he knew.
Col nodded obediently and went past Lawrence and into the hallway. As he went, Lawrence plucked a morsel off his plate.
It was a bitter-smelling herb, abi. The one Eve had named.
The same herb that Holo had tossed at his face.
He popped it into his mouth, entering the room as he chewed it and closing the door behind him.
"I don't want to remember what happened next." If Lawrence had been writing his biography, that's how he would have ended the chapter.
He murmured as much to himself in an effort to escape reality.
***
It has been a while. This is Isuna Hasekura. You now hold the second volume of a two-volume piece.
This one was so hard that it made me nostalgic for the days when I thought I'd be able to finish it quickly for once. Despite thus far being able to finish the development and conclusion of my stories within a single volume, having ended the previous volume on a cliff-hanger, I knew I had to fit the conclusion into this volume, which was why it was so difficult.
Additionally, not knowing how much more material would result from adding a certain number of plot developments made me constantly nervous over whether I was running too long or too short.
It was certainly good experience for me, and I'm relieved to have completed it.
I must naturally apologize for having made you all wait four months. I'll write like crazy from here on out! I'll write, I swear!

Output:
And yet, the day I found I couldn't fit any more books into the bookshelves, I could no longer stand it. From that moment, it was not so very long before I couldn't do a thing about cleaning the rooms. Frightening, indeed.
And so I've moved into a slightly larger place, and life is pleasant.
Space in the room is space in the mind! I don't even get mad when my PC auto updates and restarts in the middle of a game.
The rooms are so pleasant, in fact, that I start wondering if I shouldn't get a cute little aquarium to put somewhere. I feel like I could handle taking care of a little blowfish, say, and for a betta I could just put some water into a jam bottle—and given that I bought a book on tropical fish just a few days before writing this afterword, it may be only a matter of time.
However, living room aside, I'm no nearer to anything remotely approaching a library or study...
But as I hope to have the place tidied up in time for the next move, I've found myself buried in pages, so—I shall see you all again in the next volume!
Isuna Hasekura
Isuna Hasekura
Born December 27, 1982, winner of the twelfth Dengeki Novel Prize Silver Medal. Despite studying physics in college, when deadlines approach he subscribes to the psychological theory of "I can do it if I just work hard," then agonizes about whether, as a man of science, he should instead be thinking, "This is physically impossible."
Works from Dengeki Bunko:
Spice and Wolf
Spice and Wolf II
Spice and Wolf III
Spice and Wolf IV
Spice and Wolf V
Illustrations: Jyuu Ayakura
Born 1981. Birthplace: Kyoto. Blood type: AB. Currently living a free, spartan life in Tokyo. Lately he's been thinking of moving, but the rent within the twenty-three wards has left him in despair.
***
Candles are a luxury.
On top of only illuminating about as much space as one can encircle with one's arms, they burn out after only a short time.
Thus, candles are generally only burned when conducting activities that cannot be done in daylight—activities like carefully paring down the edges of a gold coin with a knife, sewing a secret pouch into the bottom of a burlap sack, or placing heavily taxed salt into that pouch.
When business was especially good, Lawrence might even sketch out the facade of the shop he hoped to someday own, on paper that was itself none too cheap.
And all of these activities were of a sort that one smiled to oneself while performing them.
The Church sometimes preached that smiling to oneself at night invited demons—no doubt this was thanks to the image of the lone merchant, chuckling to himself at his desk late at night.
Long ago, he himself had tossed nervously in his blanket after having seen the hunched-over form of his master late at night.
When had his habit of keeping a candle burning despite having no particular tasks to attend to begun? He watched the wick burn down slowly, staring at the wine in his cup—wine he had no intention of drinking.
No, he knew perfectly well why he kept the candle burning.
For so long the night had been nothing but an obstacle to his business, but now he wanted to savor it just a bit longer—savor this quiet, peaceful time before tomorrow arrived with its inevitable noise and bother.
He could hear the alternating sighs of two slumbering. If it allowed him to go on listening to that peaceful sound, he did not mind lighting another candle.
But if he failed to sleep soon himself, his body would pay the price.
He smiled soundlessly and made as though to blow the candle out—but just before he did, he hesitated and looked at the source of the sleeping breaths.
Even in the dark, all would be well.
The image lingered in his vision right up until the moment he drifted off to sleep.
***
The moment it left port, a ship became a very unreliable mode of transportation.


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

Input:
And yet, the day I found I couldn't fit any more books into the bookshelves, I could no longer stand it. From that moment, it was not so very long before I couldn't do a thing about cleaning the rooms. Frightening, indeed.
And so I've moved into a slightly larger place, and life is pleasant.
Space in the room is space in the mind! I don't even get mad when my PC auto updates and restarts in the middle of a game.
The rooms are so pleasant, in fact, that I start wondering if I shouldn't get a cute little aquarium to put somewhere. I feel like I could handle taking care of a little blowfish, say, and for a betta I could just put some water into a jam bottle—and given that I bought a book on tropical fish just a few days before writing this afterword, it may be only a matter of time.
However, living room aside, I'm no nearer to anything remotely approaching a library or study...
But as I hope to have the place tidied up in time for the next move, I've found myself buried in pages, so—I shall see you all again in the next volume!
Isuna Hasekura
Isuna Hasekura
Born December 27, 1982, winner of the twelfth Dengeki Novel Prize Silver Medal. Despite studying physics in college, when deadlines approach he subscribes to the psychological theory of "I can do it if I just work hard," then agonizes about whether, as a man of science, he should instead be thinking, "This is physically impossible."
Works from Dengeki Bunko:
Spice and Wolf
Spice and Wolf II
Spice and Wolf III
Spice and Wolf IV
Spice and Wolf V
Illustrations: Jyuu Ayakura
Born 1981. Birthplace: Kyoto. Blood type: AB. Currently living a free, spartan life in Tokyo. Lately he's been thinking of moving, but the rent within the twenty-three wards has left him in despair.
***
Candles are a luxury.
On top of only illuminating about as much space as one can encircle with one's arms, they burn out after only a short time.
Thus, candles are generally only burned when conducting activities that cannot be done in daylight—activities like carefully paring down the edges of a gold coin with a knife, sewing a secret pouch into the bottom of a burlap sack, or placing heavily taxed salt into that pouch.
When business was especially good, Lawrence might even sketch out the facade of the shop he hoped to someday own, on paper that was itself none too cheap.
And all of these activities were of a sort that one smiled to oneself while performing them.
The Church sometimes preached that smiling to oneself at night invited demons—no doubt this was thanks to the image of the lone merchant, chuckling to himself at his desk late at night.
Long ago, he himself had tossed nervously in his blanket after having seen the hunched-over form of his master late at night.
When had his habit of keeping a candle burning despite having no particular tasks to attend to begun? He watched the wick burn down slowly, staring at the wine in his cup—wine he had no intention of drinking.
No, he knew perfectly well why he kept the candle burning.
For so long the night had been nothing but an obstacle to his business, but now he wanted to savor it just a bit longer—savor this quiet, peaceful time before tomorrow arrived with its inevitable noise and bother.
He could hear the alternating sighs of two slumbering. If it allowed him to go on listening to that peaceful sound, he did not mind lighting another candle.
But if he failed to sleep soon himself, his body would pay the price.
He smiled soundlessly and made as though to blow the candle out—but just before he did, he hesitated and looked at the source of the sleeping breaths.
Even in the dark, all would be well.
The image lingered in his vision right up until the moment he drifted off to sleep.
***
The moment it left port, a ship became a very unreliable mode of transportation.

