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

Input:
But the dockmaster did not give up so easily.
"Well, now, do wait just a moment, sir. I can tell sir is a trader of some repute. It would be rude of me to let sir leave empty-handed."
If Lawrence just refused the man, there was no telling how his reputation might spread around the city.
But the merchant blood fairly frothed in his veins.
Run, it said. This is dangerous.
"Not at all," replied Lawrence. "I'm a merchant with little besides complaints to sell."
It was only a third-rate merchant who was so clumsily self-effacing when selling. Humility was a virtue for men of the cloth, but for traders, it was like sticking one's head in a noose.
But Lawrence had judged that escape was the best plan. Holo's frozen posture reinforced this decision.
"Sir shouldn't sell himself so cheaply! Even a blind beggar could tell sir is a man of stature!"
"Flattery will get you nowhere," said Lawrence, sitting in the wagon seat and grabbing the reins. The dockmaster seemed to be able to tell that it was time to relent. He had been leaning forward so earnestly that he almost stumbled, but now he righted himself.
It seemed like Lawrence was off the hook, so he spoke briefly to the dockmaster. "Well, then, I'll take my leave..."
"Yes...most unfortunate. I await sir's return," said the dockmaster with an ingratiating smile. Lawrence took that as his cue to exit, so he started to move the wagon.
The dockmaster, however, took advantage of this small gap in Lawrence's defense. "I believe I forgot to ask sir's name," he said.
"Lawrence. From the Rowen Trade Guild."
Lawrence gave his name without thinking, then suddenly, he wondered if giving his name to someone he didn't know, in a situation he didn't understand, was a mistake—but he could think of no reason why it would matter.
Most likely, the dockmaster simply hadn't known what Lawrence had come to this place to do.
However—
"Lawrence, you say. Indeed. From the Latparron Company."
The dockmaster grinned unpleasantly.
The jolt that ran through Lawrence's spine was impossible to describe.
There was no reason he could think of for the dockmaster to know his name.
"You were bringing some armor to our company, yes?"
Lawrence was suddenly nauseated as he sensed he had fallen into some kind of trap. His instinct screamed it at him.
He looked slowly over to the dockmaster.
It can't be. It can't be. It can't be.
"Actually, last night a messenger on a fast horse came to us. The Latparron Company has had their obligations assigned to our company. So, you see, you have a debt to us, Mr. Lawrence."
With those words, everything changed.
Normally, obligation transfers did not take place over messenger horse. But the abnormality made the transfer all the more believable—for example, if two companies were engaging in fraud.
If Lawrence hadn't been sitting in the wagon, he would have collapsed.
Even sitting, he lurched over from the force of the words.
Holo, surprised, caught Lawrence as he toppled.
"What is wrong?" she asked.
He didn't want to consider it.
The dockmaster answered for him.
"The merchant beside you has failed at business—just like us." His happiness was clearly no more than schadenfreude.
"What?" asked Holo.
Lawrence wished desperately for this all to be a dream.
"The price of armor must have plunged some time ago. The old fox at Latparron shifted his dead stock onto us."
The future was dark.
"We've been had..."
Lawrence's hoarse voice was all that tied him to reality.
***
We both live by such agreements. You understand, right?"
These were the words every merchant feared.
And every merchant would lament his fate upon such a collapse.
"Of course I do. I'm a merchant, after all." It was all Lawrence could do to say even that much.

Output:
Remelio looked as stricken as Lawrence felt.
The man's eyes and cheeks were sunken, his shirt hadn't been changed in several days, and his eyes glittered strangely. He was not a big man to begin with, but Remelio's weary, thin features made him look like a wounded bear cub.
He didn't just seem wounded—he was wounded, nearly fatally.
Hans Remelio, the master of the Remelio Company, unconsciously ran his hand through his slightly graying hair as he continued to press Lawrence.
"We'd like you to settle your debt immediately. Otherwise..."
Lawrence thought about how much he would rather be threatened at knifepoint than hear this.
"...We'll have to demand that the Rowen Trade Guild assume the debt in your place."
It was the threat every merchant who was attached to a trading house feared.
The guild was a merchant's second home, but it could turn into an angry debt collector in the blink of an eye.
In that moment, merchants who go about their work, prepared to half abandon their homes, have nowhere to go for respite.
"Well, the term of the loan was through the day after tomorrow, so give me two days. I'll pay back the forty-seven and three-quarters lumione by then," said Lawrence.
It was not an amount he could hope to collect in two days. Even if he were to call in all the credit from every conceivable source he had, the money wouldn't amount to half of what he owed.
A person could live for three months on a single lumione. Even a child knew that forty-seven lumione was a huge amount of money.
As did the bearlike master of the company, Remelio.
Ruin.
The word seemed to hang before Lawrence's eyes.
"What do you wish to do with the armor you brought, Mr. Lawrence? It will only sell for a pittance if it even sells at all, regardless of where you go."
Remelio's thin, derisive smile was not meant to mock Lawrence.
After all, Remelio himself had been brought to the edge of ruin by the same plunge in armor prices that now threatened Lawrence.
Ruvinheigen served as a supply depot for knights, mercenaries, and missionaries heading north to suppress the pagans. Thus, armor and scriptures were reliable sources of profit.
Every winter there was a major campaign. The march was timed to coincide with the birthday of Saint Ruvinheigen, and in order to equip the mercenaries and knight brigades that amassed from surrounding nations, goods like armor, scriptures, rations, cold-weather clothes, horses, and medicine all flew off the shelves.
This year the march had been hastily canceled. There was political unrest in the nation that stretched out between the pagan territories and the Ruvinheigen-controlled land where the battles normally occurred, and that nation's disposition toward Ruvinheigen had suddenly soured. If it had been a normal nation that would have been one thing, but this particular nation bordered the pagan lands, and even within its borders, there were here and there pagan villages. One of the closest was Lamtra. Those who had to fight the pagans could cross into the other nation, but if they marched through it like they would any other year, there was no telling when the pagans, who silently watched them, might attack. The archbishop that controlled the grand diocese was in attendance, as were members of the imperial family from the south. They could not let the unthinkable happen.
Thus, the campaign was canceled.
As to how stricken the city's merchants were because of this decision, one had to look no further than the predicament of the Remelio Company, which had operated in Ruvinheigen for many years. Even so, Lawrence should have realized something was awry while he was traveling—if the mercenaries that fought in the battlegrounds of the north were wandering around Ruvinheigen, there had clearly been some kind of change in the battlefield.


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

Input:
Remelio looked as stricken as Lawrence felt.
The man's eyes and cheeks were sunken, his shirt hadn't been changed in several days, and his eyes glittered strangely. He was not a big man to begin with, but Remelio's weary, thin features made him look like a wounded bear cub.
He didn't just seem wounded—he was wounded, nearly fatally.
Hans Remelio, the master of the Remelio Company, unconsciously ran his hand through his slightly graying hair as he continued to press Lawrence.
"We'd like you to settle your debt immediately. Otherwise..."
Lawrence thought about how much he would rather be threatened at knifepoint than hear this.
"...We'll have to demand that the Rowen Trade Guild assume the debt in your place."
It was the threat every merchant who was attached to a trading house feared.
The guild was a merchant's second home, but it could turn into an angry debt collector in the blink of an eye.
In that moment, merchants who go about their work, prepared to half abandon their homes, have nowhere to go for respite.
"Well, the term of the loan was through the day after tomorrow, so give me two days. I'll pay back the forty-seven and three-quarters lumione by then," said Lawrence.
It was not an amount he could hope to collect in two days. Even if he were to call in all the credit from every conceivable source he had, the money wouldn't amount to half of what he owed.
A person could live for three months on a single lumione. Even a child knew that forty-seven lumione was a huge amount of money.
As did the bearlike master of the company, Remelio.
Ruin.
The word seemed to hang before Lawrence's eyes.
"What do you wish to do with the armor you brought, Mr. Lawrence? It will only sell for a pittance if it even sells at all, regardless of where you go."
Remelio's thin, derisive smile was not meant to mock Lawrence.
After all, Remelio himself had been brought to the edge of ruin by the same plunge in armor prices that now threatened Lawrence.
Ruvinheigen served as a supply depot for knights, mercenaries, and missionaries heading north to suppress the pagans. Thus, armor and scriptures were reliable sources of profit.
Every winter there was a major campaign. The march was timed to coincide with the birthday of Saint Ruvinheigen, and in order to equip the mercenaries and knight brigades that amassed from surrounding nations, goods like armor, scriptures, rations, cold-weather clothes, horses, and medicine all flew off the shelves.
This year the march had been hastily canceled. There was political unrest in the nation that stretched out between the pagan territories and the Ruvinheigen-controlled land where the battles normally occurred, and that nation's disposition toward Ruvinheigen had suddenly soured. If it had been a normal nation that would have been one thing, but this particular nation bordered the pagan lands, and even within its borders, there were here and there pagan villages. One of the closest was Lamtra. Those who had to fight the pagans could cross into the other nation, but if they marched through it like they would any other year, there was no telling when the pagans, who silently watched them, might attack. The archbishop that controlled the grand diocese was in attendance, as were members of the imperial family from the south. They could not let the unthinkable happen.
Thus, the campaign was canceled.
As to how stricken the city's merchants were because of this decision, one had to look no further than the predicament of the Remelio Company, which had operated in Ruvinheigen for many years. Even so, Lawrence should have realized something was awry while he was traveling—if the mercenaries that fought in the battlegrounds of the north were wandering around Ruvinheigen, there had clearly been some kind of change in the battlefield.

