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

Input:
"The Church in this town had also lost sight of the path of faith. It was Sir Col, the Twilight Cardinal, and Saint Myuri, who supports him, who showed us a new path."
Saint Myuri.
Lawrence and Holo reflexively exchanged glances.
The Myuri they knew well was a tomboy who would run around the wild mountains half-naked, catching frogs and snakes and whatnot with bare hands and a straight face, tie them up with string, then toss them in a lake to fish up enormous catfish.
She was quite far from a saint.
"And it is said that the first time Sir Col and Lady Myuri gained God's blessing was here in this town. This is where it all began."
The middle-aged monk smiled proudly.
Lawrence remembered that something similar had been written in their letter.
"But we heard that the Twilight Cardinal and Lady Myuri had headed south. We were just thinking about how we might leave behind just a bit of the memory of the miracle here."
Holo reacted slightly when he said "leave behind just a bit of the memory." It was these priests who ordinarily handled chronicling all the events of the world.
"We then heard that a woman who looks exactly like Lady Myuri passed through the city wall, so we rushed over. We knew that this must be God's will."
"Erm...uh..."
Regardless of Lawrence and Holo exchanging glances, one of the priests signaled to one of the rather well-dressed merchants with a look. The merchant began to peel away the cloth that was wrapped around a large, square board that he cradled with care.
"We, servants of the Church, ordered this and it finally came today. And when we think that a woman like you came to town on this day, there is no doubt that this has been God's guidance."
Then, when the wrappings on the board fell away, Lawrence's and Holo's eyes widened.
"What do you think? With this, anyone can tell at a glance what sort of miracle this town was blessed with!"
What they showed them was a single painting.
Because of the clouded sky and the rocky mountain setting, the whole tone of the painting was rather dark.
However, rays of dawn peeked through the clouds in the distant background, and a young adult man was reaching out to it. A pious-looking girl quietly prayed beside him, and angels with trumpets in their hands were floating around them...It was a common composition, but the two in the picture were clearly Col and Myuri.
"Well? As the place where it all started, we are even thinking about having a large ceiling mural based on this painting commissioned in the Atiph church."
The workmanship on the painting was eye-catching, so Lawrence wondered less about the craftsmanship and more about the price.
Paints were so expensive that it was like cutting jewels open.
When he shook his head in disbelief, the priests interpreted that gesture to mean that he was stirred on a spiritual level, and they looked at him proudly.
"In about ten days, the Church will hold an unveiling of the painting and a gathering for prayer. Please, we would appreciate it if you came as well. You will surely attain wonderful spiritual fulfillment and find protection for your travels to come."
When that invitation came with a friendly smile, it was hard to say no.
With no other choice, Lawrence gave his agreement with an absent response, and the priests gripped both his and Holo's hands with great joy, then left with a spring in their steps.
Lawrence, now left behind, was still not fully satisfied, but he suddenly noticed the rather serious look on Holo's face.
Holo was a survivor of the age of the forests and spirits, one called the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. Perhaps she found it unforgivable that a picture of her daughter, who inherited her blood, would be hung on the walls of a church that the humans so worshipped.
"Dear," Holo said, her voice low.
"Holo, now just wait a minute—"
This was also a trend of the times. He wanted to tell her to think of it as a painting of someone else who simply happened to look similar, but she cut him off.
"Listen, dear."
"What?"

