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

Input:
"Pyrite?"
"Yes."
Batos's eyes were a dark blue that bordered on black. They looked gray in the faint yellow light of the lamp.
Those eyes looked evenly at Lawrence.
"Have you any leads?" Lawrence asked again.
Batos sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Mr. Lawrence, you—"
"Yes?"
"Do you remember what I said when I told you about what the young Amati was planning?"
Lawrence nodded immediately. Of course, he remembered. "Not only that, I remember that Miss Diana hates business discussions."
Batos took his hand from his eyes and then stopped, his gaze now for the first time what one would expect from a merchant.
It was the look of a man whose life was devoted to the safe transport of goods through incredible hardship, unconcerned about how much profit would be made.
Those eyes seemed somehow wolflike.
"So you're eyeing the alchemists' stock, are you?"
"That will make this conversation easy—yes. However, I've heard that without Miss Diana's permission, no business can be had. That is why I've come to you."
Lawrence suddenly remembered when he was just starting out as a merchant—with no connections, he would visit without notice and say whatever it took to increase his business.
Batos's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he forced them back to their usual expression. "Is pyrite so lucrative that knowing all this, you still wish to deal with them?"
"No, that is not it."
"Then...you want to know your fortune or ward away illness as pyrite is rumored to do?" Batos smiled indulgently, as though he were playing with a grandchild. It was his way of poking fun.
Lawrence was neither angry nor impatient.
If it was for his own gain, a merchant could stare at a swinging scale all night, if that's what it took. "I am acting in my own interest. That I will not deny."
Batos stared wide-eyed, unmoving.
If he was turned away here, his best chance of finding a stockpile of pyrite would be gone.
Lawrence did not have the luxury of allowing that to happen.
"But I'm not after it because I'm trying to gain from the pyrite bubble. My aim is more...more basic."
Batos did not interrupt him, and Lawrence took this as his cue to continue.
"Mr. Batos, you're a traveling merchant, so surely you've had times when the goods you're hauling fall into a crevasse."
Still silence.
"When our wagon sinks in a mire, we weigh the difficulty of saving it against abandoning it to the mud. The value of the goods, the gain, the amount of cash on hand, the cost of getting assistance—the danger of being attacked by brigands even—we weigh it all and decide to abandon the cargo or not to."
Batos spoke slowly. "And you've found yourself thus, have you?"
"I have."
Batos's keen eyes seemed as though they could see to the end of a dark road.
He'd traveled the same road for a lifetime and came to Diana to hear tales of the roads he hadn't taken.
Those eyes would surely see through any lie.
But Lawrence did not waver.
For he was telling no lies.
"I am determined not to abandon my load. So long as I can get it back on my cart, I am willing to risk a bit of trouble."
Batos had to realize what the "cargo" was and why Lawrence was so desperate.
But the old merchant just closed his eyes, saying nothing.
Was there something more to say? Lawrence wondered. Should he push further?
The laughter that echoed from the lobby sounded derisive and mocking.
Precious time was slipping away.
Lawrence readied himself to speak.
And at the last possible moment, he stopped himself.
He remembered his master telling him that waiting was the most powerful weapon when asking another's favor.
"That's what I wanted to see," said Batos at that moment with a little smile. "It's a good merchant that can wait, even if time is short, when that's the only option left to him."
Lawrence realized he had been tested; cold sweat ran down his back, making him shiver.
"Of course, I was even pushier back in the old days."
"Er..."
"Ah, yes. I've no supply of pyrite, sad to say. But surely the alchemists do."

Output:
Batos nodded slightly. "All you need say is 'I've come to buy a box of white feathers.' That should get you in the door. The rest is up to you. You'll have to be quite clever with dear Diana. I doubt anyone has gone to buy pyrite there yet."
"Thank you very much. By way of thanks—"
"As long as you'll tell me a good tale, I'll call it even. What do you think? Do I sound as dignified as Diana?"
Batos grinned childishly; Lawrence couldn't help but laugh.
Batos continued, "You never know when she's sleeping, Diana, so you should be able to go over there right now. And if you're going, you should go soon. Time is money and all." He pointed to the back of the trade guild. "If you take the back way, you can leave without answering any questions."
Lawrence thanked Batos and headed down the hall. He looked back to see the old merchant still smiling.
There with his back to the lamplight from the lobby, Batos looked a bit like his old master, Lawrence thought.
Leaving the guild house and heading north, Lawrence soon ran right into the stone wall.
He hadn't been lucky enough to arrive at the entrance, so he ran along the wall for a while until he found it, levering the rickety door open and slipping inside.
There were, of course, no lights, but as Lawrence ran, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and as a traveling merchant who camped on the road quite a bit, he was used to a bit of darkness.
However, the slivers of light that sliced out from between the cracks in the district's wooden doors, the meowing of cats in the distance, and the sudden occasional beating of birds' wings were all much more unsettling than they had been during the day.
Without the keen sense of direction common among traveling merchants, Lawrence might have become lost and wound up sprinting away in fear.
When he finally found Diana's house, his relief was genuine.
It was like he'd arrived at a friendly woodcutter's cabin after a long walk through an ominous forest.
But on the other side of the door, which Lawrence stood in front of, there was perhaps not a friend who'd welcome him with open arms.
Even though he'd gotten the password from Batos, when Lawrence thought back on his exchange with Diana, he felt she truly did hate business.
He wondered if he would really be able to buy any pyrite.
The uncertainty grew in his chest, but he took a deep breath and pushed it back down.
He had to obtain the mineral.
"Excuse me, is anyone home?" Lawrence asked hesitantly, knocking lightly on the door.
The silence of someone home but asleep is subtly different from the silence of no one being present.
When it is the former, it was somehow hard to raise one's voice.
There was no reaction from behind the door.
A bit of light shone through the cracks, though, so even if Diana might have been asleep, she seemed to be there.
The town leveled harsh punishments at those who left their lamps burning as they slept, but it was hard to imagine the evening patrols venturing into this district.
Just as Lawrence was about to knock on the door again, he heard someone move behind it.
"Who is it?" The voice sounded sleepy, weary.
"I apologize for disturbing you at this late hour. I am Lawrence; I visited you yesterday with Mr. Batos."
A short pause followed, after which he heard the rustling of fabric. Next, the door slowly opened.
Light poured out of the house, along with the air from within the room.
Diana's eyes were annoyed and sleepy.
She wore the same style of robe she'd had on when he visited her before. Being a former nun, she probably wore that style year-round, morning and night, making it impossible for Lawrence to tell from her dress whether he'd woken her.
In any case, it was extremely rude to visit a woman living alone in the middle of the night; Lawrence knew this but spoke without hesitation.
"I know it's very rude, but I had to come." He continued, "I wish to buy a box of white feathers."


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

Input:
Batos nodded slightly. "All you need say is 'I've come to buy a box of white feathers.' That should get you in the door. The rest is up to you. You'll have to be quite clever with dear Diana. I doubt anyone has gone to buy pyrite there yet."
"Thank you very much. By way of thanks—"
"As long as you'll tell me a good tale, I'll call it even. What do you think? Do I sound as dignified as Diana?"
Batos grinned childishly; Lawrence couldn't help but laugh.
Batos continued, "You never know when she's sleeping, Diana, so you should be able to go over there right now. And if you're going, you should go soon. Time is money and all." He pointed to the back of the trade guild. "If you take the back way, you can leave without answering any questions."
Lawrence thanked Batos and headed down the hall. He looked back to see the old merchant still smiling.
There with his back to the lamplight from the lobby, Batos looked a bit like his old master, Lawrence thought.
Leaving the guild house and heading north, Lawrence soon ran right into the stone wall.
He hadn't been lucky enough to arrive at the entrance, so he ran along the wall for a while until he found it, levering the rickety door open and slipping inside.
There were, of course, no lights, but as Lawrence ran, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and as a traveling merchant who camped on the road quite a bit, he was used to a bit of darkness.
However, the slivers of light that sliced out from between the cracks in the district's wooden doors, the meowing of cats in the distance, and the sudden occasional beating of birds' wings were all much more unsettling than they had been during the day.
Without the keen sense of direction common among traveling merchants, Lawrence might have become lost and wound up sprinting away in fear.
When he finally found Diana's house, his relief was genuine.
It was like he'd arrived at a friendly woodcutter's cabin after a long walk through an ominous forest.
But on the other side of the door, which Lawrence stood in front of, there was perhaps not a friend who'd welcome him with open arms.
Even though he'd gotten the password from Batos, when Lawrence thought back on his exchange with Diana, he felt she truly did hate business.
He wondered if he would really be able to buy any pyrite.
The uncertainty grew in his chest, but he took a deep breath and pushed it back down.
He had to obtain the mineral.
"Excuse me, is anyone home?" Lawrence asked hesitantly, knocking lightly on the door.
The silence of someone home but asleep is subtly different from the silence of no one being present.
When it is the former, it was somehow hard to raise one's voice.
There was no reaction from behind the door.
A bit of light shone through the cracks, though, so even if Diana might have been asleep, she seemed to be there.
The town leveled harsh punishments at those who left their lamps burning as they slept, but it was hard to imagine the evening patrols venturing into this district.
Just as Lawrence was about to knock on the door again, he heard someone move behind it.
"Who is it?" The voice sounded sleepy, weary.
"I apologize for disturbing you at this late hour. I am Lawrence; I visited you yesterday with Mr. Batos."
A short pause followed, after which he heard the rustling of fabric. Next, the door slowly opened.
Light poured out of the house, along with the air from within the room.
Diana's eyes were annoyed and sleepy.
She wore the same style of robe she'd had on when he visited her before. Being a former nun, she probably wore that style year-round, morning and night, making it impossible for Lawrence to tell from her dress whether he'd woken her.
In any case, it was extremely rude to visit a woman living alone in the middle of the night; Lawrence knew this but spoke without hesitation.
"I know it's very rude, but I had to come." He continued, "I wish to buy a box of white feathers."