Output:
"Evidently"—as Lawrence himself was not the one who felt this way.
He had two traveling companions, who played happily about on the ship's deck while it remained at the port. Once it launched, though, and they had gone belowdecks with the rest of the cargo and passengers, Col clung to Lawrence and refused to let go.
Slight of build and delicate, his trembling, curled-up form gave him the look of a kitten. Lawrence, naturally, did not laugh, instead letting the boy sit, trembling, upon his lap.
In the seven years since he had turned eighteen and ventured out on his own as a traveling merchant, Lawrence had traveled far and wide and sampled all manner of experiences. He remembered well his first sea voyage and how every movement of the ship had made him want to cry out, so he could hardly laugh at the boy.
Such thoughts occupied his mind as he gently patted the boy's trembling back.
Yet he couldn't help but smile wryly, looking over the dim, musty interior of the ship's hold.
Though it was a bit unfair to the trembling boy, Lawrence rather wished it were his other companion who was in such a state.
If only Col had been the energetic one—the wandering student was often mistaken for a girl and was normally both perceptive and well behaved.
Lawrence sighed as he caught sight of a form descending into the hold from the ship's deck.
"'Tis the sea! The sea!" His other companion, Holo, plopped herself down, eyes aglitter.
She was hooded and wore a robe that reached all the way down to her ankles, dressed every inch a nun. But with her frolicking atop the deck and her casual cross-legged posture, it was plainly obvious to anyone that she was no nun.
Her appearance was only for convenience's sake; it was easier for all if she appeared as a nun.
So Lawrence had no particular desire to furrow his brow at her coarse manner, but he did pull down the edge of her robe with the hand that wasn't busy patting Col.
"Hmm?" Holo looked over her shoulder at him with a quizzical expression.
"The tail you're so very proud of."
Holo grinned at Lawrence's words, hiding her tail under her robe.
In addition to identifying Holo as a nun, the long, hooded robe she wore served another important purpose. It hid the wolf tail that sprouted from the rump of what appeared to be a young girl, as well as concealing the wolf ears atop her head.
The mouth with which she grinned had very sharp teeth.
Holo was not the young girl she appeared to be.
She was a centuries-old wolf god transformed into human form.
"Still, though—the sea!"
"I know, I know. Could you not calm yourself a bit? You're like a dog seeing snow for the first time."
"Urgh...how can one remain calm? 'Tis so vast! Vaster than the vastest plain I've ever seen! 'Tis well they call it 'the deep'!"
"You've seen the sea before, haven't you?"
"Aye. I've run my heart out along the beach, jumping into the waves out of a longing to cross the ocean. How grand it would be if I could race over its boundless surface—when humans see birds, do they not long to fly? How can you not long to run, seeing the sea?"
Though she had many a time proclaimed herself to be the Wisewolf of Yoitsu and demonstrated her cleverness to Lawrence time and again, in that moment Holo seemed every bit a puppy to him.
Feeling a bit irritable, he answered her. "I might well wonder what lands lay far across the ocean, but even then, I hardly feel like running over it."
"You're a useless male."
Despite being cut off so curtly, Lawrence didn't so much as wince. He certainly understood what it was to be excited at the sight of the ocean.
While he did occasionally catch a glimpse of Holo's more beast-like tendencies, seeing her act so thoroughly puppyish made him anxious about what could happen in the future.
After all, their ship was bound for the snowy kingdom of Winfiel. A cat would want to curl up in front of the fireplace, but a dog would go dashing through the snow. He wondered seriously if a collar and leash would be appropriate.


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

Input:
"Evidently"—as Lawrence himself was not the one who felt this way.
He had two traveling companions, who played happily about on the ship's deck while it remained at the port. Once it launched, though, and they had gone belowdecks with the rest of the cargo and passengers, Col clung to Lawrence and refused to let go.
Slight of build and delicate, his trembling, curled-up form gave him the look of a kitten. Lawrence, naturally, did not laugh, instead letting the boy sit, trembling, upon his lap.
In the seven years since he had turned eighteen and ventured out on his own as a traveling merchant, Lawrence had traveled far and wide and sampled all manner of experiences. He remembered well his first sea voyage and how every movement of the ship had made him want to cry out, so he could hardly laugh at the boy.
Such thoughts occupied his mind as he gently patted the boy's trembling back.
Yet he couldn't help but smile wryly, looking over the dim, musty interior of the ship's hold.
Though it was a bit unfair to the trembling boy, Lawrence rather wished it were his other companion who was in such a state.
If only Col had been the energetic one—the wandering student was often mistaken for a girl and was normally both perceptive and well behaved.
Lawrence sighed as he caught sight of a form descending into the hold from the ship's deck.
"'Tis the sea! The sea!" His other companion, Holo, plopped herself down, eyes aglitter.
She was hooded and wore a robe that reached all the way down to her ankles, dressed every inch a nun. But with her frolicking atop the deck and her casual cross-legged posture, it was plainly obvious to anyone that she was no nun.
Her appearance was only for convenience's sake; it was easier for all if she appeared as a nun.
So Lawrence had no particular desire to furrow his brow at her coarse manner, but he did pull down the edge of her robe with the hand that wasn't busy patting Col.
"Hmm?" Holo looked over her shoulder at him with a quizzical expression.
"The tail you're so very proud of."
Holo grinned at Lawrence's words, hiding her tail under her robe.
In addition to identifying Holo as a nun, the long, hooded robe she wore served another important purpose. It hid the wolf tail that sprouted from the rump of what appeared to be a young girl, as well as concealing the wolf ears atop her head.
The mouth with which she grinned had very sharp teeth.
Holo was not the young girl she appeared to be.
She was a centuries-old wolf god transformed into human form.
"Still, though—the sea!"
"I know, I know. Could you not calm yourself a bit? You're like a dog seeing snow for the first time."
"Urgh...how can one remain calm? 'Tis so vast! Vaster than the vastest plain I've ever seen! 'Tis well they call it 'the deep'!"
"You've seen the sea before, haven't you?"
"Aye. I've run my heart out along the beach, jumping into the waves out of a longing to cross the ocean. How grand it would be if I could race over its boundless surface—when humans see birds, do they not long to fly? How can you not long to run, seeing the sea?"
Though she had many a time proclaimed herself to be the Wisewolf of Yoitsu and demonstrated her cleverness to Lawrence time and again, in that moment Holo seemed every bit a puppy to him.
Feeling a bit irritable, he answered her. "I might well wonder what lands lay far across the ocean, but even then, I hardly feel like running over it."
"You're a useless male."
Despite being cut off so curtly, Lawrence didn't so much as wince. He certainly understood what it was to be excited at the sight of the ocean.
While he did occasionally catch a glimpse of Holo's more beast-like tendencies, seeing her act so thoroughly puppyish made him anxious about what could happen in the future.
After all, their ship was bound for the snowy kingdom of Winfiel. A cat would want to curl up in front of the fireplace, but a dog would go dashing through the snow. He wondered seriously if a collar and leash would be appropriate.