Output:
In other words, when he'd thought he was taking advantage of a weakness in order to force favorable terms for himself, he had actually been used.
Having sold devalued armor to Lawrence at such a price, the Latparron Company master was probably still laughing to himself. And because the price of armor had dropped so much, he knew that it would be either impossible for Lawrence to pay him back or would take a significant effort. Thus, he had sold the obligation to the long-standing Remelio Company, perhaps judging that it would salvage his position.
In the middle of all of this, Lawrence had drawn the worst lot.
It was a failure that made Lawrence want to tear his own limbs off.
And yet, Lawrence found some strength.
"I'll sell it high somewhere. You'll see. We'll settle the debt in two days. Will that do?"
"Yes, we'll be waiting."
You could have put out a fire with the cold sweat that both men were bathed in, but somehow they managed to preserve the decency of a business negotiation.
They were both people, after all.
However, they were also both merchants.
Lawrence stood, and Remelio gave him some parting words.
"I should say," he began, "that our company's stalls are near the city gates. If you plan to use them, do let us know."
In other words, don't try to run away.
"I expect I'll be busy with negotiations, so although I appreciate your informing me, I doubt I will use them." If Holo had been there, Lawrence would have had to laugh at the battle of wills, but as both he and Remelio were on edge, he had to be honest.
Bankruptcy meant death in society. It would be better to be a beggar, shivering from cold and hunger. If creditors caught up with you, they would sell off everything you owned. Even your hair would be cut off and sold for wigs—and if you had good teeth, they would be pulled and used for someone's dentures. Your very freedom could be sold, and you could be made to toil as a slave in a mine or aboard a ship. And even that wasn't the worst that could happen. If a nobleman or wealthy person demanded it, you might even pay with your very life—but you would have no grave, and none would mourn your passing.
That was the inevitable reality of bankruptcy.
"I'll take my leave, then," said Lawrence.
"We look forward to seeing you in two days. May God's protection go with you."
The weak devour the still weaker; it was the way of the world.
Nonetheless, Lawrence clenched his fists until his knuckles were white from the rage he felt.
But half of that anger was at himself. He could not undo this error.
Unescorted, he walked down from the negotiation room on the third floor to the loading dock on the first floor.
Holo was dressed as a town girl and was thus unable to be present for the negotiation; she waited in the driver's seat of the wagon, watched over by someone from the trading company. The moment Lawrence emerged onto the dock, Holo turned around with a start.
Lawrence wondered how terrible he must look.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, climbing onto the wagon. Holo gave a vague nod, peering at Lawrence curiously.
"Let's go."
Lawrence took the reins and ignored the dockmaster, heading the horse away from the loading dock. The dockmaster had apparently been informed of the situation in advance, so he silently watched Lawrence and Holo leave.
As they descended the slope from the dock down onto the cobbled street, Lawrence let slip a great sigh.
It escaped with all the anger, frustration, and regret piled up within him.
There was so much sheer defeat in the sigh that if a rabbit had been nearby, it might have died on the spot.
But it was not as though the sigh had taken Lawrence's merchant sense from him.
This was no time for despair. His mind swirled with cold fury as he began to calculate how he might raise the funds.
"...Hey."
A timid voice cut through his trance.
"Hm?"


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

Input:
In other words, when he'd thought he was taking advantage of a weakness in order to force favorable terms for himself, he had actually been used.
Having sold devalued armor to Lawrence at such a price, the Latparron Company master was probably still laughing to himself. And because the price of armor had dropped so much, he knew that it would be either impossible for Lawrence to pay him back or would take a significant effort. Thus, he had sold the obligation to the long-standing Remelio Company, perhaps judging that it would salvage his position.
In the middle of all of this, Lawrence had drawn the worst lot.
It was a failure that made Lawrence want to tear his own limbs off.
And yet, Lawrence found some strength.
"I'll sell it high somewhere. You'll see. We'll settle the debt in two days. Will that do?"
"Yes, we'll be waiting."
You could have put out a fire with the cold sweat that both men were bathed in, but somehow they managed to preserve the decency of a business negotiation.
They were both people, after all.
However, they were also both merchants.
Lawrence stood, and Remelio gave him some parting words.
"I should say," he began, "that our company's stalls are near the city gates. If you plan to use them, do let us know."
In other words, don't try to run away.
"I expect I'll be busy with negotiations, so although I appreciate your informing me, I doubt I will use them." If Holo had been there, Lawrence would have had to laugh at the battle of wills, but as both he and Remelio were on edge, he had to be honest.
Bankruptcy meant death in society. It would be better to be a beggar, shivering from cold and hunger. If creditors caught up with you, they would sell off everything you owned. Even your hair would be cut off and sold for wigs—and if you had good teeth, they would be pulled and used for someone's dentures. Your very freedom could be sold, and you could be made to toil as a slave in a mine or aboard a ship. And even that wasn't the worst that could happen. If a nobleman or wealthy person demanded it, you might even pay with your very life—but you would have no grave, and none would mourn your passing.
That was the inevitable reality of bankruptcy.
"I'll take my leave, then," said Lawrence.
"We look forward to seeing you in two days. May God's protection go with you."
The weak devour the still weaker; it was the way of the world.
Nonetheless, Lawrence clenched his fists until his knuckles were white from the rage he felt.
But half of that anger was at himself. He could not undo this error.
Unescorted, he walked down from the negotiation room on the third floor to the loading dock on the first floor.
Holo was dressed as a town girl and was thus unable to be present for the negotiation; she waited in the driver's seat of the wagon, watched over by someone from the trading company. The moment Lawrence emerged onto the dock, Holo turned around with a start.
Lawrence wondered how terrible he must look.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, climbing onto the wagon. Holo gave a vague nod, peering at Lawrence curiously.
"Let's go."
Lawrence took the reins and ignored the dockmaster, heading the horse away from the loading dock. The dockmaster had apparently been informed of the situation in advance, so he silently watched Lawrence and Holo leave.
As they descended the slope from the dock down onto the cobbled street, Lawrence let slip a great sigh.
It escaped with all the anger, frustration, and regret piled up within him.
There was so much sheer defeat in the sigh that if a rabbit had been nearby, it might have died on the spot.
But it was not as though the sigh had taken Lawrence's merchant sense from him.
This was no time for despair. His mind swirled with cold fury as he began to calculate how he might raise the funds.
"...Hey."
A timid voice cut through his trance.
"Hm?"

Output:
Lawrence imagined what he looked like to Holo.
Image was a merchant's life. He took his hands off the reins and forced himself to relax his tense facial muscles.
"If you want to know what happened, the load behind us is worthless."
"Mmph. Then I suppose I didn't hear wrong."
"Incidentally, this could mean bankruptcy for me."
Holo's face twisted, pained—perhaps she understood the sad fate that awaited the bankrupt, like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Then her expression changed.
Her cool wolf's eyes regarded Lawrence evenly.
"Will you run?"
"If I run once, I'll be on the run forever. The information networks of the trade guilds and companies are like the very eyes of God. No matter where I went, if I tried to do business, I'd be found out immediately. I'd never be able to be a merchant again."
"But the going rate for an injured animal to free itself is gnawing through its own limb. You won't content yourself with that?"
"Impossible," answered Lawrence flatly.
Holo turned away, as if thinking.
"If I pay back the equivalent of forty-seven lumione gold pieces, that'll be enough. I still have my goods on hand. I can settle my debts here and sell the armor somewhere far away, where it'll fetch a decent price. It's not impossible," said Lawrence, as if it were simple. In reality, the ease with which he explained it was equivalent to the impossibility of the task.
But he had no other choice. His merchant's spirit was part of it—if he tried to run, his life as a merchant was over. His only option was to struggle until the end.
After averting her gaze for a while, Holo turned back to Lawrence.
As if weary of looking at his stricken face, she smiled thinly. "I'm Holo the Wisewolf. I'm sure I can be of some help."
"This is rather different from covering your meals."
Holo jabbed Lawrence in his side with her fist. "I said all along I'd pay for my own food."
"I know, I know," replied Lawrence as he brushed her fist away.
Holo's eyebrows were raised as she sniffed slightly, her anger dissolved.
She looked expressionlessly at the horse. When she spoke, it was as though she was uttering a grave oath.
"If it becomes necessary, I swear on my honor to free you—even if I must use the power within this wheat."
Within the pouch that hung from Holo's neck was the wheat that contained her essence. If she used it, she could easily return to her true form.
Yet Holo loathed above all else the terrified gazes of those who saw that form. Those reactions were a prison that condemned her to loneliness. She had once returned to that shape deep in the underground canals beneath the port city of Pazzio, but that had been because Holo herself was in danger.
This was different. The danger now confronted Lawrence alone.
He was meekly gratified that Holo was prepared to go to such lengths for his sake.
"You promised to accompany me back to the northlands. I can't have you getting tripped up here."
"I'll keep that promise, and—"
Lawrence closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"—if it comes to it, I may need saving."
Lawrence felt a new sense of relief, knowing that there was someone he could rely on.
Holo grinned. "Count on it," she said.
Holo would come to his rescue.
That option did exist.
But it wasn't something he wanted to resort to. If the situation got that bad, it meant Lawrence's place in the world was entirely gone.
That was what it meant to have to leave your home, to desert your native soil. Failure left nothing behind.
"So, what will you do now?" asked Holo in front of the inn after they had left the wagon with the innkeeper.
It was exactly what Lawrence himself wanted to ask, but he had no time for such weakness.
The inn had been paid for up front, so they didn't have to immediately worry about where to sleep and stable the horse. He had a fair amount of cash on hand. It was fortune within misfortune that they wouldn't immediately lack for food and shelter.
But the remaining options were few and time in short supply.