Output:
The inside of her house—which was free from the stench of sulfur—seemed to be even more cluttered than it had been the previous day.
Even the room's sole trace of organization—the bookshelves—were a mess, with most of the books now off the shelves, left open with their pages staring up at the ceiling.
And there were even more white quill pens scattered about than before.
"My goodness, so many guests all on the same day. The festival really does bring people out," said Diana, mostly to herself. She sat—and as before, she did not offer Lawrence a chair.
Lawrence was about to sit anyway in one of the chairs not piled high with things, but then he realized something.
So many guests.
So people had come before Lawrence.
"I expect it was Mr. Batos that told you to ask for a box of white feathers?"
Lawrence was still worried about who had come calling here, but he shook his head to clear it. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry to say I forced the issue and made him tell me how to meet with you..."
"Goodness, really? I have a hard time imagining anyone forcing Batos to do anything," said Diana with an amused smile.
Lawrence had nothing to say to that.
Her personality was different, but something about Diana reminded Lawrence distinctly of Holo.
"So what business is it that's so pressing you managed to convince that stubborn old coot?"
There were any number of people who would desire the skills and products alchemists possessed for a variety of reasons.
Diana was a dam that held those desires in check.
Lawrence did not know why, but Diana—sitting in her chair and looking evenly at him—seemed somehow like a great bird, guarding her eggs with iron wings.
"I need to purchase pyrite," said Lawrence, despite being half-overwhelmed by Diana's mien.
Diana put one white hand to her cheek. "I hear the price has gotten quite high."
"That's not—"
"Of course, dear Mr. Batos would never have helped you over something as simple as mere profit. So there must be some other reason, no?"
He felt like Diana was always one step ahead of him. She was quicker than Lawrence and seemed fully willing to demonstrate that.
Mustn't get angry, Lawrence told himself. He was being tested.
He nodded. "It's not business. I need pyrite for a battle."
Diana's eyes narrowed as she smiled. "A battle with whom?"
"It's..."
He hesitated to mention Amati's name. It wasn't because he thought it would be inappropriate.
It was because he wondered whether Amati was his true opponent in this battle.
He shook his head. "No, it's—" Lawrence looked back to Diana. "It's against my cargo."
"Cargo?"
"A traveling merchant's enemy is always his cargo. Estimating its value, planning for its transport, deciding upon its destination. If he errs in even one of these, he will lose. At this very moment, I am trying to recover a piece that has fallen from my wagon. Having reevaluated the value, the transport, and the destination, I have realized that this is a piece of cargo I cannot afford to lose."
Diana's bangs fluttered in what seemed like the breeze—but no, it was her own breath as she exhaled.
She smiled softly and retrieved a quill pen that was at her feet.
"'Buying a box of white feathers' is nothing more than a glorified password. All it means is that I don't mind so long as I'm able to have a bit of fun. Does a bird not drop feathers when it beats its wings excitedly? Those people that I give my password to help me choose my visitors carefully, so all I need to do is glance at them to tell. I don't mind a bit as far as pyrite goes. Buy it up as you please."
Lawrence jumped to his feet. "Thank—"
"However," said Diana, cutting him off. Lawrence suddenly had a very bad feeling.
Several visitors in a single day. A chair with nothing piled on it.
It can't be—the black words floated up in Lawrence's mind.
Diana's face was now apologetic. "Someone has already come to buy."
It was just as he'd feared.
He immediately asked the questions any merchant would ask.


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

Input:
The inside of her house—which was free from the stench of sulfur—seemed to be even more cluttered than it had been the previous day.
Even the room's sole trace of organization—the bookshelves—were a mess, with most of the books now off the shelves, left open with their pages staring up at the ceiling.
And there were even more white quill pens scattered about than before.
"My goodness, so many guests all on the same day. The festival really does bring people out," said Diana, mostly to herself. She sat—and as before, she did not offer Lawrence a chair.
Lawrence was about to sit anyway in one of the chairs not piled high with things, but then he realized something.
So many guests.
So people had come before Lawrence.
"I expect it was Mr. Batos that told you to ask for a box of white feathers?"
Lawrence was still worried about who had come calling here, but he shook his head to clear it. "Ah, yes. I'm sorry to say I forced the issue and made him tell me how to meet with you..."
"Goodness, really? I have a hard time imagining anyone forcing Batos to do anything," said Diana with an amused smile.
Lawrence had nothing to say to that.
Her personality was different, but something about Diana reminded Lawrence distinctly of Holo.
"So what business is it that's so pressing you managed to convince that stubborn old coot?"
There were any number of people who would desire the skills and products alchemists possessed for a variety of reasons.
Diana was a dam that held those desires in check.
Lawrence did not know why, but Diana—sitting in her chair and looking evenly at him—seemed somehow like a great bird, guarding her eggs with iron wings.
"I need to purchase pyrite," said Lawrence, despite being half-overwhelmed by Diana's mien.
Diana put one white hand to her cheek. "I hear the price has gotten quite high."
"That's not—"
"Of course, dear Mr. Batos would never have helped you over something as simple as mere profit. So there must be some other reason, no?"
He felt like Diana was always one step ahead of him. She was quicker than Lawrence and seemed fully willing to demonstrate that.
Mustn't get angry, Lawrence told himself. He was being tested.
He nodded. "It's not business. I need pyrite for a battle."
Diana's eyes narrowed as she smiled. "A battle with whom?"
"It's..."
He hesitated to mention Amati's name. It wasn't because he thought it would be inappropriate.
It was because he wondered whether Amati was his true opponent in this battle.
He shook his head. "No, it's—" Lawrence looked back to Diana. "It's against my cargo."
"Cargo?"
"A traveling merchant's enemy is always his cargo. Estimating its value, planning for its transport, deciding upon its destination. If he errs in even one of these, he will lose. At this very moment, I am trying to recover a piece that has fallen from my wagon. Having reevaluated the value, the transport, and the destination, I have realized that this is a piece of cargo I cannot afford to lose."
Diana's bangs fluttered in what seemed like the breeze—but no, it was her own breath as she exhaled.
She smiled softly and retrieved a quill pen that was at her feet.
"'Buying a box of white feathers' is nothing more than a glorified password. All it means is that I don't mind so long as I'm able to have a bit of fun. Does a bird not drop feathers when it beats its wings excitedly? Those people that I give my password to help me choose my visitors carefully, so all I need to do is glance at them to tell. I don't mind a bit as far as pyrite goes. Buy it up as you please."
Lawrence jumped to his feet. "Thank—"
"However," said Diana, cutting him off. Lawrence suddenly had a very bad feeling.
Several visitors in a single day. A chair with nothing piled on it.
It can't be—the black words floated up in Lawrence's mind.
Diana's face was now apologetic. "Someone has already come to buy."
It was just as he'd feared.
He immediately asked the questions any merchant would ask.

Output:
"Do calm yourself. The customer in question bought on credit and did not leave with the pyrite. You could say they simply made an order. For my part, I wouldn't mind letting you have the material instead. Let us try to negotiate with the first party, shall we? As for the amount, I seem to recall it being sixteen thousand irehd worth at current market value."
That was four hundred trenni. If he could acquire that much, it would be a giant boon to his plans. "I understand. Might you tell me who the buyer was...?"
If Diana were to say it was Amati, Lawrence's hopes would be obliterated.
But she only shook her head slightly. "I will handle the negotiation. For safety's sake, we do not allow others to know the identity of those who have dealt with us alchemists."
"B-but—"
"You have an objection?" She smiled coldly.
Lawrence was the one asking the favor; he could only remain silent.
"You've said this is a battle, so I presume the circumstances are not ordinary. I will help all I can and let you know the results as soon as possible. Where will I be able to find you tomorrow?"
"Ah, er...the marketplace in front of the stone seller's booth. I'll be there the entire time the market is open. Otherwise, if you contact Mark the wheat seller, his stand is..."
"I know the place. I'll send a messenger as soon as I'm able."
"Thank you." Lawrence couldn't think of anything else to say.
Yet the fact was that depending on the results of Diana's negotiation, it was still possible that he would be unable to buy any pyrite. The consequences would be near fatal.
There was only so much he could say.
"I won't hesitate to pay a considerable sum. I can't pay double market value or anything like that, but please inform them I will be quite generous."
Diana smiled and nodded, standing up from her chair.
Lawrence realized it was time for him to take his leave. The fact that he hadn't been turned away after showing up uninvited at this ridiculous hour was enough of a miracle already.
"I do apologize for calling so suddenly at this hour."
"Not at all. Night and day are meaningless to me."
Somehow he knew she wasn't joking, and yet he laughed anyway.
"And so long as you've brought interesting stories, you could stay all night and I wouldn't mind a bit."
Her words could have been interpreted as seduction, but Lawrence knew she was just being sincere.
Unfortunately, he'd already told her the one interesting story he knew.
In its place, a question appeared unbidden in his mind.
"Is something wrong?" asked Diana.
Lawrence was stopped in his tracks by the thought that struck him.
Flustered, he claimed it was nothing before heading for the door.
The question was preposterous. He couldn't possibly ask it.
"Being so mysterious when you leave a woman's home—honestly, you'll be lucky if the gods don't punish you," said Diana girlishly. Her playful smile made him think that she really would answer whatever question he cared to ask.
And she was probably the only one who could.
He turned to speak even as he reached for the door.
"I...have a question."
"Ask whatever you like," she said without hesitating.
Lawrence cleared his throat. "Are there any stories of gods...and humans, that is...falling in love, becoming a pair?"
He knew he wouldn't be able to answer if Diana asked why he wanted to know this.
Yet despite the risks, Lawrence had to ask.
Holo had wept, saying if she had a child, she would no longer be alone.
If this was at all possible, he wanted to tell her and perhaps give her some small hope.
Diana was stunned for a moment by this question, but she soon regained her composure and answered in a slow and measured voice.
"There are many."
"Really?" said Lawrence in spite of himself.
"Yes, for example—ah, but I'm sorry. You were in a hurry."
"Ah, er, yes. But perhaps later...if you wouldn't mind, I would very much like to hear the details."
"Certainly."
Fortunately, she did not ask his reasons for wanting to know.