Output:
"Here, get under this blanket. If you keep running around in the cold and wet, you'll catch cold."
"Mmph...'Tis a shame the sea wind is so wet. The salt smell confuses my nose, it does." Beneath the blanket that she wrapped around over her robe, Holo sniffed, as though the scent of the familiar fabric would clear her nose. "Oh, by the way—"
"Hmm?"
"I faintly saw a bit of land ahead. Is that our destination?"
"No, that's just another island. We'll head north from here and probably arrive in the evening."
The kingdom of Winfiel was a large island surrounded by a scattering of smaller ones, separated from the mainland by a strait, across which one could just barely make out the opposite shore.
There was a legend that long ago, a war had raged across the strait, and a warrior who was the incarnation of a war god had thrown a spear all the way across it.
That was, of course, nonsense, but it did illustrate the narrow width of the strait.
"Hmm. Well, I surely hope the wind blows steady."
"The wind?"
"We'll make no progress with a headwind, will we? 'Tis well now, though, with our sails full of a tailwind."
For a moment, Lawrence was not sure of what expression he should make. If he flaunted his better knowledge too obviously, there was no telling what hell he might catch for it later.
He smiled, though not so smugly as to invite irritation. "True," he said. "But a ship can make progress even with a headwind. It's a bit slower, of course."
"..." Partially concealed beneath her robe and blanket, Holo looked up at him suspiciously, like a fox peering out of its burrow. Her flicking ears made it clear she doubted the truth of his statement.
"I can understand why you might not believe it without seeing it. But even with a headwind, a boat heads diagonally into the wind, tacking left, then right. Evidently the first sailors to discover this technique were accused of witchcraft by the Church."
"..." Holo glared at Lawrence dubiously for a moment, but eventually seemed to believe him.
"Still, to think we'd end up crossing the sea," he murmured with a slight smile, then looked up at the ceiling of the hold.
With each undulation of the ship, the decks would creak worryingly, but it was a lullaby one had only to become used to. The first time he had been on a ship, Lawrence was terribly afraid it would simply fall to pieces.
"I suppose your beloved horse is resting easy, munching on hay at this very moment."
"It's not as though I wanted to give him a break—there's just little for him to do right now. I envy him."
"Oh ho, whence this bitterness?"
Broadly speaking, the stated reason for Lawrence and his companions' current journey was to fulfill Holo's wish. Of course, both Lawrence and Holo were well aware that was a mere pretense, so Holo was clearly just teasing him a bit.
"I suppose it's true that both of us are on a hiatus from our work...but it would be nice to just relax, that's all I meant."
Up until a few days previous, Lawrence had been caught up in a disturbance that threatened to rip the town of Kerube—from which they'd departed—in half.
A legendary animal, a narwhal, had been caught in some fisherman's net, and some very clever merchants had fought over the tremendously valuable creature.
Lawrence's original goal had been information regarding the foreleg bones of a wolf-god like Holo, but after a series of twists and turns, he had wound up in the very heart of the tumult.
Many times he had thought of himself as a dirty, money-hungry merchant, but the incident had taught him the truth of the saying that there's always a bigger fish. In Kerube, he had met Kieman, the young manager of a trade guild's branch office, and Eve, who had planned to betray the entire town and keep all the profit for herself.


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

Input:
"Here, get under this blanket. If you keep running around in the cold and wet, you'll catch cold."
"Mmph...'Tis a shame the sea wind is so wet. The salt smell confuses my nose, it does." Beneath the blanket that she wrapped around over her robe, Holo sniffed, as though the scent of the familiar fabric would clear her nose. "Oh, by the way—"
"Hmm?"
"I faintly saw a bit of land ahead. Is that our destination?"
"No, that's just another island. We'll head north from here and probably arrive in the evening."
The kingdom of Winfiel was a large island surrounded by a scattering of smaller ones, separated from the mainland by a strait, across which one could just barely make out the opposite shore.
There was a legend that long ago, a war had raged across the strait, and a warrior who was the incarnation of a war god had thrown a spear all the way across it.
That was, of course, nonsense, but it did illustrate the narrow width of the strait.
"Hmm. Well, I surely hope the wind blows steady."
"The wind?"
"We'll make no progress with a headwind, will we? 'Tis well now, though, with our sails full of a tailwind."
For a moment, Lawrence was not sure of what expression he should make. If he flaunted his better knowledge too obviously, there was no telling what hell he might catch for it later.
He smiled, though not so smugly as to invite irritation. "True," he said. "But a ship can make progress even with a headwind. It's a bit slower, of course."
"..." Partially concealed beneath her robe and blanket, Holo looked up at him suspiciously, like a fox peering out of its burrow. Her flicking ears made it clear she doubted the truth of his statement.
"I can understand why you might not believe it without seeing it. But even with a headwind, a boat heads diagonally into the wind, tacking left, then right. Evidently the first sailors to discover this technique were accused of witchcraft by the Church."
"..." Holo glared at Lawrence dubiously for a moment, but eventually seemed to believe him.
"Still, to think we'd end up crossing the sea," he murmured with a slight smile, then looked up at the ceiling of the hold.
With each undulation of the ship, the decks would creak worryingly, but it was a lullaby one had only to become used to. The first time he had been on a ship, Lawrence was terribly afraid it would simply fall to pieces.
"I suppose your beloved horse is resting easy, munching on hay at this very moment."
"It's not as though I wanted to give him a break—there's just little for him to do right now. I envy him."
"Oh ho, whence this bitterness?"
Broadly speaking, the stated reason for Lawrence and his companions' current journey was to fulfill Holo's wish. Of course, both Lawrence and Holo were well aware that was a mere pretense, so Holo was clearly just teasing him a bit.
"I suppose it's true that both of us are on a hiatus from our work...but it would be nice to just relax, that's all I meant."
Up until a few days previous, Lawrence had been caught up in a disturbance that threatened to rip the town of Kerube—from which they'd departed—in half.
A legendary animal, a narwhal, had been caught in some fisherman's net, and some very clever merchants had fought over the tremendously valuable creature.
Lawrence's original goal had been information regarding the foreleg bones of a wolf-god like Holo, but after a series of twists and turns, he had wound up in the very heart of the tumult.
Many times he had thought of himself as a dirty, money-hungry merchant, but the incident had taught him the truth of the saying that there's always a bigger fish. In Kerube, he had met Kieman, the young manager of a trade guild's branch office, and Eve, who had planned to betray the entire town and keep all the profit for herself.

Output:
In his breast pocket were letters of introduction from Kieman and Eve that would give him at least some moderate advantage. On this, his first trip to the kingdom of Winfiel, those letters were weapons whose presence reassured him greatly.
Of course, just as beasts hated the smell of iron, Holo hated the smell of those letters.
"Still, you did receive a reward for all that trouble, did you not? Surely 'twill count as a bit of savings, anyway."
"...Ah, so you're the reason those silver coins went missing from my coin purse, eh?"
"Without my help, you'd hardly have managed such a crisis. Given that, my price is a cheap one," said Holo easily, pulling the blanket more snugly about herself.
The wolf knew exactly how far she could push someone before they lost their temper. Though the contents of a merchant's purse were his lifeblood, Lawrence could not rouse himself to anger and simply gave a helpless sigh.
"Surely you gave the boy his share, too, yes?" Lawrence said, pointing to Col, which Holo sniffed at and closed her eyes.
Col's wits had proven the key to solving their problems in Kerube. But given his personality, he could not possibly have asked for any reward, and even if offered one, he would not have accepted it.
By stealing money from Lawrence's coin purse, Holo had forced him to take it. No doubt she had made sure to do her thieving while Lawrence was out and Col was watching, thus making him an accomplice.
Lawrence patted the boy's curled-up form. Holo's tail swished audibly.
"Still, the Great Abbey of Brondel will be a troublesome place."
"Is it filled with bigoted old men?" Holo's face popped out of the blanket.
Lawrence coughed and patted his chest, then answered. "'The great abbey of Brondel's reputation precedes it far and wide. Its august grandeur makes pagan gods tremble, and its magnificence supports countless men. Ah, mighty abbey of Brondel, dwelling place of the most high God.'"
Holo wrinkled her nose at Lawrence's grandiose recitation of the famous lines of poetry. As she was one of those same pagan gods, it did not sound like a particularly pleasant place for her.
"Of course, regardless of how many saints it may have produced long ago, these days people like us should feel right at home there."
"Hmm?"
"Its holy reputation means it receives huge donations of land and truly outlandish tithes—and given that, they have to manage those assets, whether they want to or not. And being the dwelling place of God, they have keep those assets sparkling. These days it's practically a trading company itself. And as it's run by an arrogant monk, it's got all the ingredients to be a nasty place indeed."
Once, when the papacy of the main Church sect had clashed with a secular monarch, it was said that the pope had banished the king to the snowy plains for a full three days. A merchant would hardly have gotten off so easily. Anecdotes of the unreasonable obstacles the Church foisted on merchants were a popular topic of small talk among them when trying to close a deal.
Nevertheless, recent rumors were that the great Abbey of Brondel's business had receded, though the only ones to suffer during such recessions were the commoners—the nobility only grew more confident.
"And the bones we seek are in this nasty place?" Holo lowered her voice, given the topic.
Lawrence nodded vaguely—though he had received the information from Eve, he was none too confident in it.
"There's a good chance of that, but in any case they'll be hidden away behind the great walls of the abbey. They say God himself doesn't know what happens within them."
"I once heard a sermon that said nothing can be truly hidden."
"Your feelings show up well enough in your ears and tail, it's true."