Output:
Still looking in the direction the priests had gone off in, Holo grabbed Lawrence's arm.
Her wolf parts were in a dancing fit under her skirt and her hood.
She looked at him and said, red eyes sparkling, "Have a painting of us done, too!"
The wisewolf Holo never aged, and she would look like a girl for eternity. She was by nature incompatible with the flow of time in the human world, and she would inevitably be left behind, alone. That was why she could only record Lawrence's words, movements, and memories in writing.
And no matter how she pruned her words and wrote in detail, it would never match up against reality. It was hard for someone to recall an apple if they had never seen one before.
But what about a painting?
"Dear, I..."
Holo stared at Lawrence, her lips pursed and eyes swimming.
Though it was unbecoming of his age, Lawrence found himself flustered by the sight of Holo being so emotional, but he had much too much life experience to agree so readily.
Before he started thinking about all the details, he responded as a former merchant.
"Come on—don't be so absurd."
"What?!"
Holo seemed like she was going to bite him, but he of course had a response for her.
"Do you know...how much a painting costs?"
They were products for nobles, which was why that merchant was dressed so well.
It was not something a mere bathhouse owner could get his hands on.
"No, but it's..."
Holo's eyes were brimming with tears, and she looked off in the direction the priests went. They could see the bell tower of Atiph's cathedral beyond the dense cluster of buildings.
The painting, likely ordered by people from the Church with the resources they had, was of excellent workmanship. It was like everything that was happening before them had been put down as is on canvas. No matter how hard Holo gripped her quill, it would never compare. That was how much power that image possessed.
And because of that, nobles were keen to leave behind their likenesses in paintings, and the Church had pictures of scenes from the scripture.
"No, no. Anything but that."
***
Holo's gaze still darted back and forth between the church and Lawrence, but she finally dropped her shoulders in disappointment. She often used her wiles to loosen his purse strings, but she knew how much was inside. She never asked for anything truly outrageous. She must have figured out the sheer cost of paintings from how Lawrence reacted.
In the end, her perked ears and tail deflated beneath her hood and skirt.
If she had simply seen a painting, there was no questioning that she would not have so desperately wanted it. She had seen her share of paintings while traveling, but she had never begged for one before.
But now she had finally come across one that depicted her daughter, who had the exact same face as her, and Col, whom she had known since he was a child. Of course she would want one of herself, too.
"Come on—don't make that face."
Lawrence placed his hand on her shoulder, but she did not respond.
He sighed, fished through his coin pouch, and pulled out another silver.
"This can get you plenty of parchment, good food from town, and you can write about your banquet, too."
Even though her eyes would typically be shining at the opportunity, they remained downcast.
And yet, she was still gripping the silver coin, so it did not seem like she was as dejected as she appeared.
After a moment of thought, Lawrence spoke.
"Or we could take the option of saving up for paint without wasting our money on things we don't need. Luckily, we have a connection with an artist we met on our old travels."
"...That pig, no?"
"Mr. Hugues, the sheep."
Lawrence was making more money than he used to, so the amount that came out of his wallet to please Holo had increased considerably to match. If he saved instead of letting it be squandered away, it would absolutely be a hefty sum.
And even as she whimpered, she was still Holo the Wisewolf. She was likely thinking just that beneath her droopy wolf ears.


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

Input:
Still looking in the direction the priests had gone off in, Holo grabbed Lawrence's arm.
Her wolf parts were in a dancing fit under her skirt and her hood.
She looked at him and said, red eyes sparkling, "Have a painting of us done, too!"
The wisewolf Holo never aged, and she would look like a girl for eternity. She was by nature incompatible with the flow of time in the human world, and she would inevitably be left behind, alone. That was why she could only record Lawrence's words, movements, and memories in writing.
And no matter how she pruned her words and wrote in detail, it would never match up against reality. It was hard for someone to recall an apple if they had never seen one before.
But what about a painting?
"Dear, I..."
Holo stared at Lawrence, her lips pursed and eyes swimming.
Though it was unbecoming of his age, Lawrence found himself flustered by the sight of Holo being so emotional, but he had much too much life experience to agree so readily.
Before he started thinking about all the details, he responded as a former merchant.
"Come on—don't be so absurd."
"What?!"
Holo seemed like she was going to bite him, but he of course had a response for her.
"Do you know...how much a painting costs?"
They were products for nobles, which was why that merchant was dressed so well.
It was not something a mere bathhouse owner could get his hands on.
"No, but it's..."
Holo's eyes were brimming with tears, and she looked off in the direction the priests went. They could see the bell tower of Atiph's cathedral beyond the dense cluster of buildings.
The painting, likely ordered by people from the Church with the resources they had, was of excellent workmanship. It was like everything that was happening before them had been put down as is on canvas. No matter how hard Holo gripped her quill, it would never compare. That was how much power that image possessed.
And because of that, nobles were keen to leave behind their likenesses in paintings, and the Church had pictures of scenes from the scripture.
"No, no. Anything but that."
***
Holo's gaze still darted back and forth between the church and Lawrence, but she finally dropped her shoulders in disappointment. She often used her wiles to loosen his purse strings, but she knew how much was inside. She never asked for anything truly outrageous. She must have figured out the sheer cost of paintings from how Lawrence reacted.
In the end, her perked ears and tail deflated beneath her hood and skirt.
If she had simply seen a painting, there was no questioning that she would not have so desperately wanted it. She had seen her share of paintings while traveling, but she had never begged for one before.
But now she had finally come across one that depicted her daughter, who had the exact same face as her, and Col, whom she had known since he was a child. Of course she would want one of herself, too.
"Come on—don't make that face."
Lawrence placed his hand on her shoulder, but she did not respond.
He sighed, fished through his coin pouch, and pulled out another silver.
"This can get you plenty of parchment, good food from town, and you can write about your banquet, too."
Even though her eyes would typically be shining at the opportunity, they remained downcast.
And yet, she was still gripping the silver coin, so it did not seem like she was as dejected as she appeared.
After a moment of thought, Lawrence spoke.
"Or we could take the option of saving up for paint without wasting our money on things we don't need. Luckily, we have a connection with an artist we met on our old travels."
"...That pig, no?"
"Mr. Hugues, the sheep."
Lawrence was making more money than he used to, so the amount that came out of his wallet to please Holo had increased considerably to match. If he saved instead of letting it be squandered away, it would absolutely be a hefty sum.
And even as she whimpered, she was still Holo the Wisewolf. She was likely thinking just that beneath her droopy wolf ears.