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

Input:
"Do calm yourself. The customer in question bought on credit and did not leave with the pyrite. You could say they simply made an order. For my part, I wouldn't mind letting you have the material instead. Let us try to negotiate with the first party, shall we? As for the amount, I seem to recall it being sixteen thousand irehd worth at current market value."
That was four hundred trenni. If he could acquire that much, it would be a giant boon to his plans. "I understand. Might you tell me who the buyer was...?"
If Diana were to say it was Amati, Lawrence's hopes would be obliterated.
But she only shook her head slightly. "I will handle the negotiation. For safety's sake, we do not allow others to know the identity of those who have dealt with us alchemists."
"B-but—"
"You have an objection?" She smiled coldly.
Lawrence was the one asking the favor; he could only remain silent.
"You've said this is a battle, so I presume the circumstances are not ordinary. I will help all I can and let you know the results as soon as possible. Where will I be able to find you tomorrow?"
"Ah, er...the marketplace in front of the stone seller's booth. I'll be there the entire time the market is open. Otherwise, if you contact Mark the wheat seller, his stand is..."
"I know the place. I'll send a messenger as soon as I'm able."
"Thank you." Lawrence couldn't think of anything else to say.
Yet the fact was that depending on the results of Diana's negotiation, it was still possible that he would be unable to buy any pyrite. The consequences would be near fatal.
There was only so much he could say.
"I won't hesitate to pay a considerable sum. I can't pay double market value or anything like that, but please inform them I will be quite generous."
Diana smiled and nodded, standing up from her chair.
Lawrence realized it was time for him to take his leave. The fact that he hadn't been turned away after showing up uninvited at this ridiculous hour was enough of a miracle already.
"I do apologize for calling so suddenly at this hour."
"Not at all. Night and day are meaningless to me."
Somehow he knew she wasn't joking, and yet he laughed anyway.
"And so long as you've brought interesting stories, you could stay all night and I wouldn't mind a bit."
Her words could have been interpreted as seduction, but Lawrence knew she was just being sincere.
Unfortunately, he'd already told her the one interesting story he knew.
In its place, a question appeared unbidden in his mind.
"Is something wrong?" asked Diana.
Lawrence was stopped in his tracks by the thought that struck him.
Flustered, he claimed it was nothing before heading for the door.
The question was preposterous. He couldn't possibly ask it.
"Being so mysterious when you leave a woman's home—honestly, you'll be lucky if the gods don't punish you," said Diana girlishly. Her playful smile made him think that she really would answer whatever question he cared to ask.
And she was probably the only one who could.
He turned to speak even as he reached for the door.
"I...have a question."
"Ask whatever you like," she said without hesitating.
Lawrence cleared his throat. "Are there any stories of gods...and humans, that is...falling in love, becoming a pair?"
He knew he wouldn't be able to answer if Diana asked why he wanted to know this.
Yet despite the risks, Lawrence had to ask.
Holo had wept, saying if she had a child, she would no longer be alone.
If this was at all possible, he wanted to tell her and perhaps give her some small hope.
Diana was stunned for a moment by this question, but she soon regained her composure and answered in a slow and measured voice.
"There are many."
"Really?" said Lawrence in spite of himself.
"Yes, for example—ah, but I'm sorry. You were in a hurry."
"Ah, er, yes. But perhaps later...if you wouldn't mind, I would very much like to hear the details."
"Certainly."
Fortunately, she did not ask his reasons for wanting to know.

Output:
Just as he was closing the door, he thought he heard her say something very softly: "Good luck to you."
When he turned to ask, the door was already closed.
Did she know of the battle between him and Amati?
Something was strange about the conversation, but Lawrence had no time to dwell on it.
Next, he needed to return to Mark's stall and then search out others who might possess pyrite in quantity.
He was short on time—and as if that wasn't bad enough, he had essentially no pyrite on hand.
Were this to continue, it would be no contest at all. His only recourse would be to pray for divine intervention.
Even if it meant leaning on his friend, Lawrence had to get Mark to give him some names, and even if he had to pay more than it was worth, he had to get pyrite.
Lawrence wondered to himself if his frantic nocturnal dealings would bring him any closer to Holo, and his only answer was uncertainty.
When he arrived back at Mark's stall, Lawrence found Mark sitting at the same table, still drinking ale, though now his apprentice was beside him, devouring a piece of bread.
Just as Lawrence thought it an odd time for the boy to be taking dinner, Mark noticed his presence.
"Any luck?" he asked.
"Just what you see," said Lawrence, waving his hands lightly as he looked Mark in the eye. "I spoke with Diana, but someone's beaten me to it. No telling how this'll turn out."
"Someone got there first?"
"I've no choice but to place my hopes in what you told me."
Given Diana's willingness to cooperate, Lawrence guessed the odds were maybe 70–30 of that working out.
But he expected that acting like there was no hope would make Mark a bit more sympathetic.
In his previous exchange with Mark, Lawrence had learned that his request for aid was an unreasonable one from the perspective of a town merchant.
Which left an appeal to emotion as the only other option.
However, Mark's reply was slow in coming.
"Ah...yes, about that."
Lawrence listened to the noncommittal statement as the blood drained from his face.
Mark thwacked his apprentice on the head, gesturing with his chin. "So? Let's hear the results."
The boy gulped down a bite of bread and quickly stood up out of the log chair. "If we pay in trenni silver, then...three hundred seventy pieces' worth of py—"
"Don't just say it in front of everyone!" Mark looked around hastily as he clamped a thick hand over the boy's mouth. If the conversation were overheard, it would be trouble. "So that's how it is."
Lawrence was confused.
Paying in trenni silver? Three hundred seventy pieces' worth?
"Ha-ha, I can't help but enjoy it when you make that face. See, after you left, I thought it over."
Mark took his hand from the boy's mouth and reached for his ale cup, his tone amused.
"I refused your request because I have a reputation to uphold. Any other town merchant would do the same. But even I have bought some you-know-what to make some money on the side—and many others have done likewise. The reason I can only buy a limited amount is that I have very little cash on hand. By all rights, the price of wheat should be dropping since the people laying in goods for their return trips haven't been buying wheat. And yet the people who've come to sell wheat are selling it right off—which is where all my cash has gone. So..."
Mark gulped down some ale, belching comfortably before continuing.
"So what of the people who do have cash? I can't believe they'd be able to resist. They've probably been buying up you-know-what in large quantities behind the scenes. And here's where you need some backstory. You see, these merchants aren't lone wolves like you. Each one has their business, their position, their reputation. And they've bought this stuff, but the price has risen so high that it's getting hard to sell. All they need do is sell a little bit to bring in a surprising profit, but this makes some of them even more nervous. So what happens next? I'm sure a clever fellow like you can figure it out."


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

Input:
Just as he was closing the door, he thought he heard her say something very softly: "Good luck to you."
When he turned to ask, the door was already closed.
Did she know of the battle between him and Amati?
Something was strange about the conversation, but Lawrence had no time to dwell on it.
Next, he needed to return to Mark's stall and then search out others who might possess pyrite in quantity.
He was short on time—and as if that wasn't bad enough, he had essentially no pyrite on hand.
Were this to continue, it would be no contest at all. His only recourse would be to pray for divine intervention.
Even if it meant leaning on his friend, Lawrence had to get Mark to give him some names, and even if he had to pay more than it was worth, he had to get pyrite.
Lawrence wondered to himself if his frantic nocturnal dealings would bring him any closer to Holo, and his only answer was uncertainty.
When he arrived back at Mark's stall, Lawrence found Mark sitting at the same table, still drinking ale, though now his apprentice was beside him, devouring a piece of bread.
Just as Lawrence thought it an odd time for the boy to be taking dinner, Mark noticed his presence.
"Any luck?" he asked.
"Just what you see," said Lawrence, waving his hands lightly as he looked Mark in the eye. "I spoke with Diana, but someone's beaten me to it. No telling how this'll turn out."
"Someone got there first?"
"I've no choice but to place my hopes in what you told me."
Given Diana's willingness to cooperate, Lawrence guessed the odds were maybe 70–30 of that working out.
But he expected that acting like there was no hope would make Mark a bit more sympathetic.
In his previous exchange with Mark, Lawrence had learned that his request for aid was an unreasonable one from the perspective of a town merchant.
Which left an appeal to emotion as the only other option.
However, Mark's reply was slow in coming.
"Ah...yes, about that."
Lawrence listened to the noncommittal statement as the blood drained from his face.
Mark thwacked his apprentice on the head, gesturing with his chin. "So? Let's hear the results."
The boy gulped down a bite of bread and quickly stood up out of the log chair. "If we pay in trenni silver, then...three hundred seventy pieces' worth of py—"
"Don't just say it in front of everyone!" Mark looked around hastily as he clamped a thick hand over the boy's mouth. If the conversation were overheard, it would be trouble. "So that's how it is."
Lawrence was confused.
Paying in trenni silver? Three hundred seventy pieces' worth?
"Ha-ha, I can't help but enjoy it when you make that face. See, after you left, I thought it over."
Mark took his hand from the boy's mouth and reached for his ale cup, his tone amused.
"I refused your request because I have a reputation to uphold. Any other town merchant would do the same. But even I have bought some you-know-what to make some money on the side—and many others have done likewise. The reason I can only buy a limited amount is that I have very little cash on hand. By all rights, the price of wheat should be dropping since the people laying in goods for their return trips haven't been buying wheat. And yet the people who've come to sell wheat are selling it right off—which is where all my cash has gone. So..."
Mark gulped down some ale, belching comfortably before continuing.
"So what of the people who do have cash? I can't believe they'd be able to resist. They've probably been buying up you-know-what in large quantities behind the scenes. And here's where you need some backstory. You see, these merchants aren't lone wolves like you. Each one has their business, their position, their reputation. And they've bought this stuff, but the price has risen so high that it's getting hard to sell. All they need do is sell a little bit to bring in a surprising profit, but this makes some of them even more nervous. So what happens next? I'm sure a clever fellow like you can figure it out."