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

Input:
In his breast pocket were letters of introduction from Kieman and Eve that would give him at least some moderate advantage. On this, his first trip to the kingdom of Winfiel, those letters were weapons whose presence reassured him greatly.
Of course, just as beasts hated the smell of iron, Holo hated the smell of those letters.
"Still, you did receive a reward for all that trouble, did you not? Surely 'twill count as a bit of savings, anyway."
"...Ah, so you're the reason those silver coins went missing from my coin purse, eh?"
"Without my help, you'd hardly have managed such a crisis. Given that, my price is a cheap one," said Holo easily, pulling the blanket more snugly about herself.
The wolf knew exactly how far she could push someone before they lost their temper. Though the contents of a merchant's purse were his lifeblood, Lawrence could not rouse himself to anger and simply gave a helpless sigh.
"Surely you gave the boy his share, too, yes?" Lawrence said, pointing to Col, which Holo sniffed at and closed her eyes.
Col's wits had proven the key to solving their problems in Kerube. But given his personality, he could not possibly have asked for any reward, and even if offered one, he would not have accepted it.
By stealing money from Lawrence's coin purse, Holo had forced him to take it. No doubt she had made sure to do her thieving while Lawrence was out and Col was watching, thus making him an accomplice.
Lawrence patted the boy's curled-up form. Holo's tail swished audibly.
"Still, the Great Abbey of Brondel will be a troublesome place."
"Is it filled with bigoted old men?" Holo's face popped out of the blanket.
Lawrence coughed and patted his chest, then answered. "'The great abbey of Brondel's reputation precedes it far and wide. Its august grandeur makes pagan gods tremble, and its magnificence supports countless men. Ah, mighty abbey of Brondel, dwelling place of the most high God.'"
Holo wrinkled her nose at Lawrence's grandiose recitation of the famous lines of poetry. As she was one of those same pagan gods, it did not sound like a particularly pleasant place for her.
"Of course, regardless of how many saints it may have produced long ago, these days people like us should feel right at home there."
"Hmm?"
"Its holy reputation means it receives huge donations of land and truly outlandish tithes—and given that, they have to manage those assets, whether they want to or not. And being the dwelling place of God, they have keep those assets sparkling. These days it's practically a trading company itself. And as it's run by an arrogant monk, it's got all the ingredients to be a nasty place indeed."
Once, when the papacy of the main Church sect had clashed with a secular monarch, it was said that the pope had banished the king to the snowy plains for a full three days. A merchant would hardly have gotten off so easily. Anecdotes of the unreasonable obstacles the Church foisted on merchants were a popular topic of small talk among them when trying to close a deal.
Nevertheless, recent rumors were that the great Abbey of Brondel's business had receded, though the only ones to suffer during such recessions were the commoners—the nobility only grew more confident.
"And the bones we seek are in this nasty place?" Holo lowered her voice, given the topic.
Lawrence nodded vaguely—though he had received the information from Eve, he was none too confident in it.
"There's a good chance of that, but in any case they'll be hidden away behind the great walls of the abbey. They say God himself doesn't know what happens within them."
"I once heard a sermon that said nothing can be truly hidden."
"Your feelings show up well enough in your ears and tail, it's true."

Output:
Lawrence gently pulled back the blanket Col was wrapped in and saw that the boy had fallen asleep. If he stayed asleep, he would not have to fear the rocking of the boat, nor worry about getting seasick.
He replaced the blanket carefully and saw Holo retreating back within her own blanket, having leaned out of it to peer at Col—evidently she was concerned about him, too.
"Wake me once we've arrived."
In response to her muffled words, Lawrence patted her hunched-over back lightly, which made the blanket rise, then fall. Taking this as a satisfied sigh, Lawrence smiled, leaving his hand on her back.
The ship's progress continued uneventfully, and it arrived as planned in the Winfiel kingdom's port town of Jiik.
When they had launched, they sky had been a leaden gray, but as they descended from the ship's deck to the docks, it was dyed a deep red, and Col—who had ended up sleeping the rest of the journey—squinted his eyes at the brightness of it.
A port in winter could often make one think of a summer sunset. Perhaps this was thanks to it being a place where the activity level rose with the temperature, a place that had now grown quiet. It felt languid, suffused with melancholy. And yet it felt too quiet, perhaps because of the cold.
The kingdom of Winfiel was the very image of a northern country, as the winter snows closed much of the land off.
As the sun set, the port air grew shockingly cold, and looking around, Lawrence could see piles of snow at the corners of buildings and the edges of the streets.
Col had only a tattered pair of straw sandals, and he shuffled his feet rapidly, as though unable to keep them still for even a moment.
"Come, you, if we don't find an inn soon, we'll all freeze on the spot," said Holo. She, too, had slept most of the journey away, curled up in a blanket, and having just awoken evidently found the chill intolerable.
"Didn't it snow often in your homelands? Have a little endurance."
"You fool—should I cover myself in fur right here, then?" said Holo, wrapping her arms around Col from behind.
Lawrence only cocked his head by way of response and then produced the letter of introduction he had gotten from Kieman and looked it over.
"'See Mr. Deutchmann of the Tyler Company,' eh?"
On the letter was a careful drawing of the Tyler Company's seal, and Lawrence began walking, letter in hand. The docks were full of well-known companies, some of them with names that nearly anyone would have known.
Despite the Winfiel winters being very snowy, the other seasons were quite mild with plenty of rain, and the fertile, grassy plains stretched on and on. Any livestock raised there, be they horses or cattle, grew healthy and strong in such conditions—but the sheep were particularly famous.
It was often said of the kingdom that it grew more wool than grass, and it exported more wool than anywhere else in the world.
The loading docks of the trading companies along the port were piled high with bundles of wool bags, and dangling from each company's eaves was a sign sporting the ram's horn mark that was proof the merchant had the monarchy's permission to deal in wool.
The Tyler Company was at the end of a row of shops, and its facade was of the highest quality. The sun had set, and candlelight from within the building seeped out, which was the best sign of a successful business.
Lawrence knocked on the wooden door, which soon opened.
No matter the town or port, merchants and craftsmen were always very particular about their hours of business.
"And who are you?"
"My deepest apologies for the late hour. I'm hoping to see Mr. Deutchmann of the Tyler Company."
"Deutchmann? And you are—?"
"Kraft Lawrence of the Rowen Trade Guild. I come by Lud Kieman of Kerube," said Lawrence, offering the letter of introduction.