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

Input:
Lawrence imagined what he looked like to Holo.
Image was a merchant's life. He took his hands off the reins and forced himself to relax his tense facial muscles.
"If you want to know what happened, the load behind us is worthless."
"Mmph. Then I suppose I didn't hear wrong."
"Incidentally, this could mean bankruptcy for me."
Holo's face twisted, pained—perhaps she understood the sad fate that awaited the bankrupt, like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Then her expression changed.
Her cool wolf's eyes regarded Lawrence evenly.
"Will you run?"
"If I run once, I'll be on the run forever. The information networks of the trade guilds and companies are like the very eyes of God. No matter where I went, if I tried to do business, I'd be found out immediately. I'd never be able to be a merchant again."
"But the going rate for an injured animal to free itself is gnawing through its own limb. You won't content yourself with that?"
"Impossible," answered Lawrence flatly.
Holo turned away, as if thinking.
"If I pay back the equivalent of forty-seven lumione gold pieces, that'll be enough. I still have my goods on hand. I can settle my debts here and sell the armor somewhere far away, where it'll fetch a decent price. It's not impossible," said Lawrence, as if it were simple. In reality, the ease with which he explained it was equivalent to the impossibility of the task.
But he had no other choice. His merchant's spirit was part of it—if he tried to run, his life as a merchant was over. His only option was to struggle until the end.
After averting her gaze for a while, Holo turned back to Lawrence.
As if weary of looking at his stricken face, she smiled thinly. "I'm Holo the Wisewolf. I'm sure I can be of some help."
"This is rather different from covering your meals."
Holo jabbed Lawrence in his side with her fist. "I said all along I'd pay for my own food."
"I know, I know," replied Lawrence as he brushed her fist away.
Holo's eyebrows were raised as she sniffed slightly, her anger dissolved.
She looked expressionlessly at the horse. When she spoke, it was as though she was uttering a grave oath.
"If it becomes necessary, I swear on my honor to free you—even if I must use the power within this wheat."
Within the pouch that hung from Holo's neck was the wheat that contained her essence. If she used it, she could easily return to her true form.
Yet Holo loathed above all else the terrified gazes of those who saw that form. Those reactions were a prison that condemned her to loneliness. She had once returned to that shape deep in the underground canals beneath the port city of Pazzio, but that had been because Holo herself was in danger.
This was different. The danger now confronted Lawrence alone.
He was meekly gratified that Holo was prepared to go to such lengths for his sake.
"You promised to accompany me back to the northlands. I can't have you getting tripped up here."
"I'll keep that promise, and—"
Lawrence closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"—if it comes to it, I may need saving."
Lawrence felt a new sense of relief, knowing that there was someone he could rely on.
Holo grinned. "Count on it," she said.
Holo would come to his rescue.
That option did exist.
But it wasn't something he wanted to resort to. If the situation got that bad, it meant Lawrence's place in the world was entirely gone.
That was what it meant to have to leave your home, to desert your native soil. Failure left nothing behind.
"So, what will you do now?" asked Holo in front of the inn after they had left the wagon with the innkeeper.
It was exactly what Lawrence himself wanted to ask, but he had no time for such weakness.
The inn had been paid for up front, so they didn't have to immediately worry about where to sleep and stable the horse. He had a fair amount of cash on hand. It was fortune within misfortune that they wouldn't immediately lack for food and shelter.
But the remaining options were few and time in short supply.

Output:
"Mm. If they're truly your comrades they'll come to your aid."
She meant it as encouragement, but Lawrence knew all too well that the world was not so simple. In his ten years spent in the world of merchants, he had seen any number of people whose support would disappear as soon as you found yourself in a predicament.
"Right, I'm heading out for a moment, so you just wait here—"
Holo stamped her foot before Lawrence could finish his sentence.
"Do I look like the kind of ungrateful wolf that lets her companion face a crisis alone?"
"No, but—"
"Do I?!"
She looked up at him, feet planted.
"You don't, but that's not the issue."
"What is the issue, then?"
She moved aside for the moment, but the look in her eyes made it clear that she would block him again depending on his answer.
"The guild house is like home for merchants like me. You understand what bringing a girl home means, right?"
"It is not as though I'm playing at ignorance of the situation."
"Explaining our situation is impossible! How am I supposed to account for my relationship to you?"
Holo would be burned at the stake as a demon if the Church was to find her. Although Jakob, who ran the guild house in this city, was an even more understanding man than himself, Lawrence knew that it would be a disaster if he for some reason decided to turn Holo in to the Church. And besides, many merchants from the Rowen area came through the guild—and not all of them were so understanding. He couldn't risk it.
Lawrence would have to engage in at least a bit of deception in order to explain his connection to Holo. But could he pull it off? Jakob could spot a lie a hundred leagues away.
"Just claim we're lovers, then. 'Tis better by far than being left here," said Holo.
It was clear she was worried about him.
Lawrence knew that if their positions were reversed, he would be angry if she tried to go off and solve her problems alone. He knew he would feel betrayed if she told him to "stay at the inn."
Holo averted her eyes.
He would just have to pray.
"Fine. Come along. You're the smart one, anyway."
"Mm. You can rely on me."
"However—" Lawrence stepped aside to allow a traveler to enter the inn "—this is a business meeting. Don't do anything crazy. That lot can give a rough welcome." Lawrence said this with a tone that made it clear he would brook no argument on the matter—his colleagues' idea of a welcome could be a real baptism by fire.
But Holo seemed happy as long as he was taking her with him. She nodded agreeably.
"Right then, let's go."
"Let's!"
The two walked off briskly and soon disappeared into the crowds.
Just as Lawrence was about to knock on the door of the guild house, someone came out.
It was obvious at a glance that he was a town merchant, but no sooner had he spotted Lawrence with surprise than his face soured and he looked away—he was clearly a messenger from the Remelio Company. The most likely scenario was that he had come to inform the guild of Lawrence's position and the possibility that the Remelio Company would turn to them to guarantee Lawrence's debt.
Lawrence said nothing, simply giving way to the man as though he was no one in particular.
The merchant himself would probably never have deigned to undertake such a role if his own company were not in such dire straits. As it was, though the Remelio Company was trying to force Lawrence to pay up, the man practically scurried away from Lawrence.
A person who liked bringing others to ruin was actually rare among merchants, who spent their days trying to outwit their competitors. Destruction and competition were totally different things.
"I daresay I thought he was going to take a swing at you." Holo seemed to have noticed that the man was from Remelio, but Lawrence only gave a pained grin at her joke.
"At least he spared us the trouble of explaining the worst of the news. I should thank him."
"I suppose it depends on perspective."
Finally able to smile, Lawrence entered the guild house.


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

Input:
"Mm. If they're truly your comrades they'll come to your aid."
She meant it as encouragement, but Lawrence knew all too well that the world was not so simple. In his ten years spent in the world of merchants, he had seen any number of people whose support would disappear as soon as you found yourself in a predicament.
"Right, I'm heading out for a moment, so you just wait here—"
Holo stamped her foot before Lawrence could finish his sentence.
"Do I look like the kind of ungrateful wolf that lets her companion face a crisis alone?"
"No, but—"
"Do I?!"
She looked up at him, feet planted.
"You don't, but that's not the issue."
"What is the issue, then?"
She moved aside for the moment, but the look in her eyes made it clear that she would block him again depending on his answer.
"The guild house is like home for merchants like me. You understand what bringing a girl home means, right?"
"It is not as though I'm playing at ignorance of the situation."
"Explaining our situation is impossible! How am I supposed to account for my relationship to you?"
Holo would be burned at the stake as a demon if the Church was to find her. Although Jakob, who ran the guild house in this city, was an even more understanding man than himself, Lawrence knew that it would be a disaster if he for some reason decided to turn Holo in to the Church. And besides, many merchants from the Rowen area came through the guild—and not all of them were so understanding. He couldn't risk it.
Lawrence would have to engage in at least a bit of deception in order to explain his connection to Holo. But could he pull it off? Jakob could spot a lie a hundred leagues away.
"Just claim we're lovers, then. 'Tis better by far than being left here," said Holo.
It was clear she was worried about him.
Lawrence knew that if their positions were reversed, he would be angry if she tried to go off and solve her problems alone. He knew he would feel betrayed if she told him to "stay at the inn."
Holo averted her eyes.
He would just have to pray.
"Fine. Come along. You're the smart one, anyway."
"Mm. You can rely on me."
"However—" Lawrence stepped aside to allow a traveler to enter the inn "—this is a business meeting. Don't do anything crazy. That lot can give a rough welcome." Lawrence said this with a tone that made it clear he would brook no argument on the matter—his colleagues' idea of a welcome could be a real baptism by fire.
But Holo seemed happy as long as he was taking her with him. She nodded agreeably.
"Right then, let's go."
"Let's!"
The two walked off briskly and soon disappeared into the crowds.
Just as Lawrence was about to knock on the door of the guild house, someone came out.
It was obvious at a glance that he was a town merchant, but no sooner had he spotted Lawrence with surprise than his face soured and he looked away—he was clearly a messenger from the Remelio Company. The most likely scenario was that he had come to inform the guild of Lawrence's position and the possibility that the Remelio Company would turn to them to guarantee Lawrence's debt.
Lawrence said nothing, simply giving way to the man as though he was no one in particular.
The merchant himself would probably never have deigned to undertake such a role if his own company were not in such dire straits. As it was, though the Remelio Company was trying to force Lawrence to pay up, the man practically scurried away from Lawrence.
A person who liked bringing others to ruin was actually rare among merchants, who spent their days trying to outwit their competitors. Destruction and competition were totally different things.
"I daresay I thought he was going to take a swing at you." Holo seemed to have noticed that the man was from Remelio, but Lawrence only gave a pained grin at her joke.
"At least he spared us the trouble of explaining the worst of the news. I should thank him."
"I suppose it depends on perspective."
Finally able to smile, Lawrence entered the guild house.