Output:
Mark must have had his apprentice running all over town, spreading a rumor—a rumor that had to go something like this: There's a mad traveling merchant in town who wants to buy pyrite with cash. Why not take the chance to unload some of that pyrite that's not selling?
It would be a perfect opportunity for those merchants.
And to be sure, there was no question that Mark had signed a contract promising him a service fee for brokering the hidden transaction.
It was brilliant—conducting a pyrite deal under the pretense of doing someone a favor.
But to have been able to pull together 370 trenni worth—there was clearly pressure to sell in the marketplace.
"So that's how it is. If you're on board, I'll send the boy out immediately."
There was no reason to refuse.
Lawrence undid the tie of the burlap sack he had on his back.
But then he stopped. "Still—"
Mark regarded him dubiously.
Lawrence returned to himself and quickly retrieved a bag of silver coins from the sack and placed it on the table. "Sorry," he muttered.
Mark seemed momentarily at a loss for Lawrence's strange behavior. "This is when you thank me, right?"
"Ah, er, yes, sor...no, I mean—" Lawrence suddenly felt like he was speaking to Holo. "I mean, thanks."
"Bwa-ha-ha-ha! If I'd known you were such an amusing guy, I'd have...Actually, I suppose not."
Mark took the bag of silver from Lawrence and quickly looked at it; then he undid the string and handed the bag to his apprentice, who quickly emptied its contents and began counting the silver pieces.
"You've changed," said Mark.
"...Is that so?"
"Quite. You used to be not an excellent merchant, but a merchant wholly from head to toe. That's all there was of you. You never even truly thought of me as a friend, did you?"
Mark had the right of it. Lawrence had no response.
The wheat seller just smiled, though. "But what of now? Am I merely a convenient merchant to do a deal with?"
Lawrence was momentarily stunned. He couldn't possibly nod at this statement.
Feeling as though he were trapped in the center of some strange illusion, he shook his head no.
"That's why I could never content myself with the life of a traveling merchant. But there's something even more interesting."
Was this because Mark had been drinking? Or was there some other reason?
Mark continued, sounding truly amused. His face was chestnut round now despite the square cut of his beard.
"Let me ask you one thing. If it were me whose separation you were faced with, would you be running around town as frantically as you are now?"
The boy, who lived every day with Mark as his master, looked up at the two men.
Lawrence found this all very mysterious.
Though he certainly thought of Mark as a friend, he could not honestly bring himself to nod and say "yes" to that question.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha. Well, I look forward to the future. Still"—he paused, then continued quietly—"it's for your companion that you're so desperate."
Lawrence felt as though he'd swallowed something hot and felt it pass down into his stomach.
Mark looked at his apprentice. "This is what a man looks like when he's obsessed with a woman. But it's the unbending branch that breaks in a strong wind."
A single year weathered alone was worth less than half a year with company.
So how much older than Lawrence might Mark be?
"You're no different from me. You've got the traveling merchant's curse," said Mark.
"C-curse?"
"But it's almost broken, which is what's made you so amusing. Do you not see? Did you not begin traveling with your current companion out of nothing more than good fortune?"
Holo had happened to hide herself in his wheat-filled wagon as Lawrence had passed through the village.
That he'd become close to her was nothing more or less than good fortune's gift.
"Bwa-ha-ha! I feel like I'm looking at myself when I first met Adele! You've got the curse, all right."
Lawrence felt like he finally understood.


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

Input:
Mark must have had his apprentice running all over town, spreading a rumor—a rumor that had to go something like this: There's a mad traveling merchant in town who wants to buy pyrite with cash. Why not take the chance to unload some of that pyrite that's not selling?
It would be a perfect opportunity for those merchants.
And to be sure, there was no question that Mark had signed a contract promising him a service fee for brokering the hidden transaction.
It was brilliant—conducting a pyrite deal under the pretense of doing someone a favor.
But to have been able to pull together 370 trenni worth—there was clearly pressure to sell in the marketplace.
"So that's how it is. If you're on board, I'll send the boy out immediately."
There was no reason to refuse.
Lawrence undid the tie of the burlap sack he had on his back.
But then he stopped. "Still—"
Mark regarded him dubiously.
Lawrence returned to himself and quickly retrieved a bag of silver coins from the sack and placed it on the table. "Sorry," he muttered.
Mark seemed momentarily at a loss for Lawrence's strange behavior. "This is when you thank me, right?"
"Ah, er, yes, sor...no, I mean—" Lawrence suddenly felt like he was speaking to Holo. "I mean, thanks."
"Bwa-ha-ha-ha! If I'd known you were such an amusing guy, I'd have...Actually, I suppose not."
Mark took the bag of silver from Lawrence and quickly looked at it; then he undid the string and handed the bag to his apprentice, who quickly emptied its contents and began counting the silver pieces.
"You've changed," said Mark.
"...Is that so?"
"Quite. You used to be not an excellent merchant, but a merchant wholly from head to toe. That's all there was of you. You never even truly thought of me as a friend, did you?"
Mark had the right of it. Lawrence had no response.
The wheat seller just smiled, though. "But what of now? Am I merely a convenient merchant to do a deal with?"
Lawrence was momentarily stunned. He couldn't possibly nod at this statement.
Feeling as though he were trapped in the center of some strange illusion, he shook his head no.
"That's why I could never content myself with the life of a traveling merchant. But there's something even more interesting."
Was this because Mark had been drinking? Or was there some other reason?
Mark continued, sounding truly amused. His face was chestnut round now despite the square cut of his beard.
"Let me ask you one thing. If it were me whose separation you were faced with, would you be running around town as frantically as you are now?"
The boy, who lived every day with Mark as his master, looked up at the two men.
Lawrence found this all very mysterious.
Though he certainly thought of Mark as a friend, he could not honestly bring himself to nod and say "yes" to that question.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha. Well, I look forward to the future. Still"—he paused, then continued quietly—"it's for your companion that you're so desperate."
Lawrence felt as though he'd swallowed something hot and felt it pass down into his stomach.
Mark looked at his apprentice. "This is what a man looks like when he's obsessed with a woman. But it's the unbending branch that breaks in a strong wind."
A single year weathered alone was worth less than half a year with company.
So how much older than Lawrence might Mark be?
"You're no different from me. You've got the traveling merchant's curse," said Mark.
"C-curse?"
"But it's almost broken, which is what's made you so amusing. Do you not see? Did you not begin traveling with your current companion out of nothing more than good fortune?"
Holo had happened to hide herself in his wheat-filled wagon as Lawrence had passed through the village.
That he'd become close to her was nothing more or less than good fortune's gift.
"Bwa-ha-ha! I feel like I'm looking at myself when I first met Adele! You've got the curse, all right."
Lawrence felt like he finally understood.

Output:
He hadn't realized how blind he'd become to his surroundings because of Holo.
It was an unbalancing situation.
"The curse...You mean that famous 'traveling merchant's complaint'?"
Mark guffawed, then smacked his apprentice—who'd stopped working—upside the head. "The poets will tell you that money can't buy love, and the priest will tell you that there are things more precious than money. But if that's so, why is it we labor so hard to earn money, then gain something even more precious?"
Lawrence had thought so little about what exactly Holo was to him because she was always right there beside him.
If her presence had been something he had gained only after laboring long and hard, he would not have been so ambivalent.
He'd always believed that anything truly precious required much effort to gain.
If she was to ask him "What am I to you?" now, Lawrence was sure he could answer.
"Ah, such a fine tale I've not told in a long time. Combined with the information on conditions in the north, why, ten lumione seems a bargain!"
"If you'd made all this up, it'd be extortion," said Lawrence indignantly. Mark only grinned, which in turn teased a smile out of Lawrence.
"I hope all goes well for you."
Lawrence nodded, his mood clear like a cloudless evening sky.
"Though I suppose how it turns out is up to you..."
"Hm?"
"Ah, nothing," said Mark with a shake of his head. He gestured to the boy, who had finished counting up the silver coins. The apprentice was a model of competence as he made his preparations and was ready to depart a moment later.
"Right, off with you, then." Mark sent the apprentice on his way and then turned back to Lawrence. "So where will you be sleeping tonight?"
"Haven't decided yet."
"Well, then—"
"Wait, I've decided. May I sleep here?"
Mark gave Lawrence a blank look. "Here?"
"Quite—you've wheat sacks aplenty. Lend me a few of those."
"I can certainly lend you some, but come to my house. I won't even charge you."
"Ah, but this will bring luck." The practice was something many a traveling merchant believed.
Mark gave up on pressing his invitation further. "I'll see you here, dawn tomorrow."
Lawrence nodded, and Mark raised his cup.
"A toast then to your dreams."
Lawrence found he had no reason to refuse.
***
Lawrence sneezed grandly.
Of course, it didn't make a difference when he traveled alone, but lately he'd had a certain cheeky, irritable companion, so Lawrence always minded himself. Now, though, it seemed he was slipping—hence the sneeze.
He frantically checked to see if the other occupant of the blanket was still asleep—only to realize that side was rather cold.
And then he remembered that he was alone, sleeping on the wheat sacks next to Mark's stall.
***
He'd tried to prepare himself for it and had after all chosen to sleep alone, but upon awakening, he still felt a huge sense of loss.
Lawrence was used to someone being beside him when he awoke.
He had become so quickly accustomed to it that only now did he realize its value.
Lawrence overcame his reluctance to part from his warm blanket and stood up suddenly.
Frigid air immediately attacked him.
The morning sky was still dim, but already Mark's apprentice was sweeping the area in front of the stall.
"Oh, good morning, sir."
"Good morning," said Lawrence.
It didn't seem like this was a show put on for the benefit of his master's acquaintance; undoubtedly it was the boy's habit to wake this early in order to prepare the stall for opening. He casually greeted a few other boys that passed by.
He was an admirable apprentice.
More than whatever training Mark had given him, the boy simply seemed like an excellent individual.
"Ah, that reminds me—"
The boy turned around smartly as soon as Lawrence spoke.
"Did you hear from Mark what's happening today?"
"Er, no...are we not forcing the dastardly villain into a trap?" asked the apprentice.