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

Input:
Lawrence gently pulled back the blanket Col was wrapped in and saw that the boy had fallen asleep. If he stayed asleep, he would not have to fear the rocking of the boat, nor worry about getting seasick.
He replaced the blanket carefully and saw Holo retreating back within her own blanket, having leaned out of it to peer at Col—evidently she was concerned about him, too.
"Wake me once we've arrived."
In response to her muffled words, Lawrence patted her hunched-over back lightly, which made the blanket rise, then fall. Taking this as a satisfied sigh, Lawrence smiled, leaving his hand on her back.
The ship's progress continued uneventfully, and it arrived as planned in the Winfiel kingdom's port town of Jiik.
When they had launched, they sky had been a leaden gray, but as they descended from the ship's deck to the docks, it was dyed a deep red, and Col—who had ended up sleeping the rest of the journey—squinted his eyes at the brightness of it.
A port in winter could often make one think of a summer sunset. Perhaps this was thanks to it being a place where the activity level rose with the temperature, a place that had now grown quiet. It felt languid, suffused with melancholy. And yet it felt too quiet, perhaps because of the cold.
The kingdom of Winfiel was the very image of a northern country, as the winter snows closed much of the land off.
As the sun set, the port air grew shockingly cold, and looking around, Lawrence could see piles of snow at the corners of buildings and the edges of the streets.
Col had only a tattered pair of straw sandals, and he shuffled his feet rapidly, as though unable to keep them still for even a moment.
"Come, you, if we don't find an inn soon, we'll all freeze on the spot," said Holo. She, too, had slept most of the journey away, curled up in a blanket, and having just awoken evidently found the chill intolerable.
"Didn't it snow often in your homelands? Have a little endurance."
"You fool—should I cover myself in fur right here, then?" said Holo, wrapping her arms around Col from behind.
Lawrence only cocked his head by way of response and then produced the letter of introduction he had gotten from Kieman and looked it over.
"'See Mr. Deutchmann of the Tyler Company,' eh?"
On the letter was a careful drawing of the Tyler Company's seal, and Lawrence began walking, letter in hand. The docks were full of well-known companies, some of them with names that nearly anyone would have known.
Despite the Winfiel winters being very snowy, the other seasons were quite mild with plenty of rain, and the fertile, grassy plains stretched on and on. Any livestock raised there, be they horses or cattle, grew healthy and strong in such conditions—but the sheep were particularly famous.
It was often said of the kingdom that it grew more wool than grass, and it exported more wool than anywhere else in the world.
The loading docks of the trading companies along the port were piled high with bundles of wool bags, and dangling from each company's eaves was a sign sporting the ram's horn mark that was proof the merchant had the monarchy's permission to deal in wool.
The Tyler Company was at the end of a row of shops, and its facade was of the highest quality. The sun had set, and candlelight from within the building seeped out, which was the best sign of a successful business.
Lawrence knocked on the wooden door, which soon opened.
No matter the town or port, merchants and craftsmen were always very particular about their hours of business.
"And who are you?"
"My deepest apologies for the late hour. I'm hoping to see Mr. Deutchmann of the Tyler Company."
"Deutchmann? And you are—?"
"Kraft Lawrence of the Rowen Trade Guild. I come by Lud Kieman of Kerube," said Lawrence, offering the letter of introduction.

Output:
The door was still open a crack, and warm air trickled out of it. Additionally, perhaps since they had arrived just at the end of the workday, that warm air carried the scent of honeyed sheep or cow's milk. Even Lawrence found the smell tantalizing, and to Holo's sensitive nose, it seemed nigh unbearable. Her stomach growled audibly.
Just then, the merchant returned and opened the door. The stomach growl had been quite loud, so he might well have heard it.
"My apologies for keeping you waiting. Please do come in, Mr. Lawrence."
"Ah, thank you." Lawrence gave the man a small bow and went inside, followed by Holo and Col.
The merchant closed the door, then walked ahead of them, saying, "This way, please."
Immediately inside the trading house was a space for negotiation, with several desks and tables made ready. All the furnishings were very finely decorated, and the walls were adorned with banners bearing the face of the ruler of the kingdom. It seemed more like a noble manor than a trading company.
A few of the company's merchants sat around a table playing cards. While the people of Winfiel loved to gamble, they were generally not vulgar about it and played with refinement and grace.
Rather than heckling and hooting with a drink in one hand, they preferred warm drinks and elegant pastimes, which only added to the air of gentility.
Lawrence took in the trading company's interior as the merchant led them to the second floor. "Was the sea very rough?" the merchant asked.
"Not at all. Perhaps God blessed our journey, as it was an easy one."
"I'm happy to hear it. Not long ago I heard it was very rough indeed somewhat north of here. Normally the current flows south to north, but it was so bad the flow reversed itself."
When the seas were rough in the offing, all sorts of fish could be caught nearer the shore. Perhaps that was to thank for the catching of the narwhal near Kerube.
"The seas in this area are not usually so rough, but once roused they can be quite persistent. Normally when the snow falls, it's as still as a pond."
"I see. Perhaps that's why so many of the people here are so gentle and refined."
"Ha-ha-ha! We're just a bunch of choleric opportunists, that's all."
All who made trade their business would meet people from every land in the inns and taverns. While everyone had their own unique personality and outlook, each region had its characteristics, and the people of Winfiel were gentle and refined. But just as their guide had so skillfully put it, they could also be described as choleric and opportunistic.
Lawrence wondered if Holo were to spend a few years here, would she grow calmer and more obedient, just like the sheep? But if she turned choleric, it would make her disposition even worse.
He glanced at Holo, and she returned his look with a quizzically cocked head.
"This way," said the merchant, knocking at a door, then opening it without waiting for a reply. "Do come in."
As they were led inside, Lawrence felt a hint of surprise color his face.
Holo's eyes opened wide, and Col made a small sound of surprise.
The room into which they had been led had walls that were covered floor to ceiling in shelves, within which were stored all manner of threads, woven cloth, wool, and looms for spinning it.
But what drew the eye more than anything else was the sheep skulls.
Illuminated by the candlelight, their hollow eyes silently watched the intruders entering their realm—there had to be at least twenty of them, some narrow-jawed, some wide, some with great horns and some with small.
A sudden sound brought Lawrence back to himself. A man sitting and writing at a desk in the corner of the room had gotten to his feet.
If this had been a business negotiation, being distracted by the room's decor would have certainly cost Lawrence credibility, and the room's owner surely was trying to accomplish exactly that.
He smiled a very satisfied smile.


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

Input:
The door was still open a crack, and warm air trickled out of it. Additionally, perhaps since they had arrived just at the end of the workday, that warm air carried the scent of honeyed sheep or cow's milk. Even Lawrence found the smell tantalizing, and to Holo's sensitive nose, it seemed nigh unbearable. Her stomach growled audibly.
Just then, the merchant returned and opened the door. The stomach growl had been quite loud, so he might well have heard it.
"My apologies for keeping you waiting. Please do come in, Mr. Lawrence."
"Ah, thank you." Lawrence gave the man a small bow and went inside, followed by Holo and Col.
The merchant closed the door, then walked ahead of them, saying, "This way, please."
Immediately inside the trading house was a space for negotiation, with several desks and tables made ready. All the furnishings were very finely decorated, and the walls were adorned with banners bearing the face of the ruler of the kingdom. It seemed more like a noble manor than a trading company.
A few of the company's merchants sat around a table playing cards. While the people of Winfiel loved to gamble, they were generally not vulgar about it and played with refinement and grace.
Rather than heckling and hooting with a drink in one hand, they preferred warm drinks and elegant pastimes, which only added to the air of gentility.
Lawrence took in the trading company's interior as the merchant led them to the second floor. "Was the sea very rough?" the merchant asked.
"Not at all. Perhaps God blessed our journey, as it was an easy one."
"I'm happy to hear it. Not long ago I heard it was very rough indeed somewhat north of here. Normally the current flows south to north, but it was so bad the flow reversed itself."
When the seas were rough in the offing, all sorts of fish could be caught nearer the shore. Perhaps that was to thank for the catching of the narwhal near Kerube.
"The seas in this area are not usually so rough, but once roused they can be quite persistent. Normally when the snow falls, it's as still as a pond."
"I see. Perhaps that's why so many of the people here are so gentle and refined."
"Ha-ha-ha! We're just a bunch of choleric opportunists, that's all."
All who made trade their business would meet people from every land in the inns and taverns. While everyone had their own unique personality and outlook, each region had its characteristics, and the people of Winfiel were gentle and refined. But just as their guide had so skillfully put it, they could also be described as choleric and opportunistic.
Lawrence wondered if Holo were to spend a few years here, would she grow calmer and more obedient, just like the sheep? But if she turned choleric, it would make her disposition even worse.
He glanced at Holo, and she returned his look with a quizzically cocked head.
"This way," said the merchant, knocking at a door, then opening it without waiting for a reply. "Do come in."
As they were led inside, Lawrence felt a hint of surprise color his face.
Holo's eyes opened wide, and Col made a small sound of surprise.
The room into which they had been led had walls that were covered floor to ceiling in shelves, within which were stored all manner of threads, woven cloth, wool, and looms for spinning it.
But what drew the eye more than anything else was the sheep skulls.
Illuminated by the candlelight, their hollow eyes silently watched the intruders entering their realm—there had to be at least twenty of them, some narrow-jawed, some wide, some with great horns and some with small.
A sudden sound brought Lawrence back to himself. A man sitting and writing at a desk in the corner of the room had gotten to his feet.
If this had been a business negotiation, being distracted by the room's decor would have certainly cost Lawrence credibility, and the room's owner surely was trying to accomplish exactly that.
He smiled a very satisfied smile.