Output:
However, when Holo entered just behind him, the activity came to a sudden stop, and a strange commotion rippled through the assemblage. It was like a sigh. And the look—calling it "envy" or "jealousy" didn't do it justice. Holo was entirely indifferent to the situation, but Lawrence found it almost painful.
"Oh ho, this must be God's will."
Jakob was the first to speak—the smile he displayed failed to reach his eyes.
"You've caught a rare jewel here, Lawrence."
Holo ignored the myriad eyes fixed on her and walked smoothly toward Jakob, leading Lawrence by the hand.
The fact that Jakob had called him Lawrence rather than Kraft stabbed at him.
It meant that Jakob would no longer treat him as a member of the guild, but only as a merchant like any other.
"I didn't catch her—I was caught by her, Chief Tarantino."
Jakob grinned so widely his face became distorted, then he rose laboriously and patted Lawrence heavily on the shoulder, gesturing inside. "Let's talk."
The sharp-eyed merchants in the room had noticed the unusual mood of the exchange. None spoke.
Past the lobby was an enclosed courtyard. Looking out over the courtyard with its sparse seasonal decoration as he led them in, the giant Jakob spoke.
"Didn't you pass the fellow from the Remelio Company?"
"I did. At the front door."
"Ah. I thought you'd be lucky and miss him."
"...Why is that?" Lawrence didn't understand what Jakob was getting at, but he could see Jakob's shoulders shaking with mirth.
"Because there was no noise when we came to blows."
Holo smirked slightly, and Lawrence relaxed.
Jakob opened the door to a room on the right side of the hallway they were in and motioned for the two to enter.
"This is where I work. There'll be nobody to listen to our conversation here, so you can relax on that count," said Jakob.
It was not a large room, but it gave the impression of housing limitless knowledge.
Looking through the open door, they could see the walls were almost entirely covered with shelves, upon which rested carelessly stacked bundles of documents.
There was a small table in the middle of the room wedged between two simple couches of wood and leather construction.
Also facing the door was a desk piled high with a mountain of documents. Though paper was becoming less expensive with each passing year, there were still fine varieties to be had. It was proof that Jakob spared little expense in the preservation of knowledge. Even a well-regarded theologian might not have collected so much.
"Well, then, where shall we begin?"
Jakob faced the table and sat on one of the couches, which heaved a creaky sigh under his significant weight. Normally that was the seed from which a friendly chat would bloom, but in these circumstances, it was only the authority that bore down on Lawrence.
Lawrence was glad Holo was beside him.
If he had been alone, his mind might simply have gone blank.
"First, I'd sure like to know who and what that beauty of yours is." Jakob's gaze fixed steadily on Lawrence.
It was admittedly preposterous for a merchant facing bankruptcy to be walking around with a town girl. Were Jakob a less-patient man, he would have given Lawrence the boot as soon as he had shown up with Holo in tow.
"She's a business partner. We're traveling together."
"Ho, a business partner?" Jakob looked at Holo for the first time, seeming to think this was a grand joke. Holo smiled and inclined her head.
"The Milone Company in Pazzio offered me one hundred forty trenni for the furs I was selling, but in the end, they bought them for a full two hundred trenni. She's the one who made it happen."
Holo's face betrayed a certain amount of pride in opposition to Jakob's doubtful expression.
His doubt was understandable. If someone had told Lawrence a similar story, he would have assumed it to be a lie. The Milone Company was known in many nations, and those who worked for it were first-rate traders—bargaining them higher in price was not something that happened easily.


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

Input:
However, when Holo entered just behind him, the activity came to a sudden stop, and a strange commotion rippled through the assemblage. It was like a sigh. And the look—calling it "envy" or "jealousy" didn't do it justice. Holo was entirely indifferent to the situation, but Lawrence found it almost painful.
"Oh ho, this must be God's will."
Jakob was the first to speak—the smile he displayed failed to reach his eyes.
"You've caught a rare jewel here, Lawrence."
Holo ignored the myriad eyes fixed on her and walked smoothly toward Jakob, leading Lawrence by the hand.
The fact that Jakob had called him Lawrence rather than Kraft stabbed at him.
It meant that Jakob would no longer treat him as a member of the guild, but only as a merchant like any other.
"I didn't catch her—I was caught by her, Chief Tarantino."
Jakob grinned so widely his face became distorted, then he rose laboriously and patted Lawrence heavily on the shoulder, gesturing inside. "Let's talk."
The sharp-eyed merchants in the room had noticed the unusual mood of the exchange. None spoke.
Past the lobby was an enclosed courtyard. Looking out over the courtyard with its sparse seasonal decoration as he led them in, the giant Jakob spoke.
"Didn't you pass the fellow from the Remelio Company?"
"I did. At the front door."
"Ah. I thought you'd be lucky and miss him."
"...Why is that?" Lawrence didn't understand what Jakob was getting at, but he could see Jakob's shoulders shaking with mirth.
"Because there was no noise when we came to blows."
Holo smirked slightly, and Lawrence relaxed.
Jakob opened the door to a room on the right side of the hallway they were in and motioned for the two to enter.
"This is where I work. There'll be nobody to listen to our conversation here, so you can relax on that count," said Jakob.
It was not a large room, but it gave the impression of housing limitless knowledge.
Looking through the open door, they could see the walls were almost entirely covered with shelves, upon which rested carelessly stacked bundles of documents.
There was a small table in the middle of the room wedged between two simple couches of wood and leather construction.
Also facing the door was a desk piled high with a mountain of documents. Though paper was becoming less expensive with each passing year, there were still fine varieties to be had. It was proof that Jakob spared little expense in the preservation of knowledge. Even a well-regarded theologian might not have collected so much.
"Well, then, where shall we begin?"
Jakob faced the table and sat on one of the couches, which heaved a creaky sigh under his significant weight. Normally that was the seed from which a friendly chat would bloom, but in these circumstances, it was only the authority that bore down on Lawrence.
Lawrence was glad Holo was beside him.
If he had been alone, his mind might simply have gone blank.
"First, I'd sure like to know who and what that beauty of yours is." Jakob's gaze fixed steadily on Lawrence.
It was admittedly preposterous for a merchant facing bankruptcy to be walking around with a town girl. Were Jakob a less-patient man, he would have given Lawrence the boot as soon as he had shown up with Holo in tow.
"She's a business partner. We're traveling together."
"Ho, a business partner?" Jakob looked at Holo for the first time, seeming to think this was a grand joke. Holo smiled and inclined her head.
"The Milone Company in Pazzio offered me one hundred forty trenni for the furs I was selling, but in the end, they bought them for a full two hundred trenni. She's the one who made it happen."
Holo's face betrayed a certain amount of pride in opposition to Jakob's doubtful expression.
His doubt was understandable. If someone had told Lawrence a similar story, he would have assumed it to be a lie. The Milone Company was known in many nations, and those who worked for it were first-rate traders—bargaining them higher in price was not something that happened easily.

Output:
He had not thought about whether Holo would be angry at him for talking about it, but she seemed to understand that it was for expediency's sake.
Jakob closed his eyes, and strangely, his expression shifted.
"I don't need to know the details. Your like does show up every once in a while, after all."
"Huh?"
"One day they just show up at the guild, stunning beauty in tow, everything going well in business and life. And they never want to give details about the woman. So I don't ask anymore. The scriptures say not to open strange boxes, after all."
Lawrence wondered if it was a trick to make him tell the truth, but he didn't know what purpose it would serve. He tried to rethink his position.
Perhaps the story of the cart horse turning into the goddess of fortune and traveling with a merchant was true.
Lawrence himself was traveling with a wolf spirit who had taken the form of a girl. Merchants like him were too realistic to assume they were somehow special.
"'Tis a prudent decision," said Holo, which elicited a hearty laugh from Jakob.
"Well, then, let's speak frankly then, shall we? If you two were a couple, I'd have tried to convince you to head straight to the church and make it official. But if you're in business together, well, that's different. You'll hang together or hang separately—your partner's fall is your own misfortune. The bonds of gold run thicker than blood!"
Jakob's couch creaked.
"Let me get the story straight. The fellow from Remelio that just left told it like this: Kraft Lawrence, attached to the Rowen Trade Guild, bought one hundred lumione worth of armor from the Latparron Company in Poroson. We're liable for roughly half. Now the Remelio Company holds the debt. Is that it?"
Lawrence nodded painfully.
"I didn't hear what kind of armor it was, but the armor is going for about one-tenth what it previously was, so even if you sell it for that price, you've still got to make up about forty lumione. That comes out to fifteen hundred pieces of trenni silver."
After all was said and done, Lawrence had come away with about a thousand pieces of silver from the Pazzio affair. Even if he were able to repeat the stunt, there would be debt left over.
"It looks like you were completely taken in by the Latparron Company. I won't ask the details. From what I've heard, that won't change the situation. No matter what anyone thinks, you got greedy and made a mistake. Is that right?"
"It is, exactly."
Lawrence didn't try to make excuses. Saying he had become greedy and failed summed up his predicament precisely.
"If you understand that, this will be a simple conversation. You must pay back on your own the debt that the guild will, in all likelihood, shoulder. When you meet with fraud or extortion, when you become sick or injured and suffer losses, we in the trade guild put our credit on the line to save you. But not this time. The only ones to come to your aid now will be the gods—"
Jakob pointed a finger at Holo, who glanced at Lawrence.
"—or that beauty."
"I understand."
Unlike craft guilds, a regional trade guild was built around assurances of mutual assistance. It ran on contributions from its members, and as Jakob said, it gave aid to merchants who had suffered misfortune and would otherwise be unable to get by. Members would also assemble in foreign lands to protest unfair treatment.
The guild had not been created to guarantee the debts of merchants whose greed led them to ruin.
In such cases, even if the guild temporarily assumed the liability, it would pursue repayment relentlessly. The other guild members wouldn't stand for the loss, and it served as a lesson in the restraint of greed.
Jakob's eyes were like bows drawn tight.
"Unfortunately, I'm not in a position where I can show you any compassion—and the reason why I must be so strict is just outside in the lobby. It is guild law. If it became known that this trade house goes easy on its members, it would be a target for riffraff from all around."