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

Input:
He hadn't realized how blind he'd become to his surroundings because of Holo.
It was an unbalancing situation.
"The curse...You mean that famous 'traveling merchant's complaint'?"
Mark guffawed, then smacked his apprentice—who'd stopped working—upside the head. "The poets will tell you that money can't buy love, and the priest will tell you that there are things more precious than money. But if that's so, why is it we labor so hard to earn money, then gain something even more precious?"
Lawrence had thought so little about what exactly Holo was to him because she was always right there beside him.
If her presence had been something he had gained only after laboring long and hard, he would not have been so ambivalent.
He'd always believed that anything truly precious required much effort to gain.
If she was to ask him "What am I to you?" now, Lawrence was sure he could answer.
"Ah, such a fine tale I've not told in a long time. Combined with the information on conditions in the north, why, ten lumione seems a bargain!"
"If you'd made all this up, it'd be extortion," said Lawrence indignantly. Mark only grinned, which in turn teased a smile out of Lawrence.
"I hope all goes well for you."
Lawrence nodded, his mood clear like a cloudless evening sky.
"Though I suppose how it turns out is up to you..."
"Hm?"
"Ah, nothing," said Mark with a shake of his head. He gestured to the boy, who had finished counting up the silver coins. The apprentice was a model of competence as he made his preparations and was ready to depart a moment later.
"Right, off with you, then." Mark sent the apprentice on his way and then turned back to Lawrence. "So where will you be sleeping tonight?"
"Haven't decided yet."
"Well, then—"
"Wait, I've decided. May I sleep here?"
Mark gave Lawrence a blank look. "Here?"
"Quite—you've wheat sacks aplenty. Lend me a few of those."
"I can certainly lend you some, but come to my house. I won't even charge you."
"Ah, but this will bring luck." The practice was something many a traveling merchant believed.
Mark gave up on pressing his invitation further. "I'll see you here, dawn tomorrow."
Lawrence nodded, and Mark raised his cup.
"A toast then to your dreams."
Lawrence found he had no reason to refuse.
***
Lawrence sneezed grandly.
Of course, it didn't make a difference when he traveled alone, but lately he'd had a certain cheeky, irritable companion, so Lawrence always minded himself. Now, though, it seemed he was slipping—hence the sneeze.
He frantically checked to see if the other occupant of the blanket was still asleep—only to realize that side was rather cold.
And then he remembered that he was alone, sleeping on the wheat sacks next to Mark's stall.
***
He'd tried to prepare himself for it and had after all chosen to sleep alone, but upon awakening, he still felt a huge sense of loss.
Lawrence was used to someone being beside him when he awoke.
He had become so quickly accustomed to it that only now did he realize its value.
Lawrence overcame his reluctance to part from his warm blanket and stood up suddenly.
Frigid air immediately attacked him.
The morning sky was still dim, but already Mark's apprentice was sweeping the area in front of the stall.
"Oh, good morning, sir."
"Good morning," said Lawrence.
It didn't seem like this was a show put on for the benefit of his master's acquaintance; undoubtedly it was the boy's habit to wake this early in order to prepare the stall for opening. He casually greeted a few other boys that passed by.
He was an admirable apprentice.
More than whatever training Mark had given him, the boy simply seemed like an excellent individual.
"Ah, that reminds me—"
The boy turned around smartly as soon as Lawrence spoke.
"Did you hear from Mark what's happening today?"
"Er, no...are we not forcing the dastardly villain into a trap?" asked the apprentice.

Output:
The boy held his broom at his side like a sword and gulped.
Seeing the boy made Lawrence sure of one thing.
He might well have been the promising young apprentice of a wheat seller, but in his heart he still longed for the life of a knight.
After all, one only sees "dastardly villains" in fairy tales.
Lawrence got a ticklish feeling, as though he was looking back on his younger self.
"What's your name, lad?"
"Ah, er, it's—"
When a merchant asked another person for their name, it was an acknowledgment of that person's status.
The boy had probably never been asked his name before in his life.
Despite his visible fluster, he really was an admirable lad, Lawrence felt.
The boy straightened up and answered. "Landt. My name is Eu Landt."
"Born in the northlands, were you?"
"Yes, from a village frozen in snow and frost."
Lawrence saw that Landt's description was not just an easy way to convey a sense of his hometown, but a literal description of how it must have seemed when he looked back on it for the last time.
That was how things were in the north.
"I see. Well, I'm counting on you today, Landt." Lawrence extended his right hand, and Landt hurried to wipe his own hand off on his tunic before shaking Lawrence's proffered hand.
The boy's palm was rough and callused, and who knew what sort of future it might grasp?
Lawrence knew he had to win.
He let the boy's hand go.
"Well then, first let's fill our bellies, eh? Is there anyplace nearby that's selling food yet?"
"There's a stand that sells dry bread to travelers. Shall I go and buy some?"
"Indeed," said Lawrence and produced two tarnished irehd pieces that were so dark they looked almost coppery.
"Er, one piece should be plenty," said Landt.
"The other's an advance on your help today. Of course, I'll pay you a proper consideration when it's all done."
The boy was stunned.
Smiling, Lawrence added, "If you dawdle, Mark's liable to arrive. No doubt he'll claim breakfast is a luxury, don't you think?"
Landt nodded hastily and then dashed off.
Lawrence watched his form recede for a while, and then he turned his gaze to the spaces between the many stalls across the street.
"Don't you spoil my apprentice now."
"You could've stopped me."
Mark's form appeared in the space between crates. His expression seemed irritable, and he sighed. "It's gotten cold lately. If he takes ill because I haven't let him eat enough, that's more trouble for me."
It was clear enough that Mark had a good deal of affection for Landt.
But having Landt get some breakfast was no simple act of kindness; it was an important part of Lawrence's plan.
Merchants were not saints, after all. Whatever their actions, they always have ulterior motives.
"Should be good weather today," said Mark. "Good for selling," he finished with a nod.
Lawrence took a deep breath.
The bracing morning air felt good.
When he exhaled, all the unnecessary thoughts in his mind seemed to leave with his breath.
All he had to think about now was making his plan succeed.
Once success was his, he could second-guess and doubt all he wanted.
"Right then, time to fill my stomach," said Lawrence heartily as he caught sight of a winded Landt returning.
The atmosphere itself was different.
That was the first thing that struck Lawrence as he arrived at the marketplace.
What at first look seemed to be as quiet as a glassy lake's surface was a roiling boil as soon as one touched it.
Ever since sunrise, a single corner of the marketplace was the focus of an unusually dense crowd, and every person's gaze was turned to a single stall.
It was the sole stone seller in the town of Kumersun, and the only detail the crowd cared about was a makeshift board with prices written on it.
On the price board were written descriptions of the weight and shape of pieces of pyrite, and beside each description line was a wooden placard with the price and the number of people in line to buy it.


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

Input:
The boy held his broom at his side like a sword and gulped.
Seeing the boy made Lawrence sure of one thing.
He might well have been the promising young apprentice of a wheat seller, but in his heart he still longed for the life of a knight.
After all, one only sees "dastardly villains" in fairy tales.
Lawrence got a ticklish feeling, as though he was looking back on his younger self.
"What's your name, lad?"
"Ah, er, it's—"
When a merchant asked another person for their name, it was an acknowledgment of that person's status.
The boy had probably never been asked his name before in his life.
Despite his visible fluster, he really was an admirable lad, Lawrence felt.
The boy straightened up and answered. "Landt. My name is Eu Landt."
"Born in the northlands, were you?"
"Yes, from a village frozen in snow and frost."
Lawrence saw that Landt's description was not just an easy way to convey a sense of his hometown, but a literal description of how it must have seemed when he looked back on it for the last time.
That was how things were in the north.
"I see. Well, I'm counting on you today, Landt." Lawrence extended his right hand, and Landt hurried to wipe his own hand off on his tunic before shaking Lawrence's proffered hand.
The boy's palm was rough and callused, and who knew what sort of future it might grasp?
Lawrence knew he had to win.
He let the boy's hand go.
"Well then, first let's fill our bellies, eh? Is there anyplace nearby that's selling food yet?"
"There's a stand that sells dry bread to travelers. Shall I go and buy some?"
"Indeed," said Lawrence and produced two tarnished irehd pieces that were so dark they looked almost coppery.
"Er, one piece should be plenty," said Landt.
"The other's an advance on your help today. Of course, I'll pay you a proper consideration when it's all done."
The boy was stunned.
Smiling, Lawrence added, "If you dawdle, Mark's liable to arrive. No doubt he'll claim breakfast is a luxury, don't you think?"
Landt nodded hastily and then dashed off.
Lawrence watched his form recede for a while, and then he turned his gaze to the spaces between the many stalls across the street.
"Don't you spoil my apprentice now."
"You could've stopped me."
Mark's form appeared in the space between crates. His expression seemed irritable, and he sighed. "It's gotten cold lately. If he takes ill because I haven't let him eat enough, that's more trouble for me."
It was clear enough that Mark had a good deal of affection for Landt.
But having Landt get some breakfast was no simple act of kindness; it was an important part of Lawrence's plan.
Merchants were not saints, after all. Whatever their actions, they always have ulterior motives.
"Should be good weather today," said Mark. "Good for selling," he finished with a nod.
Lawrence took a deep breath.
The bracing morning air felt good.
When he exhaled, all the unnecessary thoughts in his mind seemed to leave with his breath.
All he had to think about now was making his plan succeed.
Once success was his, he could second-guess and doubt all he wanted.
"Right then, time to fill my stomach," said Lawrence heartily as he caught sight of a winded Landt returning.
The atmosphere itself was different.
That was the first thing that struck Lawrence as he arrived at the marketplace.
What at first look seemed to be as quiet as a glassy lake's surface was a roiling boil as soon as one touched it.
Ever since sunrise, a single corner of the marketplace was the focus of an unusually dense crowd, and every person's gaze was turned to a single stall.
It was the sole stone seller in the town of Kumersun, and the only detail the crowd cared about was a makeshift board with prices written on it.
On the price board were written descriptions of the weight and shape of pieces of pyrite, and beside each description line was a wooden placard with the price and the number of people in line to buy it.