Output:
The mustached man seemed in the prime of his life, and when he smiled, his eyes nearly disappeared into the creases around them. When Lawrence shook his hand, his palm was a thick-skinned one. He was certainly gracious, but that was the only expression—not many people could hide the rest of their intent so thoroughly.
Lawrence found himself deeply relieved that he was not attempting a business negotiation with this man. No matter how skilled he became, there would be some opponents he would always find difficult.
"I am Amn Deutchmann, and I'm in charge of wool trading at this company."
"My most humble apologies for the sudden visit. I am Kraft Lawrence of the Rowen Trade Guild."
"Well, do sit down."
"Thank you."
The standard pleasantries concluded, Lawrence, Holo, and Col all sat down on the couch, and across from them sat Deutchmann. A low table separated them.
The merchant who had led them inside gave a short bow, then left the room.
"Now, then, I must say I could scarcely hide my surprise at seeing Mr. Kieman's name come up—he was once called 'the Eye of Kerube.' To say nothing of the name Bolan. I must wonder just what sort of terrifying deal I'm going to be asked to swallow here!"
It was very Winfiel-like of him to make jokes that elicited wry grins all around. Lawrence took the cue and scratched his nose as though making an excuse. "A king only gives thanks to his subjects during wartime. In such times, even a cup of water can seem like a gift of fine furs."
"Oh ho. So there's some sort of disturbance in Kerube, is there?"
"I'm sure you'll hear of it shortly. I'd be perfectly happy to tell you about it myself, though I'm not certain you would believe me."
Surprisingly enough, the words seemed to rouse Deutchmann's interest. His shoulders shook with mirth. "Miracles do happen in business!" He continued, "Now, then, about this letter of yours."
"Yes, sir."
"You say you wish to visit the great Brondel Abbey?"
"Yes. I was hoping for help in visiting them for a reason other than buying wool."
"Oh ho."
Traveling merchants wore beards, but the town merchants of Winfiel seemed to favor mustaches. Deutchmann fingered his magnificent mustache, twisting it as he regarded Lawrence.
"I believe that pilgrims to the abbey are only received at a building separate from the central complex and aren't allowed to approach the abbey itself."
"That is true. Even among those connected to the abbey, only a few are allowed entry. As you may well know, even wool trading is done at a specially designated branch. So..."
"It's no easy task to knock on the doors of the main abbey."
"Indeed, it is not, Mr. Lawrence. Of course, the mercantile branch is the main abbey's lifeline, so it does have some connection...but...surely you're not suggesting..."
Lawrence knew perfectly well what the canny merchant's narrowed eyes were seeing.
The signature of Bolan.
If they had come neither as pilgrims to the famous Brondel Abbey, nor as traders seeking wool, the remaining possibilities were few indeed.
And nearly any merchant with a sizable enough business would recognize Eve's name, the name of a fallen noble family of Winfiel—and there was only one reason for it to come up.
"I am not a political agent. Please rest assured."
But a merchant's words were never trustworthy. It was hardly surprising that Deutchmann's gaze came out from his narrowed eyes needle sharp. The Tyler Company's wool buyer looked back and forth between the introduction letter and Lawrence's face and then finally glanced at Holo and Col.
If Lawrence had been alone, he would have been politely shown the door.
But with two traveling companions, it was unlikely that he was anybody's secret messenger, Deutchmann eventually seemed to conclude.
"My apologies if I've made you uncomfortable."
"Hardly. It's only natural you'd be suspicious, I should think."
"Thank you very much. But this is precisely the sort of problem that Brondel Abbey is facing at the moment."


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

Input:
The mustached man seemed in the prime of his life, and when he smiled, his eyes nearly disappeared into the creases around them. When Lawrence shook his hand, his palm was a thick-skinned one. He was certainly gracious, but that was the only expression—not many people could hide the rest of their intent so thoroughly.
Lawrence found himself deeply relieved that he was not attempting a business negotiation with this man. No matter how skilled he became, there would be some opponents he would always find difficult.
"I am Amn Deutchmann, and I'm in charge of wool trading at this company."
"My most humble apologies for the sudden visit. I am Kraft Lawrence of the Rowen Trade Guild."
"Well, do sit down."
"Thank you."
The standard pleasantries concluded, Lawrence, Holo, and Col all sat down on the couch, and across from them sat Deutchmann. A low table separated them.
The merchant who had led them inside gave a short bow, then left the room.
"Now, then, I must say I could scarcely hide my surprise at seeing Mr. Kieman's name come up—he was once called 'the Eye of Kerube.' To say nothing of the name Bolan. I must wonder just what sort of terrifying deal I'm going to be asked to swallow here!"
It was very Winfiel-like of him to make jokes that elicited wry grins all around. Lawrence took the cue and scratched his nose as though making an excuse. "A king only gives thanks to his subjects during wartime. In such times, even a cup of water can seem like a gift of fine furs."
"Oh ho. So there's some sort of disturbance in Kerube, is there?"
"I'm sure you'll hear of it shortly. I'd be perfectly happy to tell you about it myself, though I'm not certain you would believe me."
Surprisingly enough, the words seemed to rouse Deutchmann's interest. His shoulders shook with mirth. "Miracles do happen in business!" He continued, "Now, then, about this letter of yours."
"Yes, sir."
"You say you wish to visit the great Brondel Abbey?"
"Yes. I was hoping for help in visiting them for a reason other than buying wool."
"Oh ho."
Traveling merchants wore beards, but the town merchants of Winfiel seemed to favor mustaches. Deutchmann fingered his magnificent mustache, twisting it as he regarded Lawrence.
"I believe that pilgrims to the abbey are only received at a building separate from the central complex and aren't allowed to approach the abbey itself."
"That is true. Even among those connected to the abbey, only a few are allowed entry. As you may well know, even wool trading is done at a specially designated branch. So..."
"It's no easy task to knock on the doors of the main abbey."
"Indeed, it is not, Mr. Lawrence. Of course, the mercantile branch is the main abbey's lifeline, so it does have some connection...but...surely you're not suggesting..."
Lawrence knew perfectly well what the canny merchant's narrowed eyes were seeing.
The signature of Bolan.
If they had come neither as pilgrims to the famous Brondel Abbey, nor as traders seeking wool, the remaining possibilities were few indeed.
And nearly any merchant with a sizable enough business would recognize Eve's name, the name of a fallen noble family of Winfiel—and there was only one reason for it to come up.
"I am not a political agent. Please rest assured."
But a merchant's words were never trustworthy. It was hardly surprising that Deutchmann's gaze came out from his narrowed eyes needle sharp. The Tyler Company's wool buyer looked back and forth between the introduction letter and Lawrence's face and then finally glanced at Holo and Col.
If Lawrence had been alone, he would have been politely shown the door.
But with two traveling companions, it was unlikely that he was anybody's secret messenger, Deutchmann eventually seemed to conclude.
"My apologies if I've made you uncomfortable."
"Hardly. It's only natural you'd be suspicious, I should think."
"Thank you very much. But this is precisely the sort of problem that Brondel Abbey is facing at the moment."