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

Input:
He had not thought about whether Holo would be angry at him for talking about it, but she seemed to understand that it was for expediency's sake.
Jakob closed his eyes, and strangely, his expression shifted.
"I don't need to know the details. Your like does show up every once in a while, after all."
"Huh?"
"One day they just show up at the guild, stunning beauty in tow, everything going well in business and life. And they never want to give details about the woman. So I don't ask anymore. The scriptures say not to open strange boxes, after all."
Lawrence wondered if it was a trick to make him tell the truth, but he didn't know what purpose it would serve. He tried to rethink his position.
Perhaps the story of the cart horse turning into the goddess of fortune and traveling with a merchant was true.
Lawrence himself was traveling with a wolf spirit who had taken the form of a girl. Merchants like him were too realistic to assume they were somehow special.
"'Tis a prudent decision," said Holo, which elicited a hearty laugh from Jakob.
"Well, then, let's speak frankly then, shall we? If you two were a couple, I'd have tried to convince you to head straight to the church and make it official. But if you're in business together, well, that's different. You'll hang together or hang separately—your partner's fall is your own misfortune. The bonds of gold run thicker than blood!"
Jakob's couch creaked.
"Let me get the story straight. The fellow from Remelio that just left told it like this: Kraft Lawrence, attached to the Rowen Trade Guild, bought one hundred lumione worth of armor from the Latparron Company in Poroson. We're liable for roughly half. Now the Remelio Company holds the debt. Is that it?"
Lawrence nodded painfully.
"I didn't hear what kind of armor it was, but the armor is going for about one-tenth what it previously was, so even if you sell it for that price, you've still got to make up about forty lumione. That comes out to fifteen hundred pieces of trenni silver."
After all was said and done, Lawrence had come away with about a thousand pieces of silver from the Pazzio affair. Even if he were able to repeat the stunt, there would be debt left over.
"It looks like you were completely taken in by the Latparron Company. I won't ask the details. From what I've heard, that won't change the situation. No matter what anyone thinks, you got greedy and made a mistake. Is that right?"
"It is, exactly."
Lawrence didn't try to make excuses. Saying he had become greedy and failed summed up his predicament precisely.
"If you understand that, this will be a simple conversation. You must pay back on your own the debt that the guild will, in all likelihood, shoulder. When you meet with fraud or extortion, when you become sick or injured and suffer losses, we in the trade guild put our credit on the line to save you. But not this time. The only ones to come to your aid now will be the gods—"
Jakob pointed a finger at Holo, who glanced at Lawrence.
"—or that beauty."
"I understand."
Unlike craft guilds, a regional trade guild was built around assurances of mutual assistance. It ran on contributions from its members, and as Jakob said, it gave aid to merchants who had suffered misfortune and would otherwise be unable to get by. Members would also assemble in foreign lands to protest unfair treatment.
The guild had not been created to guarantee the debts of merchants whose greed led them to ruin.
In such cases, even if the guild temporarily assumed the liability, it would pursue repayment relentlessly. The other guild members wouldn't stand for the loss, and it served as a lesson in the restraint of greed.
Jakob's eyes were like bows drawn tight.
"Unfortunately, I'm not in a position where I can show you any compassion—and the reason why I must be so strict is just outside in the lobby. It is guild law. If it became known that this trade house goes easy on its members, it would be a target for riffraff from all around."

Output:
Lawrence put on a brave face, for if he didn't, he would have collapsed.
"Also, you surely know this, but guild members are forbidden from lending money to each other. Neither can the guild lend you money. It would set a bad example."
"I understand."
Lawrence's second home was barring its doors to him.
"Based on what the Remelio Company messenger told me, your obligation comes due in two days. Their own investments in armor have failed, so they're feeling the heat as well. They won't hesitate in demanding repayment. In other words, your failure will become public the day after tomorrow, and I'll have to detain you. What have you concluded from this?"
"If I do not collect forty-seven lumione in two days and pay the Remelio Company back, there is no future for me," said Lawrence.
Jakob shook his head slowly, then looked down at the table. "That's not quite true."
There was a slight rustling sound next to Lawrence; probably Holo's tail.
"You future will come," continued Jakob. "But it will be black, bitter, and heavy."
The implicit message was that suicide in the face of this bankruptcy would not be acceptable.
"Forty-seven lumione could be paid off in ten years of rowing on a trade ship—or working in a mine. Of course, you'd have to avoid injury and sickness."
Anyone who had ever seen correspondence between a ship's captain and its owner knew that was pure fantasy. Nine-tenths of such correspondence was devoted to the captain requesting fresh rowers and the owner trying to make them last a little longer.
About 80 percent of rowers on long-distance ships were worthless after two years, another 10 percent were finished after two more years, and the remaining 10 percent—unbelievably strong-bodied men—wound up on antipirate vessels and never returned. And even that was preferable to mine labor. Most miners died of lung disease within a year, and the lucky few who avoided such a fate died in collapsed tunnels.
In contrast, some who encountered misfortune might have their trade house cover their debts and then gradually repay their creditors at low interest—far better treatment.
Those who failed as a consequence of greed had to understand the seriousness of their crime.
"But it is not as though I wish death on you. Don't forget that. A sin must be punished—and it is my duty to enforce that simple principle."
"I understand."
Lawrence looked into Jakob's eyes. For the first time, a flicker of empathy appeared there.
"There's nothing I can do besides wish you luck over the next two days, but if there is anything I can do, I will. Standard business assistance is no problem. Also, I trust you. I ought to tie you up for the next two days, but you can go free."
The word trust weighed heavily on Lawrence's shoulders.
Holo had promised to rescue him if it came to that.
But taking her up on that offer meant betraying the trust Jakob was showing him.
Lawrence wondered if he could do that.
He unconsciously muttered the problem to himself before speaking up.
"I thank you for your consideration. I'll try to find the money in the next two days, somehow."
"There are always possibilities in business—and some you can only see when you are in true danger."
Lawrence's heart thudded at the statement. It could be interpreted as suggesting illegal activity.
As the master of the Ruvinheigen branch of the Rowen Trade Guild, Jakob had to confront Lawrence with harsh reality, but he was also worried about the young merchant. A person who was capable only of severity would be unfit to be the master of the merchants' second home.
"Have you anything you want to ask or say?"
Lawrence shook his head, but then spoke as something suddenly occurred to him.
"I want you to think of what you'll say when I repay the money."
Jakob blinked, then laughed loudly. The inappropriate timing of the joke made it all the funnier.
"I'll think of something, don't you worry! And you, my dear, have you anything to say?"


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

Input:
Lawrence put on a brave face, for if he didn't, he would have collapsed.
"Also, you surely know this, but guild members are forbidden from lending money to each other. Neither can the guild lend you money. It would set a bad example."
"I understand."
Lawrence's second home was barring its doors to him.
"Based on what the Remelio Company messenger told me, your obligation comes due in two days. Their own investments in armor have failed, so they're feeling the heat as well. They won't hesitate in demanding repayment. In other words, your failure will become public the day after tomorrow, and I'll have to detain you. What have you concluded from this?"
"If I do not collect forty-seven lumione in two days and pay the Remelio Company back, there is no future for me," said Lawrence.
Jakob shook his head slowly, then looked down at the table. "That's not quite true."
There was a slight rustling sound next to Lawrence; probably Holo's tail.
"You future will come," continued Jakob. "But it will be black, bitter, and heavy."
The implicit message was that suicide in the face of this bankruptcy would not be acceptable.
"Forty-seven lumione could be paid off in ten years of rowing on a trade ship—or working in a mine. Of course, you'd have to avoid injury and sickness."
Anyone who had ever seen correspondence between a ship's captain and its owner knew that was pure fantasy. Nine-tenths of such correspondence was devoted to the captain requesting fresh rowers and the owner trying to make them last a little longer.
About 80 percent of rowers on long-distance ships were worthless after two years, another 10 percent were finished after two more years, and the remaining 10 percent—unbelievably strong-bodied men—wound up on antipirate vessels and never returned. And even that was preferable to mine labor. Most miners died of lung disease within a year, and the lucky few who avoided such a fate died in collapsed tunnels.
In contrast, some who encountered misfortune might have their trade house cover their debts and then gradually repay their creditors at low interest—far better treatment.
Those who failed as a consequence of greed had to understand the seriousness of their crime.
"But it is not as though I wish death on you. Don't forget that. A sin must be punished—and it is my duty to enforce that simple principle."
"I understand."
Lawrence looked into Jakob's eyes. For the first time, a flicker of empathy appeared there.
"There's nothing I can do besides wish you luck over the next two days, but if there is anything I can do, I will. Standard business assistance is no problem. Also, I trust you. I ought to tie you up for the next two days, but you can go free."
The word trust weighed heavily on Lawrence's shoulders.
Holo had promised to rescue him if it came to that.
But taking her up on that offer meant betraying the trust Jakob was showing him.
Lawrence wondered if he could do that.
He unconsciously muttered the problem to himself before speaking up.
"I thank you for your consideration. I'll try to find the money in the next two days, somehow."
"There are always possibilities in business—and some you can only see when you are in true danger."
Lawrence's heart thudded at the statement. It could be interpreted as suggesting illegal activity.
As the master of the Ruvinheigen branch of the Rowen Trade Guild, Jakob had to confront Lawrence with harsh reality, but he was also worried about the young merchant. A person who was capable only of severity would be unfit to be the master of the merchants' second home.
"Have you anything you want to ask or say?"
Lawrence shook his head, but then spoke as something suddenly occurred to him.
"I want you to think of what you'll say when I repay the money."
Jakob blinked, then laughed loudly. The inappropriate timing of the joke made it all the funnier.
"I'll think of something, don't you worry! And you, my dear, have you anything to say?"