Output:
The board made obvious the supply and demand for pyrite, and the demand was high.
"Looks like the average price is...eight hundred irehd."
That was eighty times the old price.
It could only be described as absurd. Like a runaway horse with no rider to check it, the price kept rising and rising.
Presented with an opportunity for easy money, human reason was like reins of mud—completely incapable of stopping this runaway horse.
Though the market bell would not ring for some time, there seemed to be a tacit approval for doing early deals. Once Lawrence reached that stand, he caught sight of merchants approaching the master occasionally to whisper a few words. Once a number of deals had been reached, the master would quietly replace the relevant wooden placards.
The master didn't update the prices and line numbers immediately, probably to keep others from knowing exactly who had purchased pyrite and at what price.
But in any case, the number of people waiting to buy kept rising.
Just as Lawrence was estimating the total amount being spent, a figure appeared at the edge of his vision.
He looked. It was Amati.
Lawrence had seen Amati before Amati had spotted him the previous night, but the young merchant was sharp-eyed enough not to let chances for profit escape. His gaze was every bit as keen as Lawrence's, and he soon caught sight of his rival.
A friendly greeting would hardly have been appropriate.
But since Lawrence had arranged to collect the cash he was owed upon the sounding of the bell that opened the marketplace, he could hardly ignore Amati, either.
Just as he considered this, Amati revealed a smile and nodded slightly.
Lawrence was taken aback for a moment but soon understood the reason.
Beside Amati was Holo.
For whatever reason, she was not dressed as a town girl, but instead wore her nun's robes. Three pure white feathers, vivid enough to be visible at a distance, were affixed to her hood.
She looked steadily at the stone seller's stall, not once meeting Lawrence's eye.
Heat rose in his belly at Amati's smile.
Holo whispered something in Amati's ear before the the young merchant made his way through the gathered merchants toward Lawrence, and Lawrence feigned total serenity, as if the anger he felt did not exist.
He had confidence that as long as he did not have to fool Holo, his charade would go unchallenged.
"Good morning, Mr. Lawrence."
"And to you."
It took some effort for Lawrence to maintain his facade in the face of Amati's pleasant greeting.
"Things are going to become quite hectic once the bell rings, so I thought it would be best to turn this over to you ahead of time," said Amati, producing a small bag from near his breast.
In size it was more of a coin purse than anything else. "What's this?" Lawrence asked, having expected Amati to give him the agreed-upon silver coins.
The bag was far too small to carry three hundred pieces of silver.
"This is the promised amount," said Amati.
Having no other choice, Lawrence suspiciously accepted the bag.
When he opened the bag's mouth and looked inside, his eyes widened.
"It might have been a bit presumptuous of me," said Amati, "but three hundred silver pieces would be quite cumbersome, so I took the liberty of remitting in gold limar coins."
Though it was hard to imagine how he'd managed to obtain them, the bag was indeed filled with gold coins.
The gold limar was not as valuable as the lumione, but it was a widely circulated coin within Ploania, the country in which Kumersun was situated. It was worth about twenty trenni.
But managing to obtain this amount during a currency shortage—the service charge must have been incredibly steep.
The only reason to do it was for Amati to prove how much coin he had on hand—it was a psychological attack.
Amati had Holo in tow, too, probably as another way to divert Lawrence's attention.
Lawrence had inadvertently widened his eyes in surprise, so there could be no concealing his perturbation.


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

Input:
The board made obvious the supply and demand for pyrite, and the demand was high.
"Looks like the average price is...eight hundred irehd."
That was eighty times the old price.
It could only be described as absurd. Like a runaway horse with no rider to check it, the price kept rising and rising.
Presented with an opportunity for easy money, human reason was like reins of mud—completely incapable of stopping this runaway horse.
Though the market bell would not ring for some time, there seemed to be a tacit approval for doing early deals. Once Lawrence reached that stand, he caught sight of merchants approaching the master occasionally to whisper a few words. Once a number of deals had been reached, the master would quietly replace the relevant wooden placards.
The master didn't update the prices and line numbers immediately, probably to keep others from knowing exactly who had purchased pyrite and at what price.
But in any case, the number of people waiting to buy kept rising.
Just as Lawrence was estimating the total amount being spent, a figure appeared at the edge of his vision.
He looked. It was Amati.
Lawrence had seen Amati before Amati had spotted him the previous night, but the young merchant was sharp-eyed enough not to let chances for profit escape. His gaze was every bit as keen as Lawrence's, and he soon caught sight of his rival.
A friendly greeting would hardly have been appropriate.
But since Lawrence had arranged to collect the cash he was owed upon the sounding of the bell that opened the marketplace, he could hardly ignore Amati, either.
Just as he considered this, Amati revealed a smile and nodded slightly.
Lawrence was taken aback for a moment but soon understood the reason.
Beside Amati was Holo.
For whatever reason, she was not dressed as a town girl, but instead wore her nun's robes. Three pure white feathers, vivid enough to be visible at a distance, were affixed to her hood.
She looked steadily at the stone seller's stall, not once meeting Lawrence's eye.
Heat rose in his belly at Amati's smile.
Holo whispered something in Amati's ear before the the young merchant made his way through the gathered merchants toward Lawrence, and Lawrence feigned total serenity, as if the anger he felt did not exist.
He had confidence that as long as he did not have to fool Holo, his charade would go unchallenged.
"Good morning, Mr. Lawrence."
"And to you."
It took some effort for Lawrence to maintain his facade in the face of Amati's pleasant greeting.
"Things are going to become quite hectic once the bell rings, so I thought it would be best to turn this over to you ahead of time," said Amati, producing a small bag from near his breast.
In size it was more of a coin purse than anything else. "What's this?" Lawrence asked, having expected Amati to give him the agreed-upon silver coins.
The bag was far too small to carry three hundred pieces of silver.
"This is the promised amount," said Amati.
Having no other choice, Lawrence suspiciously accepted the bag.
When he opened the bag's mouth and looked inside, his eyes widened.
"It might have been a bit presumptuous of me," said Amati, "but three hundred silver pieces would be quite cumbersome, so I took the liberty of remitting in gold limar coins."
Though it was hard to imagine how he'd managed to obtain them, the bag was indeed filled with gold coins.
The gold limar was not as valuable as the lumione, but it was a widely circulated coin within Ploania, the country in which Kumersun was situated. It was worth about twenty trenni.
But managing to obtain this amount during a currency shortage—the service charge must have been incredibly steep.
The only reason to do it was for Amati to prove how much coin he had on hand—it was a psychological attack.
Amati had Holo in tow, too, probably as another way to divert Lawrence's attention.
Lawrence had inadvertently widened his eyes in surprise, so there could be no concealing his perturbation.

Output:
"...Understood. I accept."
"Do you not wish to count the coins?"
Normally saying "There's no need," as Lawrence did, should've shown confidence, but now it just seemed as though he was merely pretending at strength.
"In that case, I'd like the contract for three hundred silver."
Lawrence only did so after being asked.
Amati was still one step ahead of him.
Once the cash and the partially fulfilled contract had been exchanged, Amati was even the first to say, "Very well."
As he watched Amati's receding form, one ill realization after another flashed through Lawrence's mind.
When they had signed the contract the previous day, Amati may have claimed to have insufficient cash as an excuse to provide the horses in lieu of coin.
Always keeping a certain amount of cash on hand was a trait shared by all merchants.
What was worse, Amati had surely searched out and bought pyrite just as Lawrence had.
If Amati had gathered enough, all he would require was a very small increase in price.
Thinking back on the way Amati had just bowed so gracefully and turned around after accepting the contract, Lawrence could not believe that it had been a bluff.
Just how much pyrite had the boy managed to buy?
Lawrence feigned rubbing his nose and instead bit his thumbnail.
His original plan had been to observe carefully and then begin selling off quantities of pyrite starting at noon to check the rising price.
Suddenly Lawrence wondered if he should move more quickly.
But Diana's messenger had not arrived yet.
Until he knew whether or not he would be able to obtain the necessary amounts, Lawrence couldn't act.
He could purchase more pyrite using the gold Amati had paid him but if Diana's negotiations on his behalf succeeded and he received another four hundred silver pieces' worth, that would also be a problem.
He'd set aside money to pay Diana with so that was not an issue, but he would have too much of the mineral.
Of course, he'd been purchasing pyrite in order to be able to force a drop in its price, and he'd been careful to buy just enough to be able to control that drop, in order to avoid his own bankruptcy.
Admittedly, if Lawrence was willing to ruin himself in order to stop Amati for Holo's sake, she might finally accept his sincerity.
Of course, the story would not end so easily—he still needed to live on something after that.
The weight of reality bore down on him heavier than the gold coins in his hand.
The stone shop's price board was updated again.
It seemed someone had just bought a large amount of pyrite; both the prices and the line numbers jumped dramatically.
How much would Amati's pyrite be worth after this jump?
Lawrence felt unable to simply stand by and do nothing.
But losing his cool could lead to defeat.
He closed his eyes, lowered the hand with the fingernails he'd been biting from his mouth, and took a deep breath.
Everything he had been thinking was all due to Amati's bluffing.
After all, behind Amati was Holo. If Lawrence could just discern everyone's ulterior motives, he would be fine.
Just then, the clear tone of a ringing bell swept overhead.
It was the signal for the market to open.
The battle had begun.
The charged atmosphere seemed to induce everyone to stay scrupulously honest and calm.
They had been waiting for some time in front of the stone seller's stand but only began to move once the bell rang.
An examination of the crown revealed travelers and farmers furtively selling small quantities of pyrite—but the small-scale selling only served to further heat the marketplace.
In a situation where none were willing to sell, the only people with an advantage were those who already had a large stock of pyrite—it was thanks to the small-scale selling along with new buyers that kept people excited and close to the stall's front.
Since each person there thought they had a chance to profit, none left.