Output:
It bore the same thing the men downstairs were drinking as they played cards, Lawrence supposed. The cups steamed warmly, but not too warmly to comfortably hold—evidently the hosts were considerate enough to provide their visitors with something to chase off the cold.
"Please, drink. It's sheep's milk with honey and ginger. This time of year, kings and commoners alike drink it. It'll warm you."
"Well, thank you."
The milk was still bubbling, and Lawrence was worried his teeth would melt if he drank it. He didn't mind sweet things, but there was a limit.
If he just took a sip for politeness's sake, it seemed likely that Holo would take advantage of the opportunity and drink down the rest.
"So, about what I was saying."
"Yes, quite."
"Mr. Lawrence, did anything in particular strike you when you saw the port today?"
Changing the subject and asking a sudden pointed question was a good way to determine someone's true motives. As such, Lawrence didn't stop to think and simply answered his mind.
"Out of what I supposed was a combination of the chill and the hour, it seemed a bit desolate."
"Yes, you're quite right. Business has been bad recently—and I'm not saying that just to make merchant small talk. It's the truth."
"...You'll have to forgive me, but as a traveling merchant from the mainland, I'm not terribly familiar with the circumstances here."
"I see. Not even of King Sufon's ban?"
"Embarrassingly, no."
Traveling merchants like Lawrence needed a grasp of any proclamations that affected business in the lands they traveled. But unlike traveling merchants who could flee to the hinterlands if things went poorly, a trading company needed a port in order to unload its goods, and to them, such proclamations were like the word of God.
"To put it plainly, imports have been banned. Exports are fine. But wheat and wine are the only imports allowed. The goal is—"
"—to stop the loss of currency, I assume."
"You assume correctly. King Sufon has been on the throne for five years, and his greatest goal is to make his nation wealthy. But wool sales have steadily dropped—the last few years have been truly awful. And given that Winfiel has little else it can export abroad, it only stands to reason that the more our imports exceed our exports, the poorer our nation becomes. Which is why the king, who has no experience with business, came up with that solution."
Deutchmann raised both his hands in a gesture of resignation. If his frustration was any indication, no doubt the ban was deeply unpopular in the town.
"No merchant will trouble himself to come here once he learns he won't be allowed to sell his goods. The number of ships in the harbor has dropped, and the inns are all empty. The taverns sell no wine, nor meat, nor do travelers buy any blankets or mantles. Stables are on the verge of ruin just feeding their horses, and the money changers have nothing to weigh save the dust on their scales."
"It's a vicious cycle."
"Exactly. A king who knows how to swing a sword is at a loss when it comes to applying his mind. Given the situation, it's no surprise conditions are so bad. Currency vanished from the town in the blink of an eye, and now look—here we are."
As he spoke, Deutchmann produced a coin with a practiced motion.
The Winfiel kingdom had been founded after ages of conflict with the kings of nearby islands and struggle with the pirates of the northern seas. Sufon was the third in the line, and his profile was embossed on this coin, though this one was so blackened its details could barely be discerned.


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

Input:
It bore the same thing the men downstairs were drinking as they played cards, Lawrence supposed. The cups steamed warmly, but not too warmly to comfortably hold—evidently the hosts were considerate enough to provide their visitors with something to chase off the cold.
"Please, drink. It's sheep's milk with honey and ginger. This time of year, kings and commoners alike drink it. It'll warm you."
"Well, thank you."
The milk was still bubbling, and Lawrence was worried his teeth would melt if he drank it. He didn't mind sweet things, but there was a limit.
If he just took a sip for politeness's sake, it seemed likely that Holo would take advantage of the opportunity and drink down the rest.
"So, about what I was saying."
"Yes, quite."
"Mr. Lawrence, did anything in particular strike you when you saw the port today?"
Changing the subject and asking a sudden pointed question was a good way to determine someone's true motives. As such, Lawrence didn't stop to think and simply answered his mind.
"Out of what I supposed was a combination of the chill and the hour, it seemed a bit desolate."
"Yes, you're quite right. Business has been bad recently—and I'm not saying that just to make merchant small talk. It's the truth."
"...You'll have to forgive me, but as a traveling merchant from the mainland, I'm not terribly familiar with the circumstances here."
"I see. Not even of King Sufon's ban?"
"Embarrassingly, no."
Traveling merchants like Lawrence needed a grasp of any proclamations that affected business in the lands they traveled. But unlike traveling merchants who could flee to the hinterlands if things went poorly, a trading company needed a port in order to unload its goods, and to them, such proclamations were like the word of God.
"To put it plainly, imports have been banned. Exports are fine. But wheat and wine are the only imports allowed. The goal is—"
"—to stop the loss of currency, I assume."
"You assume correctly. King Sufon has been on the throne for five years, and his greatest goal is to make his nation wealthy. But wool sales have steadily dropped—the last few years have been truly awful. And given that Winfiel has little else it can export abroad, it only stands to reason that the more our imports exceed our exports, the poorer our nation becomes. Which is why the king, who has no experience with business, came up with that solution."
Deutchmann raised both his hands in a gesture of resignation. If his frustration was any indication, no doubt the ban was deeply unpopular in the town.
"No merchant will trouble himself to come here once he learns he won't be allowed to sell his goods. The number of ships in the harbor has dropped, and the inns are all empty. The taverns sell no wine, nor meat, nor do travelers buy any blankets or mantles. Stables are on the verge of ruin just feeding their horses, and the money changers have nothing to weigh save the dust on their scales."
"It's a vicious cycle."
"Exactly. A king who knows how to swing a sword is at a loss when it comes to applying his mind. Given the situation, it's no surprise conditions are so bad. Currency vanished from the town in the blink of an eye, and now look—here we are."
As he spoke, Deutchmann produced a coin with a practiced motion.
The Winfiel kingdom had been founded after ages of conflict with the kings of nearby islands and struggle with the pirates of the northern seas. Sufon was the third in the line, and his profile was embossed on this coin, though this one was so blackened its details could barely be discerned.

Output:
Holo and Col peered at the coin on the table, but straightened when they saw that Deutchmann was continuing.
"And so now merchants have started appearing with an eye toward taking advantage of the situation."
Business was nothing more than a tug-of-war. By pulling on each thread one found, it was easy to see where they led. The economy was poor and the currency so corrupted that it could not even buy bread, so what then? A nation's economy was not some secret ritual held behind stone walls, so surely its coin would be compared to the coins of other lands.
So what would happen then, once Winfiel's currency alone was inferior and devalued? Just as a weakened deer would be devoured by wolves, fortunes whose value was measured with a weakened coin would be devoured by stronger monies.
"You speak of those who come not to buy goods, but assets."
"Exactly so. Just like sharks attacking a wounded fish. So you see why I was worried you were such a man."
"I see. It does seem likely that Brondel Abbey will become a target. It possesses reputation, influence, and assets aplenty."
"Indeed."
"Incidentally, just who is acting as the shark?"
At this question, Deutchmann bared his canine teeth with a vulgar grin that would not have been out of place in a seedy tavern somewhere. "The crest of the moon and shield."
***
"Even so. The Ruvik Alliance, whose home territory is the whole of the northlands. It is they who play the shark."
It was the single most powerful economic alliance in the world, whose many large warships flew a beautiful green flag bearing a crest with a moon and a shield and with whom no less than eighteen regions and twenty-three craft guilds cooperated. It was backed by thirty noblemen and led by ten great trading companies.
One might joke that at their meeting table, they might decide whom to place on the throne of a given nation, but such a joke could not be easily laughed off.
When targeted by such an organization, ordinary tactics were all but useless.
"Naturally we're all too terrified to do anything, so we've been reduced to mere bystanders. And they're following the rules. They haven't interfered with the wool trade."
"I suppose their goal is the land held by the abbey."
"Yes. My guess is they're trying to acquire the abbey's territory, buying out the gentry's holdings in order to put pressure on the monarchy—and the gentry are already suffering from increased taxation and decreased revenue. Given their vast size, the alliance can hardly act in secret, which in turn motivates them to move forward."
Lawrence imagined the gentry believing that once this was all over, King Sufon would be reduced to a figurehead.
And once that happened, it would be like an avalanche.
Lawrence looked aside to Holo. They seemed to encounter interesting situations no matter where they went.
"Still, the abbey has been surprisingly stubborn, so the negotiations have run aground. Apparently within the alliance, the various trading companies are each frantically trying to be the first to complete a deal. So, well..."
Deutchmann dropped his gaze again to the letter of introduction, stroking his mustache and cocking his head slightly.
"If you feel it's worthwhile to risk the danger of venturing into such a lair, Mr. Lawrence, I suppose I can introduce you to one of the hydra's heads, but..." Then the choleric, opportunistic merchant of the kingdom of Winfiel smiled faintly. "On one condition: You never spoke with our company."
Lawrence could not immediately reply, but not because he was worried he would change his mind given further time to consider things.
It was because the more interesting the situation, the harder it was to believe that the surrounding merchants would remain uninvolved third parties. When such a fascinating spectacle was to be had, one wanted to see it close up.