Output:
"Right, that should wrap things up. We shouldn't talk too long. They're a suspicious lot out there, you know. If rumors get around, it'll be harder for you to act."
Jakob stood from the couch, which creaked again. Lawrence and Holo did likewise.
Jakob and Lawrence knew it was a bad idea for merchants to wear dark expressions, so they made every effort to appear normal, as if the business they had just discussed was nothing more than a bit of small talk.
When they reached the lobby, Jakob returned to his usual spot and waved Lawrence off lightly.
Yet the people drinking wine in the lobby said nothing to him, as if they had sensed something was amiss.
Lawrence felt the weight of eyes on his back; he closed the door behind him and Holo as if to seal the guild members away.
They might even have been thinking about restraining him. He couldn't help but feel grateful at Jakob's generosity in letting him go free.
"Well, we've got two days of freedom. We've no choice but to see what we can do with it," murmured Lawrence to himself, but the notion of raising forty-seven lumione without any capital was delusional at best.
If there were any such method, the beggars of the world would all be rich men.
Yet he had to think of something.
If he didn't, his future wasn't worth contemplating.
His dream of having a shop would collapse; his recovery as a merchant would be hopeless; and his life would end either in the gloom of a mine shaft or the bowels of a ship, where the cries of anguish were said to drown out the crashing of the waves.
He tried to buck himself up, to put on a brave face, but the more he tried to reassure himself, the more the impossibility of his situation closed in around him.
Jakob trusted Lawrence enough to give him his freedom for two days.
But now Lawrence began to wonder if it was just Jakob giving a doomed man his last days of freedom. As he thought about it realistically, raising forty-seven lumione in two days seemed impossible.
He noticed his hand was trembling.
Shamed, Lawrence made a fist to stop the shaking. Then a small hand rested atop his.
It was Holo—he suddenly remembered she was there.
He wasn't alone.
Coming to that realization, Lawrence found the composure to take a deep breath.
At this rate, he would break his promise to accompany Holo to the northlands.
His frozen mind began to turn. Holo noticed this and spoke.
"So. What will you do?"
"First, before we do any more thinking, we need to test something."
"And that is?" Holo asked, looking up to Lawrence.
"Debt for debt."
None can feel at ease when lending large amounts of money unless they are very wealthy or generous indeed.
On the other hand, one does not nag for repayment of a trivial loan unless they are especially petty or especially strapped for cash.
Debt was like a looming mud slide. Even if it were impossible to stop, if one could manage to divert it into other rivers, it could be managed.
One way to manage a debt of forty-seven lumione would be to borrow small amounts from many different people to pay it off and then gradually pay each lender off in turn.
However.
"Well, well, Lawrence! It's been a while. What's your angle today?"
Every merchant Lawrence knew greeted him roughly the same upon seeing his face again, but when the talk came of lending their expressions grew grim.
"Five lumione? Sorry, friend, times are tough for me at the moment. It's the end of the year, prices of wheat and meat are up, and I've got to lay in stock for spring. Sorry, I just..."
Everyone gave the same answer, as if their responses had been prearranged. They were merchants just like him, sensitive to exactly what he was trying. If traveling merchants could just head to a company and borrow money instead of borrowing from their guild, that would put the trade companies in the same position that forced guilds to have rules against lending.
And no one wanted to load their goods aboard a sinking ship.


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

Input:
"Right, that should wrap things up. We shouldn't talk too long. They're a suspicious lot out there, you know. If rumors get around, it'll be harder for you to act."
Jakob stood from the couch, which creaked again. Lawrence and Holo did likewise.
Jakob and Lawrence knew it was a bad idea for merchants to wear dark expressions, so they made every effort to appear normal, as if the business they had just discussed was nothing more than a bit of small talk.
When they reached the lobby, Jakob returned to his usual spot and waved Lawrence off lightly.
Yet the people drinking wine in the lobby said nothing to him, as if they had sensed something was amiss.
Lawrence felt the weight of eyes on his back; he closed the door behind him and Holo as if to seal the guild members away.
They might even have been thinking about restraining him. He couldn't help but feel grateful at Jakob's generosity in letting him go free.
"Well, we've got two days of freedom. We've no choice but to see what we can do with it," murmured Lawrence to himself, but the notion of raising forty-seven lumione without any capital was delusional at best.
If there were any such method, the beggars of the world would all be rich men.
Yet he had to think of something.
If he didn't, his future wasn't worth contemplating.
His dream of having a shop would collapse; his recovery as a merchant would be hopeless; and his life would end either in the gloom of a mine shaft or the bowels of a ship, where the cries of anguish were said to drown out the crashing of the waves.
He tried to buck himself up, to put on a brave face, but the more he tried to reassure himself, the more the impossibility of his situation closed in around him.
Jakob trusted Lawrence enough to give him his freedom for two days.
But now Lawrence began to wonder if it was just Jakob giving a doomed man his last days of freedom. As he thought about it realistically, raising forty-seven lumione in two days seemed impossible.
He noticed his hand was trembling.
Shamed, Lawrence made a fist to stop the shaking. Then a small hand rested atop his.
It was Holo—he suddenly remembered she was there.
He wasn't alone.
Coming to that realization, Lawrence found the composure to take a deep breath.
At this rate, he would break his promise to accompany Holo to the northlands.
His frozen mind began to turn. Holo noticed this and spoke.
"So. What will you do?"
"First, before we do any more thinking, we need to test something."
"And that is?" Holo asked, looking up to Lawrence.
"Debt for debt."
None can feel at ease when lending large amounts of money unless they are very wealthy or generous indeed.
On the other hand, one does not nag for repayment of a trivial loan unless they are especially petty or especially strapped for cash.
Debt was like a looming mud slide. Even if it were impossible to stop, if one could manage to divert it into other rivers, it could be managed.
One way to manage a debt of forty-seven lumione would be to borrow small amounts from many different people to pay it off and then gradually pay each lender off in turn.
However.
"Well, well, Lawrence! It's been a while. What's your angle today?"
Every merchant Lawrence knew greeted him roughly the same upon seeing his face again, but when the talk came of lending their expressions grew grim.
"Five lumione? Sorry, friend, times are tough for me at the moment. It's the end of the year, prices of wheat and meat are up, and I've got to lay in stock for spring. Sorry, I just..."
Everyone gave the same answer, as if their responses had been prearranged. They were merchants just like him, sensitive to exactly what he was trying. If traveling merchants could just head to a company and borrow money instead of borrowing from their guild, that would put the trade companies in the same position that forced guilds to have rules against lending.
And no one wanted to load their goods aboard a sinking ship.

Output:
With no island to cling to, he was often just kicked out or sent off.
One who came not for commerce or negotiation but simply to borrow was little more than a thief.
That was common sense in the world of merchants.
"We'll try another one."
After Lawrence met back up with Holo, who waited outside the row of companies and mansions, he didn't bother with a fifth rendition of that same line.
He had only put on a brave face for the first three stops, and Holo stopped asking him how it had gone after four.
As a "by the way" to his request for a short-term loan, Lawrence had asked after any opportunities for profit, but that, too, had withered into silence. After all, merchants used capital to turn a profit. It was obvious that without money on hand, there was nothing to be done.
Lawrence unconsciously quickened his pace as he walked, opening a bit of distance between himself and Holo.
When he noticed, he told himself to calm down, but the words merely echoed in his empty mind, and he began to find Holo's words of encouragement irritating.
He was in a bad way.
Despite the chilly air that descended as night drew near, Lawrence's forehead and throat were slick with sweat.
Though he had thought himself prepared, the reality of his circumstances affected him more than he'd anticipated. The seriousness of the situation seemed to spill out of him like water from an overtaxed ceramic cup.
Why had he made that deal in Poroson? The feelings of regret warred with the uselessness of such recriminations within him.
Again, Holo's voice reminded Lawrence that he had put too much distance between them. He was assailed by an exhaustion that made him wonder if he would ever be able to walk again were he to stop.
But he had no time for exhaustion.
"Excuse me," Lawrence asked at yet another door.
The bell signaling the close of the market rang; all the companies would soon be closing their doors for the day.
The ninth location Lawrence visited was already tidying up its loading dock, and a wooden sign was posted on the entrance, indicating that the day's trading was over.
A trading company was home to the master and men working there, so it wasn't as if no one was about. Lawrence used the knocker and took a deep breath.
He hadn't many acquaintances left. The merchant had to get someone to lend him money.
"Who is there?" asked the woman who opened the door. She was well built, and Lawrence remembered her face.
Just as Lawrence steeled himself to ask after the master, the woman looked back over her shoulder. Flustered, she went back into the house.
In her place appeared the master of the company.
"It has been a while, Mr. Lawrence."
"It has. I'm very sorry to trouble you after the market's closed, but I have a favor to ask..."
The first couple of stops Lawrence made, he had had the luxury of beginning with small talk, feigning normal business.
But he no longer possessed such a luxury. As he plunged into his request, the master regarded him scornfully.
"I happened to hear that you've been making the rounds with your request."
"Er, yes...though it embarrasses me to say so..."
The ties between merchant companies in a city were strong. The master had clearly heard from one of the companies Lawrence visited earlier.
"And it's a sizable amount. Is this because of the drop in armor prices, I wonder?"
"Yes. I was naive and made a mistake."
Even if he had to grovel and throw himself on the mercy of others, Lawrence had to borrow the money. Starting penniless and raising forty-seven lumione in two days was simply impossible.
And if he was refused here, he would be turned away at the gates everywhere else.
If even one of the other companies had lent to him, Lawrence felt that others would have too. But the fact that none had offered him aid made him wonder if they all thought his recovery so impossible that they wouldn't bother lending.
Merchant companies were closely connected. Once a piece of information escaped, the news would be all over town in an instant.