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

Input:
"...Understood. I accept."
"Do you not wish to count the coins?"
Normally saying "There's no need," as Lawrence did, should've shown confidence, but now it just seemed as though he was merely pretending at strength.
"In that case, I'd like the contract for three hundred silver."
Lawrence only did so after being asked.
Amati was still one step ahead of him.
Once the cash and the partially fulfilled contract had been exchanged, Amati was even the first to say, "Very well."
As he watched Amati's receding form, one ill realization after another flashed through Lawrence's mind.
When they had signed the contract the previous day, Amati may have claimed to have insufficient cash as an excuse to provide the horses in lieu of coin.
Always keeping a certain amount of cash on hand was a trait shared by all merchants.
What was worse, Amati had surely searched out and bought pyrite just as Lawrence had.
If Amati had gathered enough, all he would require was a very small increase in price.
Thinking back on the way Amati had just bowed so gracefully and turned around after accepting the contract, Lawrence could not believe that it had been a bluff.
Just how much pyrite had the boy managed to buy?
Lawrence feigned rubbing his nose and instead bit his thumbnail.
His original plan had been to observe carefully and then begin selling off quantities of pyrite starting at noon to check the rising price.
Suddenly Lawrence wondered if he should move more quickly.
But Diana's messenger had not arrived yet.
Until he knew whether or not he would be able to obtain the necessary amounts, Lawrence couldn't act.
He could purchase more pyrite using the gold Amati had paid him but if Diana's negotiations on his behalf succeeded and he received another four hundred silver pieces' worth, that would also be a problem.
He'd set aside money to pay Diana with so that was not an issue, but he would have too much of the mineral.
Of course, he'd been purchasing pyrite in order to be able to force a drop in its price, and he'd been careful to buy just enough to be able to control that drop, in order to avoid his own bankruptcy.
Admittedly, if Lawrence was willing to ruin himself in order to stop Amati for Holo's sake, she might finally accept his sincerity.
Of course, the story would not end so easily—he still needed to live on something after that.
The weight of reality bore down on him heavier than the gold coins in his hand.
The stone shop's price board was updated again.
It seemed someone had just bought a large amount of pyrite; both the prices and the line numbers jumped dramatically.
How much would Amati's pyrite be worth after this jump?
Lawrence felt unable to simply stand by and do nothing.
But losing his cool could lead to defeat.
He closed his eyes, lowered the hand with the fingernails he'd been biting from his mouth, and took a deep breath.
Everything he had been thinking was all due to Amati's bluffing.
After all, behind Amati was Holo. If Lawrence could just discern everyone's ulterior motives, he would be fine.
Just then, the clear tone of a ringing bell swept overhead.
It was the signal for the market to open.
The battle had begun.
The charged atmosphere seemed to induce everyone to stay scrupulously honest and calm.
They had been waiting for some time in front of the stone seller's stand but only began to move once the bell rang.
An examination of the crown revealed travelers and farmers furtively selling small quantities of pyrite—but the small-scale selling only served to further heat the marketplace.
In a situation where none were willing to sell, the only people with an advantage were those who already had a large stock of pyrite—it was thanks to the small-scale selling along with new buyers that kept people excited and close to the stall's front.
Since each person there thought they had a chance to profit, none left.

Output:
The price board, which occasionally disappeared behind the heads of the people in the crowd, was a thermometer for the marketplace, and it was constantly rising.
Diana's messenger still had not arrived.
If her negotiations failed, he would have to take action quickly.
The thoughts pained him as he stared at the price board, and suddenly Amati appeared in his field of vision in front of the stall.
Panic washed over Lawrence, and he wanted to dash forward, clutching the bag of what pyrite he had to his breast.
But if that was Amati's plan to shake him up, such a move could be disastrous. If Lawrence sold off only a middling amount, it would just increase demand as buyers assumed they would be able to purchase pyrite so long as they waited long enough, and as the line grew longer, the price would continue to rise.
Lawrence controlled his urge to sell, praying that this was a ploy on Amati's part.
Then he realized something.
Holo was gone.
Lawrence glanced around and saw that at some point Holo had moved outside of the strange crowd of people and was looking at him.
When their eyes met, she narrowed hers in displeasure, then turned, and began to walk away.
As he saw this, sweat sprung upon Lawrence's back.
This had to be a trap that Holo was hinting at.
If she had heard of the circumstances surrounding pyrite from Amati, it was entirely possible she'd contrived a way to trap Lawrence. Someone as clever as Holo would surely notice things that Amati would miss, even if he was the one explaining the situation to her.
And Holo excelled at discerning what was in people's hearts. She was unparalleled at such times.
As soon as he thought of this, Lawrence was assaulted by a vision of the quagmire that surrounded him.
No matter where he stepped, he would sink into the mud; no matter whose movements he watched, they would be illusions.
Lawrence suspected darkly that this was all part of Holo's plan.
The terror of having a sly wolf circling him thus sunk into his body.
Yet Lawrence couldn't abandon hope that Holo was merely doing this out of some perverse obstinacy.
The poisons of assumption and doubt penetrated his mind.
He stared blankly at the price board, though this was not his intention. It was simply all he could do at the moment.
The price of pyrite continued to inch upward.
Fortunately, since the price was already so preposterously inflated, the rate of the increase was quite slow.
Still, if the price continued to increase at this rate, it would certainly reach by noon the 20 percent needed by Amati.
To Lawrence's knowledge, Amati's current stock of pyrite was worth eight hundred silver pieces. If the price rose twenty percent, he would need only forty more silver pieces to reach the required thousand.
And if all he needed was forty coins, Amati would surely be able to produce them.
He could sell whatever of his fortune he needed to and complete the contract on the spot. If that happened, the margin sale poison that Lawrence counted on would undoubtedly have little effect.
Where was Diana's messenger?
Lawrence muttered to himself, a consuming panic sinking into his gut.
Even if he was to start scrambling to buy pyrite now, how much would he be able to collect?
It was not like the previous night, where the market had already closed and no one knew whether the price would rise or fall next—no, now it was utterly obvious that the price was rising.
Anybody who had pyrite knew it was like free money—nobody would sell to him under such circumstances.
The realization hit him—his plan could only succeed if he got the pyrite from Diana, and at this rate, he might wind up taking a huge blow from Amati because of the margin-selling contract, as well.
Lawrence rubbed his eye and thought hard. He had planned to pursue his goal coolly and logically, but he was starting to feel as though he'd been forced into a complete dead end.
No, he told himself.
He knew what the problem was.
It was not because of the fluctuating price of pyrite.


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

Input:
The price board, which occasionally disappeared behind the heads of the people in the crowd, was a thermometer for the marketplace, and it was constantly rising.
Diana's messenger still had not arrived.
If her negotiations failed, he would have to take action quickly.
The thoughts pained him as he stared at the price board, and suddenly Amati appeared in his field of vision in front of the stall.
Panic washed over Lawrence, and he wanted to dash forward, clutching the bag of what pyrite he had to his breast.
But if that was Amati's plan to shake him up, such a move could be disastrous. If Lawrence sold off only a middling amount, it would just increase demand as buyers assumed they would be able to purchase pyrite so long as they waited long enough, and as the line grew longer, the price would continue to rise.
Lawrence controlled his urge to sell, praying that this was a ploy on Amati's part.
Then he realized something.
Holo was gone.
Lawrence glanced around and saw that at some point Holo had moved outside of the strange crowd of people and was looking at him.
When their eyes met, she narrowed hers in displeasure, then turned, and began to walk away.
As he saw this, sweat sprung upon Lawrence's back.
This had to be a trap that Holo was hinting at.
If she had heard of the circumstances surrounding pyrite from Amati, it was entirely possible she'd contrived a way to trap Lawrence. Someone as clever as Holo would surely notice things that Amati would miss, even if he was the one explaining the situation to her.
And Holo excelled at discerning what was in people's hearts. She was unparalleled at such times.
As soon as he thought of this, Lawrence was assaulted by a vision of the quagmire that surrounded him.
No matter where he stepped, he would sink into the mud; no matter whose movements he watched, they would be illusions.
Lawrence suspected darkly that this was all part of Holo's plan.
The terror of having a sly wolf circling him thus sunk into his body.
Yet Lawrence couldn't abandon hope that Holo was merely doing this out of some perverse obstinacy.
The poisons of assumption and doubt penetrated his mind.
He stared blankly at the price board, though this was not his intention. It was simply all he could do at the moment.
The price of pyrite continued to inch upward.
Fortunately, since the price was already so preposterously inflated, the rate of the increase was quite slow.
Still, if the price continued to increase at this rate, it would certainly reach by noon the 20 percent needed by Amati.
To Lawrence's knowledge, Amati's current stock of pyrite was worth eight hundred silver pieces. If the price rose twenty percent, he would need only forty more silver pieces to reach the required thousand.
And if all he needed was forty coins, Amati would surely be able to produce them.
He could sell whatever of his fortune he needed to and complete the contract on the spot. If that happened, the margin sale poison that Lawrence counted on would undoubtedly have little effect.
Where was Diana's messenger?
Lawrence muttered to himself, a consuming panic sinking into his gut.
Even if he was to start scrambling to buy pyrite now, how much would he be able to collect?
It was not like the previous night, where the market had already closed and no one knew whether the price would rise or fall next—no, now it was utterly obvious that the price was rising.
Anybody who had pyrite knew it was like free money—nobody would sell to him under such circumstances.
The realization hit him—his plan could only succeed if he got the pyrite from Diana, and at this rate, he might wind up taking a huge blow from Amati because of the margin-selling contract, as well.
Lawrence rubbed his eye and thought hard. He had planned to pursue his goal coolly and logically, but he was starting to feel as though he'd been forced into a complete dead end.
No, he told himself.
He knew what the problem was.
It was not because of the fluctuating price of pyrite.