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

Input:
Holo and Col peered at the coin on the table, but straightened when they saw that Deutchmann was continuing.
"And so now merchants have started appearing with an eye toward taking advantage of the situation."
Business was nothing more than a tug-of-war. By pulling on each thread one found, it was easy to see where they led. The economy was poor and the currency so corrupted that it could not even buy bread, so what then? A nation's economy was not some secret ritual held behind stone walls, so surely its coin would be compared to the coins of other lands.
So what would happen then, once Winfiel's currency alone was inferior and devalued? Just as a weakened deer would be devoured by wolves, fortunes whose value was measured with a weakened coin would be devoured by stronger monies.
"You speak of those who come not to buy goods, but assets."
"Exactly so. Just like sharks attacking a wounded fish. So you see why I was worried you were such a man."
"I see. It does seem likely that Brondel Abbey will become a target. It possesses reputation, influence, and assets aplenty."
"Indeed."
"Incidentally, just who is acting as the shark?"
At this question, Deutchmann bared his canine teeth with a vulgar grin that would not have been out of place in a seedy tavern somewhere. "The crest of the moon and shield."
***
"Even so. The Ruvik Alliance, whose home territory is the whole of the northlands. It is they who play the shark."
It was the single most powerful economic alliance in the world, whose many large warships flew a beautiful green flag bearing a crest with a moon and a shield and with whom no less than eighteen regions and twenty-three craft guilds cooperated. It was backed by thirty noblemen and led by ten great trading companies.
One might joke that at their meeting table, they might decide whom to place on the throne of a given nation, but such a joke could not be easily laughed off.
When targeted by such an organization, ordinary tactics were all but useless.
"Naturally we're all too terrified to do anything, so we've been reduced to mere bystanders. And they're following the rules. They haven't interfered with the wool trade."
"I suppose their goal is the land held by the abbey."
"Yes. My guess is they're trying to acquire the abbey's territory, buying out the gentry's holdings in order to put pressure on the monarchy—and the gentry are already suffering from increased taxation and decreased revenue. Given their vast size, the alliance can hardly act in secret, which in turn motivates them to move forward."
Lawrence imagined the gentry believing that once this was all over, King Sufon would be reduced to a figurehead.
And once that happened, it would be like an avalanche.
Lawrence looked aside to Holo. They seemed to encounter interesting situations no matter where they went.
"Still, the abbey has been surprisingly stubborn, so the negotiations have run aground. Apparently within the alliance, the various trading companies are each frantically trying to be the first to complete a deal. So, well..."
Deutchmann dropped his gaze again to the letter of introduction, stroking his mustache and cocking his head slightly.
"If you feel it's worthwhile to risk the danger of venturing into such a lair, Mr. Lawrence, I suppose I can introduce you to one of the hydra's heads, but..." Then the choleric, opportunistic merchant of the kingdom of Winfiel smiled faintly. "On one condition: You never spoke with our company."
Lawrence could not immediately reply, but not because he was worried he would change his mind given further time to consider things.
It was because the more interesting the situation, the harder it was to believe that the surrounding merchants would remain uninvolved third parties. When such a fascinating spectacle was to be had, one wanted to see it close up.

Output:
He considered this, and without even looking to Holo, he answered, "If you please, then."
Deutchmann smiled.
Thump went the sack of wool as it hit the ground, no doubt soon to be taken to a ship and then sent to some far-off land—or so Lawrence would have easily believed had someone said so.
Within the flat, hemp-stitched burlap sack was a large bundle of woolen quilts, each one far warmer than ten rough, chilly traveling blankets. Sleeping under just a single one of them would make one sweat.
Three such quilts had been brought back to the room.
"This...mmph. Are you quite sure this is all right?" asked Holo, despite having insisted on the finest room in the inn and tossing piece after piece of firewood into the fireplace in order to dry her hair after having washed it clean of salt-sea smell.
Evidently even Holo, who constantly hounded Lawrence to avoid stinginess and stay at fine inns, had some sort of financial sense.
They had never stayed at an inn such as this one, and it was enough to inspire even Holo to express concern.
"There hasn't been a guest in this inn for ten days, and it's been four weeks since any occupied this room, and during this season, guests are even fewer. A single ryut was enough to get us the room and firewood with change left over. Of course..." Lawrence pointed at the tarnished coins lined up on the table. "...It's rather doubtful whether we can buy anything with coins such as those."
"Hmph. So you took advantage of their weakness, did you?"
"That's not a very nice way to put it. When demand for something is low, its price will drop."
"Well, so long as you didn't let this room for the sake of your own vanity, 'tis well. Come, Col—take that there."
Holo busily began making up the bed, teasing Col as he timidly took hold of the fluffy wool quilt.
As he watched all this with a wry smile, Lawrence's thoughts were elsewhere.
He was thinking about what Deutchmann had told him about the crisis facing this nation and the Ruvik Alliance's attempt to take advantage of it.
It was said that it was ever the fate of the weak to be eaten by the strong. But what Lawrence found surprising was that even the storied Brondel Abbey could fall victim to that same fate. Even given that the Church's influence was beginning to wane, Lawrence still had the feeling that it had reserves of power that had yet to decline. Particularly just after he had met Holo, it was none other than the Church that had been responsible for her being taken hostage and the mad events that followed.
Of course, Lawrence was not inclined to either cheer or blame one party or the other. Humans, too, ate sheep and were in turn attacked by wolves.
As he mused on such things, Holo shot him a glance.
"That face of yours—I see you're planning something no good again."
Thanks to the fireplace and the sturdily constructed windows, the room had gotten quite warm. Though Holo had taken off her robe, she was still a bit sweaty, probably more from playing with Col than from the room's temperature. Col sat on the bed drinking water from a jug, hunched over in a posture of exhaustion.
Perhaps the scent of wool had gotten her excited.
"It's no good, that much is certain. I just found myself hoping the Church would endure forever."
Holo looked skeptical and sat on a chair, putting to her lips the water jug that was on the table.
Water jug though it might have been, it was filled with wine and was not made of ceramic, iron, or copper. It was instead carved from the shell of a coconut, a fruit from an island nation in the south whose trade must have been prosperous indeed.
"Ah, you mean the conversation from earlier."
"If it bothers you, I suppose I can transform back into a merchant happy to watch the ignominious fall of a once-strong enemy."
"...Fool." After a moment's hesitation, she stepped on Lawrence's foot.