Output:
"...You...take it...," Holo said, holding out to him the silver she gripped in her hand.
Lawrence was surprised, but it was not because her hand was shaking.
She had been so set on having her fried herring and cool ale, yet she chose frugality.
Holo! Choosing frugality!
Lawrence was touched by how Holo felt, but he had not forgotten his rational, merchantlike decision.
"How about just one for today?"
He took the two silvers from Holo but then gave one back to her.
"A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step. We have to keep this up every day."
Her freshly fried herring and ale came back to her—she looked up to him with wide eyes.
And then, as though she would never let go, she gripped the silver with both hands and held it to her chest.
Lawrence could not help the smile on his face when he saw her like that, and she glared at him.
"You have always been after a way to get rich quick and constantly run into trouble; I refuse to be laughed at by you!"
"...Yeah, I'm sorry about that."
"Hmph!"
Holo turned away in a huff, but she did not seem to be that upset. They could forge a path that eventually led to a painting but also eat delicious food. Holo had once said that asceticism did not always bring about good things.
That was because giving up on one thing for something else was not necessarily the correct choice.
"All right, go shopping, then. I'll get a boat ready for us at the Debau Company. You're okay with meeting up there, right? Remember you can ask people for directions."
"I am Holo the Wisewolf. I am not a child."
"Yeah, sure," Lawrence responded and then added, "and since you're not a child, be sure to get my share of herring, too."
Holo then glared at him from the corner of her eye and said, "And that will be your payment."
"...But that was my...Fine, I get it."
When she bared her fangs and growled at him, he pulled back.
"Make sure to pick an ale that's cold."
"I know! You fool!"
Holo leaped from the cart with that sharp parting remark and disappeared into the crowd.
"Sheesh, don't make the name of the wisewolf cry like that."
Holo was cunning and sometimes even more childish than Myuri.
"Well, I guess that's why I never get tired of you," he murmured in self-ridicule, and then he scratched his head. "But a painting...?"
The reason he rejected Holo's tearful pleas was not because he was being cheap. Paintings really did come with a terrifyingly high price. He flipped through his mental account book, but he still found it difficult to scrape together the funds for it. Commissioning an artisan who would paint aside, procuring the paints and whatnot alone would cost immense amounts of money.
That was why something caught his attention when he heard that those priests had ordered that painting. Perhaps they truly did want to hang up a painting out of their faith, but the monetary power that allowed them to order it so easily and how they did not think twice of doing something else first with that money showed that even though they spoke of reform and correct faith, they were still steeped in the habits of the privileged.
However, it was too late to excuse their lack of worldly sense.
What he needed to be thinking about now was his own financial position.
"If we don't have it, we just have to get it."
He needed to obtain a considerable amount of money as efficiently as possible.
Holo had curtly cut him off, but Lawrence still had his pride as a merchant.
Plus, there was a commercial business in this town that he had always wondered about.
Lawrence had the horse proceed at a slow canter to take him to the Debau Company.
The Debau Company was a massive firm whose influence had spread throughout the entire northern region of the mainland. They had branches in each area, and they naturally had a splendid trading house here in Atiph.