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

Input:
With no island to cling to, he was often just kicked out or sent off.
One who came not for commerce or negotiation but simply to borrow was little more than a thief.
That was common sense in the world of merchants.
"We'll try another one."
After Lawrence met back up with Holo, who waited outside the row of companies and mansions, he didn't bother with a fifth rendition of that same line.
He had only put on a brave face for the first three stops, and Holo stopped asking him how it had gone after four.
As a "by the way" to his request for a short-term loan, Lawrence had asked after any opportunities for profit, but that, too, had withered into silence. After all, merchants used capital to turn a profit. It was obvious that without money on hand, there was nothing to be done.
Lawrence unconsciously quickened his pace as he walked, opening a bit of distance between himself and Holo.
When he noticed, he told himself to calm down, but the words merely echoed in his empty mind, and he began to find Holo's words of encouragement irritating.
He was in a bad way.
Despite the chilly air that descended as night drew near, Lawrence's forehead and throat were slick with sweat.
Though he had thought himself prepared, the reality of his circumstances affected him more than he'd anticipated. The seriousness of the situation seemed to spill out of him like water from an overtaxed ceramic cup.
Why had he made that deal in Poroson? The feelings of regret warred with the uselessness of such recriminations within him.
Again, Holo's voice reminded Lawrence that he had put too much distance between them. He was assailed by an exhaustion that made him wonder if he would ever be able to walk again were he to stop.
But he had no time for exhaustion.
"Excuse me," Lawrence asked at yet another door.
The bell signaling the close of the market rang; all the companies would soon be closing their doors for the day.
The ninth location Lawrence visited was already tidying up its loading dock, and a wooden sign was posted on the entrance, indicating that the day's trading was over.
A trading company was home to the master and men working there, so it wasn't as if no one was about. Lawrence used the knocker and took a deep breath.
He hadn't many acquaintances left. The merchant had to get someone to lend him money.
"Who is there?" asked the woman who opened the door. She was well built, and Lawrence remembered her face.
Just as Lawrence steeled himself to ask after the master, the woman looked back over her shoulder. Flustered, she went back into the house.
In her place appeared the master of the company.
"It has been a while, Mr. Lawrence."
"It has. I'm very sorry to trouble you after the market's closed, but I have a favor to ask..."
The first couple of stops Lawrence made, he had had the luxury of beginning with small talk, feigning normal business.
But he no longer possessed such a luxury. As he plunged into his request, the master regarded him scornfully.
"I happened to hear that you've been making the rounds with your request."
"Er, yes...though it embarrasses me to say so..."
The ties between merchant companies in a city were strong. The master had clearly heard from one of the companies Lawrence visited earlier.
"And it's a sizable amount. Is this because of the drop in armor prices, I wonder?"
"Yes. I was naive and made a mistake."
Even if he had to grovel and throw himself on the mercy of others, Lawrence had to borrow the money. Starting penniless and raising forty-seven lumione in two days was simply impossible.
And if he was refused here, he would be turned away at the gates everywhere else.
If even one of the other companies had lent to him, Lawrence felt that others would have too. But the fact that none had offered him aid made him wonder if they all thought his recovery so impossible that they wouldn't bother lending.
Merchant companies were closely connected. Once a piece of information escaped, the news would be all over town in an instant.

Output:
"A naive mistake? I suppose it was at that."
This was something that it didn't take the skill of a merchant used to discerning others' feelings to grasp.
This was not the tone of a man prepared to lend money.
The master furrowed his brow and let slip an exasperated sigh. It seemed as if he might have known that Lawrence had gotten greedy and amassed an oppressive debt by buying armor on margin.
Trustworthiness was a merchant's life. If you couldn't be trusted, none would extend their hand to aid you.
And your debt was your own responsibility—if you couldn't pay it back, it was your own fault.
Lawrence hung his head, feeling the strength drain from him like so much water.
The master continued speaking.
"Yet only the gods can predict a sudden fall in price. It's unfair to rebuke you for being unable to do so."
Lawrence looked up in spite of himself. He saw a glimmer of hope. If he could get a loan here, it would be easier to get loans from others, and his skill as a traveling merchant would be acknowledged to a degree. If he promised to pay it back with interest, he might yet save himself.
Hope, he thought, dangled now before his eyes.
But when he looked at the master, the face that greeted him held only scorn in its eyes.
"If you're in trouble, Mr. Lawrence, I thought that I might be able to be of some help to you. You've helped me turn a profit many a time. But while I'm a merchant, I also live by the teachings of God, and I need to know your sincerity."
Lawrence did not understand what he was hearing, but nonetheless, he frantically began to formulate an excuse when he was cut off by the particularly mercantile form of the master's speech.
"You've got a woman in tow even as you make the rounds, depending on the compassion of others to lend you money? Preposterous. How far the Rowen Trade Guild has fallen!"
The words froze Lawrence cold as the master slammed the door in his face.
He could neither move forward nor backward.
It was as though he'd forgotten to breathe.
The closed door was so quiet it seemed painted on stone. It was surely as cold and heavy as stone. The door would not open again; Lawrence's connections with the merchants of the city had been cut.
They would lend him no money.
He backed away unsteadily from the door, not of his own volition, but rather because his body seemed to move on its own. When he finally noticed his surroundings, he was standing in the middle of the street.
"Don't just stand in the middle of the road!" the driver of a horse-drawn cart shouted at him, and like a stray dog, Lawrence moved to the edge of the lane.
What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?
The words passed endlessly before his eyes.
"Hey there. Are you all right?"
At the sound of the voice, Lawrence started.
"Your face is quite pale. Let's hie to the inn—"
Holo extended her hand by way of comfort, but Lawrence slapped it away.
"If only you hadn't—," he shouted. But by the time he realized his error, he was too late.
Holo looked at him as though she had been stabbed though the heart. Having nowhere to go, her hand hovered there in midair for a moment before she slowly lowered it.
She looked down, her face blank with neither anger or sadness on it.
"I'm...sorry...," she managed in a strangled voice, but she did not offer her hand again.
Lawrence could do nothing but curse himself.
The sound of the appalling thing he had done pressed in on him.
"...I'm going back to the inn," announced Holo quietly, walking off without a second look at Lawrence.
Holo could hear conversations within the next building, so she had certainly heard Lawrence's exchange with the master.
Of course, she would feel responsible and want to get away—she had been worried enough about him to accompany him, after all.


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

Input:
"A naive mistake? I suppose it was at that."
This was something that it didn't take the skill of a merchant used to discerning others' feelings to grasp.
This was not the tone of a man prepared to lend money.
The master furrowed his brow and let slip an exasperated sigh. It seemed as if he might have known that Lawrence had gotten greedy and amassed an oppressive debt by buying armor on margin.
Trustworthiness was a merchant's life. If you couldn't be trusted, none would extend their hand to aid you.
And your debt was your own responsibility—if you couldn't pay it back, it was your own fault.
Lawrence hung his head, feeling the strength drain from him like so much water.
The master continued speaking.
"Yet only the gods can predict a sudden fall in price. It's unfair to rebuke you for being unable to do so."
Lawrence looked up in spite of himself. He saw a glimmer of hope. If he could get a loan here, it would be easier to get loans from others, and his skill as a traveling merchant would be acknowledged to a degree. If he promised to pay it back with interest, he might yet save himself.
Hope, he thought, dangled now before his eyes.
But when he looked at the master, the face that greeted him held only scorn in its eyes.
"If you're in trouble, Mr. Lawrence, I thought that I might be able to be of some help to you. You've helped me turn a profit many a time. But while I'm a merchant, I also live by the teachings of God, and I need to know your sincerity."
Lawrence did not understand what he was hearing, but nonetheless, he frantically began to formulate an excuse when he was cut off by the particularly mercantile form of the master's speech.
"You've got a woman in tow even as you make the rounds, depending on the compassion of others to lend you money? Preposterous. How far the Rowen Trade Guild has fallen!"
The words froze Lawrence cold as the master slammed the door in his face.
He could neither move forward nor backward.
It was as though he'd forgotten to breathe.
The closed door was so quiet it seemed painted on stone. It was surely as cold and heavy as stone. The door would not open again; Lawrence's connections with the merchants of the city had been cut.
They would lend him no money.
He backed away unsteadily from the door, not of his own volition, but rather because his body seemed to move on its own. When he finally noticed his surroundings, he was standing in the middle of the street.
"Don't just stand in the middle of the road!" the driver of a horse-drawn cart shouted at him, and like a stray dog, Lawrence moved to the edge of the lane.
What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?
The words passed endlessly before his eyes.
"Hey there. Are you all right?"
At the sound of the voice, Lawrence started.
"Your face is quite pale. Let's hie to the inn—"
Holo extended her hand by way of comfort, but Lawrence slapped it away.
"If only you hadn't—," he shouted. But by the time he realized his error, he was too late.
Holo looked at him as though she had been stabbed though the heart. Having nowhere to go, her hand hovered there in midair for a moment before she slowly lowered it.
She looked down, her face blank with neither anger or sadness on it.
"I'm...sorry...," she managed in a strangled voice, but she did not offer her hand again.
Lawrence could do nothing but curse himself.
The sound of the appalling thing he had done pressed in on him.
"...I'm going back to the inn," announced Holo quietly, walking off without a second look at Lawrence.
Holo could hear conversations within the next building, so she had certainly heard Lawrence's exchange with the master.
Of course, she would feel responsible and want to get away—she had been worried enough about him to accompany him, after all.