Output:
She had arrived with Amati at the marketplace—it was possible that rather than meeting up in the morning, they'd spent the night together.
Holo might have invited Amati back to the inn after Lawrence had arranged the margin-selling contract with him.
Depending on the circumstances, she might even have shown him her ears and tail and told him the truth of her existence.
Lawrence wanted to believe such a thing was impossible, but he remembered that Holo had revealed her true nature to him the same day they'd met. It was the height of folly to believe that she had somehow marked him and only him as particularly open-minded.
Amati was clearly and madly in love with Holo; no doubt she could evaluate anyone as quickly as she had Lawrence.
And what if Amati had accepted her?
He remembered the young merchant's smile only moments ago.
Holo feared being alone.
And Lawrence was not sure that she wanted to be with him and only him.
The realization that he should not be thinking this way hit him, and his legs nearly collapsed under him at the shock of it.
It was out of sheer luck that he didn't fall.
Suddenly a murmur ran through the crowd, bringing Lawrence back to himself.
He turned to look at the oohs! that arose, only to see that the price of the most expensive pyrite had jumped significantly.
Someone had put in a large bid.
Its acceptance meant that others would soon follow suit.
It might already be impossible to stop Amati from fulfilling the contract.
The fact that there was still no word from Diana suggested that the other party might be being stubborn; if the price of pyrite continued to rise, that would only make them more reluctant to sell.
It was looking more and more as if Lawrence should abandon that hope and take action now.
The weapons he had on hand were four hundred silver pieces' worth of pyrite, along with the rumor that Landt had been given to spread.
It was such a pathetic arsenal that Lawrence wanted to laugh. He now seriously doubted the idea he'd had such faith in the previous day, that a mere rumor could do any damage. Only yesterday it had been his secret weapon, the product of his years of experience.
It was becoming more and more clear to him just how drunk he must have been.
He realized he was already trying to think of a contingency plan.
If he did nothing, he would still receive one thousand silver pieces from Amati, which would leave him a tidy profit even after subtracting the losses from the margin selling.
Lawrence was disgusted by how much lighter this made him feel.
...If you could receive a thousand silver coins for me, it would not be so regrettable to let me go—Holo's accusation hit him.
Lawrence remembered the letter from Diana that was tucked near his breast.
It was the information that would help him find Holo's home of Yoitsu. Perhaps he no longer had any right to hold this letter.
I'm just a lowly merchant. Lawrence thought to himself as he looked around for Holo.
The events that happened in the port town of Pazzio and the Church city of Ruvinheigen had been but a dream.
As soon as the thought struck him, he realized that it seemed to be exactly so.
Lawrence smiled weakly as he looked into the hotly swirling crowd, but Holo was nowhere to be found, so he moved elsewhere.
Some time had passed since the opening of the market, but the day's festival had not yet started, so more and more people seemed to be making their way in.
Holo remained elusive.
Cursing his inability to find her now—now of all times!—he realized something.
After he'd met her gaze in the crowd, Holo had walked away.
Had she simply left right then and there?
If so, where had she gone? Had she decided his failure was a foregone conclusion, Lawrence wondered, and returned to the inn?
It would stand to reason.
The idea was so humiliating that Lawrence felt broken just thinking it—and yet he believed it himself.
He wanted some wine.


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

Input:
She had arrived with Amati at the marketplace—it was possible that rather than meeting up in the morning, they'd spent the night together.
Holo might have invited Amati back to the inn after Lawrence had arranged the margin-selling contract with him.
Depending on the circumstances, she might even have shown him her ears and tail and told him the truth of her existence.
Lawrence wanted to believe such a thing was impossible, but he remembered that Holo had revealed her true nature to him the same day they'd met. It was the height of folly to believe that she had somehow marked him and only him as particularly open-minded.
Amati was clearly and madly in love with Holo; no doubt she could evaluate anyone as quickly as she had Lawrence.
And what if Amati had accepted her?
He remembered the young merchant's smile only moments ago.
Holo feared being alone.
And Lawrence was not sure that she wanted to be with him and only him.
The realization that he should not be thinking this way hit him, and his legs nearly collapsed under him at the shock of it.
It was out of sheer luck that he didn't fall.
Suddenly a murmur ran through the crowd, bringing Lawrence back to himself.
He turned to look at the oohs! that arose, only to see that the price of the most expensive pyrite had jumped significantly.
Someone had put in a large bid.
Its acceptance meant that others would soon follow suit.
It might already be impossible to stop Amati from fulfilling the contract.
The fact that there was still no word from Diana suggested that the other party might be being stubborn; if the price of pyrite continued to rise, that would only make them more reluctant to sell.
It was looking more and more as if Lawrence should abandon that hope and take action now.
The weapons he had on hand were four hundred silver pieces' worth of pyrite, along with the rumor that Landt had been given to spread.
It was such a pathetic arsenal that Lawrence wanted to laugh. He now seriously doubted the idea he'd had such faith in the previous day, that a mere rumor could do any damage. Only yesterday it had been his secret weapon, the product of his years of experience.
It was becoming more and more clear to him just how drunk he must have been.
He realized he was already trying to think of a contingency plan.
If he did nothing, he would still receive one thousand silver pieces from Amati, which would leave him a tidy profit even after subtracting the losses from the margin selling.
Lawrence was disgusted by how much lighter this made him feel.
...If you could receive a thousand silver coins for me, it would not be so regrettable to let me go—Holo's accusation hit him.
Lawrence remembered the letter from Diana that was tucked near his breast.
It was the information that would help him find Holo's home of Yoitsu. Perhaps he no longer had any right to hold this letter.
I'm just a lowly merchant. Lawrence thought to himself as he looked around for Holo.
The events that happened in the port town of Pazzio and the Church city of Ruvinheigen had been but a dream.
As soon as the thought struck him, he realized that it seemed to be exactly so.
Lawrence smiled weakly as he looked into the hotly swirling crowd, but Holo was nowhere to be found, so he moved elsewhere.
Some time had passed since the opening of the market, but the day's festival had not yet started, so more and more people seemed to be making their way in.
Holo remained elusive.
Cursing his inability to find her now—now of all times!—he realized something.
After he'd met her gaze in the crowd, Holo had walked away.
Had she simply left right then and there?
If so, where had she gone? Had she decided his failure was a foregone conclusion, Lawrence wondered, and returned to the inn?
It would stand to reason.
The idea was so humiliating that Lawrence felt broken just thinking it—and yet he believed it himself.
He wanted some wine.

Output:
He'd been scanning a fairly small area, so his eyes were bound to notice the detail eventually.
Amati had entered his field of vision, which caused Lawrence to make a noise of confusion and surprise.
Amati's right hand was pressed up against his chest, probably holding a bag of coin and pyrite.
The problem was not in what he was doing, but rather the expression of concern on his face and the way that he looked here and there, searching for something—just like Lawrence.
Lawrence suspected Amati of putting on some kind of act.
But then by some miracle, the crowd between them thinned, and Amati noticed Lawrence. He was clearly surprised to see his rival.
And then Lawrence glimpsed a look of relief on Amati's face. Though the crowd quickly closed in around them and blocked Lawrence's view again, there was no mistaking what he had seen.
A single thought jumped out at Lawrence.
Amati—like him—was looking for Holo. Not only that, Amati had been relieved to see that Holo wasn't with Lawrence.
Lawrence felt a thump, as though someone's shoulder had bumped into him from behind.
He turned to see one mercantile-looking fellow talking excitedly with another.
That's odd, he said to himself, whereupon he felt the same thump reverberate from his back to his chest.
Then he realized.
It was the pounding of his heart.
Amati had been frantically looking for Holo and was obviously very worried that she would be with Lawrence.
The young merchant did not trust her fully.
Which in turn suggested that there was a reason for his doubt.
But what was it?
"It couldn't be—," said Lawrence.
If Amati was looking for her, that meant she had not told him where she was going.
And if that alone was enough to cause Amati stress, it was very unlikely she had revealed her ears and tail to him.
It was enough to make Lawrence want to abandon the dark, dismal conclusions he'd come to only a moment ago and turn to brighter assumptions.
He had no confidence in his ability to tell whether or not this was wishful thinking, however.
It was vexing enough to make him nauseous.
Suddenly there was another cry from the crowd.
Lawrence looked hastily toward the stone seller's stall and saw that somewhere along the line, the placard for the highest-value pyrite had been removed.
Which meant that it had sold at that price.
And that wasn't even the reason for the shouts.
The placards marking the highest values for various types of pyrite had all been taken down, and there was a drop in the number of plates for buyers in line.
Someone had sold off a considerable amount.
Lawrence fought back the nausea that rose and looked about frantically, trying to spot Amati.
He was not in front of the stall.
He wasn't even near it.
When Lawrence finally spotted him, Amati was in the crowd.
He was watching the stall with a shocked expression.
So it hadn't been Amati who had made the large sale.
Lawrence felt but a fleeting moment of relief before more placards for waiting buyers went up, along with a new round of cries from the crowd.
Nearly everyone here had at least a small amount of pyrite; they were waiting for just the right moment to buy or sell. The market was starting to fluctuate, which would become another factor for them to consider.
Essentially, now was the right time to sell.
Lawrence was on the verge of giving up—but pushing him in the opposite direction was the thought that he could still accomplish something with his plan of carefully selling off a large amount.
But he soon thought better of it, like some kind of cowardly hare.
Lawrence had no idea what Holo was thinking or where she had gone. People's hearts were not so easily understood. To think otherwise was to invite ruin.
And yet—Lawrence could not help thinking.
Expectation, suspicion, supposition, and reality were four hooks that tore at Lawrence's thoughts.
What would Holo the Wisewolf say at a time like this?
Pathetically, Lawrence couldn't help but wonder.