Output:
He couldn't find the words to speak to Holo, whose back was disappearing into the crowds—and he didn't have the courage, either.
Lawrence cursed himself again.
If the goddess of fortune existed, Lawrence wanted to punch her square in the face.
Lawrence finally returned to the inn only after the stalls that had permission to conduct business past sunset had closed their doors for the day.
He wanted to drown himself in wine, but he had no money and sensed that it would be a kind of betrayal.
Standing drunkenly before Holo—that was something he simply could not do.
It was his visits to the various trade companies that had kept him out so late.
If he abandoned pride and dignity altogether, he reasoned they would give him a bit of money simply to be rid of him.
In the end he'd gotten three lumione from four people. Three of them had told him he didn't need to bother returning it. They knew who was borrowing, after all.
His goal of forty-seven lumione was still clearly distant. He had to take this small amount and multiply it significantly in the little time that remained. It was not as if his situation had improved. The relationships he had destroyed in order to raise even this much money were important, even necessary, for doing business.
There were essentially no legitimate opportunities that remained for making more money.
And in any case, there was something that had to be considered before that—something that had to be regained before he could even think of making more money—which is why he had gone thither and yon asking after loans with no care for the consequences.
The memory of how Holo's hand felt when he unwittingly drove her away came back to him. Pain swirled in his chest, seeming to pierce his very heart.
When Lawrence entered the inn's lobby, the sleepy innkeeper stood behind his counter, enduring a large yawn. The city required that the innkeeper remain awake until all the guests had returned to the inn. If a guest hadn't returned by the next day, the town guard had to be notified.
It was a precaution against thieves and criminals entering the city and perpetrating foul deeds.
"Well, you're back early" came the sarcastic greeting from the innkeeper. Lawrence waved it off and headed to his room.
It was a single room on the third floor. Lawrence didn't want to consider the possibility that Holo had simply gone off somewhere else.
For the second time that day, he took a deep breath and opened the door.
Whether he opened the door slowly or quickly, the creaking would have been the same, so he did it briskly and entered.
Between the terrible building conditions and the huge number of travelers who passed through Ruvinheigen, a room with a bed was already fairly luxurious. This room, with its crude bed in the center, had a simple table by the window and still cost a pretty penny.
But now Lawrence was grateful it was so small.
If it had been even a little bit bigger, he probably would have hesitated to speak.
Holo was curled up on the bed, illuminated faintly by the moonlight that entered through a crack in the shuttered window.
"Holo."
The brief utterance diffused in the small, dark room, and Lawrence was beset by the illusion that he had never said anything at all.
On the bed, Holo did not so much as move.
If she had never wanted to see his face again, she would not have come back to the inn. The fact that she was curled up there on the bed soothed him that much at least.
"I'm sorry."
Those were the only words he had, all he could think of to say, but Holo remained still.
He could not imagine that she was sleeping, so he took one step toward the bed and gulped.
Instantly, he felt a sharp sensation at his feet. He stepped back quickly as a sweaty chill ran up his spine, and the frightening feeling vanished.
He looked back and forth between Holo and his feet.


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

Input:
He couldn't find the words to speak to Holo, whose back was disappearing into the crowds—and he didn't have the courage, either.
Lawrence cursed himself again.
If the goddess of fortune existed, Lawrence wanted to punch her square in the face.
Lawrence finally returned to the inn only after the stalls that had permission to conduct business past sunset had closed their doors for the day.
He wanted to drown himself in wine, but he had no money and sensed that it would be a kind of betrayal.
Standing drunkenly before Holo—that was something he simply could not do.
It was his visits to the various trade companies that had kept him out so late.
If he abandoned pride and dignity altogether, he reasoned they would give him a bit of money simply to be rid of him.
In the end he'd gotten three lumione from four people. Three of them had told him he didn't need to bother returning it. They knew who was borrowing, after all.
His goal of forty-seven lumione was still clearly distant. He had to take this small amount and multiply it significantly in the little time that remained. It was not as if his situation had improved. The relationships he had destroyed in order to raise even this much money were important, even necessary, for doing business.
There were essentially no legitimate opportunities that remained for making more money.
And in any case, there was something that had to be considered before that—something that had to be regained before he could even think of making more money—which is why he had gone thither and yon asking after loans with no care for the consequences.
The memory of how Holo's hand felt when he unwittingly drove her away came back to him. Pain swirled in his chest, seeming to pierce his very heart.
When Lawrence entered the inn's lobby, the sleepy innkeeper stood behind his counter, enduring a large yawn. The city required that the innkeeper remain awake until all the guests had returned to the inn. If a guest hadn't returned by the next day, the town guard had to be notified.
It was a precaution against thieves and criminals entering the city and perpetrating foul deeds.
"Well, you're back early" came the sarcastic greeting from the innkeeper. Lawrence waved it off and headed to his room.
It was a single room on the third floor. Lawrence didn't want to consider the possibility that Holo had simply gone off somewhere else.
For the second time that day, he took a deep breath and opened the door.
Whether he opened the door slowly or quickly, the creaking would have been the same, so he did it briskly and entered.
Between the terrible building conditions and the huge number of travelers who passed through Ruvinheigen, a room with a bed was already fairly luxurious. This room, with its crude bed in the center, had a simple table by the window and still cost a pretty penny.
But now Lawrence was grateful it was so small.
If it had been even a little bit bigger, he probably would have hesitated to speak.
Holo was curled up on the bed, illuminated faintly by the moonlight that entered through a crack in the shuttered window.
"Holo."
The brief utterance diffused in the small, dark room, and Lawrence was beset by the illusion that he had never said anything at all.
On the bed, Holo did not so much as move.
If she had never wanted to see his face again, she would not have come back to the inn. The fact that she was curled up there on the bed soothed him that much at least.
"I'm sorry."
Those were the only words he had, all he could think of to say, but Holo remained still.
He could not imagine that she was sleeping, so he took one step toward the bed and gulped.
Instantly, he felt a sharp sensation at his feet. He stepped back quickly as a sweaty chill ran up his spine, and the frightening feeling vanished.
He looked back and forth between Holo and his feet.

Output:
Lawrence steeled himself and reached his hand out again. It felt as if he were plunging his fist into burning sand laced with blades. His senses told him that his flesh was charring and being cut into pieces.
He remembered his first glimpse of Holo's true form in the underground passageways.
He willed himself to take a step forward.
And in that moment.
***
There was a rustling sound, and just as Lawrence thought he saw Holo's blanket move slightly, his hand was deflected by something hard. He saw her bristling tail had been flicked away, but a pain lingered in his hand, distinctly enough so that he didn't have time to wonder whether it was illusory or not.
Then he realized that Holo had felt the same pain when he struck her hand. Lawrence had been prepared for this reaction, whereas his rejection of Holo came utterly without warning. The surprise alone must have hurt her.
Again, he cursed his own mistake.
Lawrence took a leather pouch out from underneath his shirt and tossed it onto the bed.
It was all the money he had spent the day burning bridges to acquire.
He had cashed in all the relationships he'd built up in this city.
"This is all the money I was able to get on my own. Three lumione. I still have to raise over forty more, but I've no way to do it. I can think of no way to use that as capital to raise what I need."
It was like he was talking to a cobblestone, so complete was Holo's lack of reaction. Still, Lawrence cleared his throat slightly and continued.
"All I can think of to do is take the money to a gambling house and hope for luck. But if I give it to the person who really should have it, I feel it may yet increase. So I entrust it to you."
Drunken singing could be heard from the street outside the window.
"And if everything goes bad, well, adding three lumione won't make a difference anyway."
Lawrence had sacrificed possibilities for cash half in the hopes that Holo would be able to use her wits to find a way to increase their funds and half because he wanted to leave her some money in the event that the worst happened.
Though it was only a verbal contract, Lawrence had promised to take her to the northlands, and parting on such bad terms would leave a bad taste in his mouth.
He felt that the least he could do for Holo, as a merchant, was to give her some coin.
Still, there was no response.
He backed up a step, then turned, and pulled the door open, going into the hall.
He couldn't stay in the room when it was like that.
Lawrence descended the dark stairs and went outside, ignoring the rebuking voice of the innkeeper.
Off to his right, he heard the drunken singing that previously had filtered through the room's window.
The town guard would soon be making the rounds. Having no particular place to go, Lawrence thought of going to see Jakob, who was quite involved with his problems at the moment. Since Lawrence had gone around practically forcing his request on every merchant in the vicinity, Jakob had undoubtedly received a flood of complaints.
But he stopped after taking a step.
The realization that tonight could well be his last opportunity to walk around as a free man seized his heart.
He looked up unconsciously. He started to angle his sights toward the room on the third floor where Holo was. Holo, who surely had some terrible knowledge that could help him now; Holo, who he couldn't possibly ask a favor of now.
His gaze didn't even reach the third floor before he stopped and lowered it.
Just as he resigned himself to go to the guild house, something hit him on the head.
Lawrence's field of vision swam from the sudden shock, and he fell to his knees. The word robbery came to mind, and he reached for the dagger at his waist, but there was no assailant. Instead came the distinctive clinking of coins jingling against one another...
He searched around and saw the bag containing the three precious lumione he had left on the bed.
"You fool" came the words above his head.