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

Input:
"...You...take it...," Holo said, holding out to him the silver she gripped in her hand.
Lawrence was surprised, but it was not because her hand was shaking.
She had been so set on having her fried herring and cool ale, yet she chose frugality.
Holo! Choosing frugality!
Lawrence was touched by how Holo felt, but he had not forgotten his rational, merchantlike decision.
"How about just one for today?"
He took the two silvers from Holo but then gave one back to her.
"A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step. We have to keep this up every day."
Her freshly fried herring and ale came back to her—she looked up to him with wide eyes.
And then, as though she would never let go, she gripped the silver with both hands and held it to her chest.
Lawrence could not help the smile on his face when he saw her like that, and she glared at him.
"You have always been after a way to get rich quick and constantly run into trouble; I refuse to be laughed at by you!"
"...Yeah, I'm sorry about that."
"Hmph!"
Holo turned away in a huff, but she did not seem to be that upset. They could forge a path that eventually led to a painting but also eat delicious food. Holo had once said that asceticism did not always bring about good things.
That was because giving up on one thing for something else was not necessarily the correct choice.
"All right, go shopping, then. I'll get a boat ready for us at the Debau Company. You're okay with meeting up there, right? Remember you can ask people for directions."
"I am Holo the Wisewolf. I am not a child."
"Yeah, sure," Lawrence responded and then added, "and since you're not a child, be sure to get my share of herring, too."
Holo then glared at him from the corner of her eye and said, "And that will be your payment."
"...But that was my...Fine, I get it."
When she bared her fangs and growled at him, he pulled back.
"Make sure to pick an ale that's cold."
"I know! You fool!"
Holo leaped from the cart with that sharp parting remark and disappeared into the crowd.
"Sheesh, don't make the name of the wisewolf cry like that."
Holo was cunning and sometimes even more childish than Myuri.
"Well, I guess that's why I never get tired of you," he murmured in self-ridicule, and then he scratched his head. "But a painting...?"
The reason he rejected Holo's tearful pleas was not because he was being cheap. Paintings really did come with a terrifyingly high price. He flipped through his mental account book, but he still found it difficult to scrape together the funds for it. Commissioning an artisan who would paint aside, procuring the paints and whatnot alone would cost immense amounts of money.
That was why something caught his attention when he heard that those priests had ordered that painting. Perhaps they truly did want to hang up a painting out of their faith, but the monetary power that allowed them to order it so easily and how they did not think twice of doing something else first with that money showed that even though they spoke of reform and correct faith, they were still steeped in the habits of the privileged.
However, it was too late to excuse their lack of worldly sense.
What he needed to be thinking about now was his own financial position.
"If we don't have it, we just have to get it."
He needed to obtain a considerable amount of money as efficiently as possible.
Holo had curtly cut him off, but Lawrence still had his pride as a merchant.
Plus, there was a commercial business in this town that he had always wondered about.
Lawrence had the horse proceed at a slow canter to take him to the Debau Company.
The Debau Company was a massive firm whose influence had spread throughout the entire northern region of the mainland. They had branches in each area, and they naturally had a splendid trading house here in Atiph.

Output:
The manager who ran the trading house of course greeted Lawrence with profuse hospitality, but it felt excessive to him. He could even say that there was a hint of fear behind the manager's strained smile. And that was also the moment when he mentioned Col's and Myuri's names.
Their letters said that while there were ups and downs, their journey was generally going well. Though he wondered if there might be something they were not telling him, he sort of felt bad about pressing the manager, who was watching Lawrence's every move and showing him the highest degree of respect.
There was that, so he just left it at checking in on a few clerical things before asking to stay in the trading house until their departure.
After being given the best room in the building in an instant, Lawrence put his luggage away and then asked the manager one last question.
Departing based on what he heard, Lawrence made his way to one of the livelier ports in the Atiph harbor town, his destination being a place with the most exciting reputation even within that port.
There were various kinds of shops, companies, and even a line of artisan workshops, but on a corner, there was a building with a metal sign in the shape of a herring. At a glance, it looked like a tavern that specialized in seafood, but it was not.
The moment Lawrence opened the door, the loud voices and heat practically slapped him in the face.
"Ooooh! Look! The Gabon Company sure claimed a ton!"
"Anyone, anyone?! Anyone claiming anything?!"
"What, did the Gabon Company catch something?!"
"Nah, it's still before the harvest festival; no way I'll know what the sea'll be like next spring. How should I know what the fish in the whimsical southern seas are supposed to be like?!"
"Tips, anyone for tips?! Who wants some tips straight from the northern sea?!"
The stiflingly hot air was coming from the excitement of the people packed in there, the strong-looking alcohol in their hands, and the mountains of fried fish. And for some reason, smoked herring hung from the ceiling, making the air even more potent than it needed to be.
It seemed like a gathering place for gamblers, yet everyone there was dressed in fine clothes.
But the refinement of an art dealer who would offer a painting to the Church was nowhere to be seen; they were money mad, those who would start scraping off the edges of their silver if they had a free moment.
"Well, you're not a face we see around here," a voice called out to him as he stood still in the doorway. The man had quills stuck behind both of his ears, and he had a thick accounts book in his hand. It was filled with numbers and abbreviations of names. "If you thought this place was a tavern, then go home."
The wharves were a gathering place for the rough sort, and everyone was quick to start a fight.
Despite how overwhelmed Lawrence was, he quickly pulled himself together.
"The Debau Company lent me participation rights."
"Hmm?"
The bearded man, his alcohol-flushed face shining with grease, grabbed the parchment that Lawrence produced.
Then, once he scanned it, he forced his coarseness back with a somehow awed smile.
"A'riiight, starting today, you're one of our crew. But I can't guarantee if you'll be heading to heaven or hell!"
The man roared with laughter and smacked Lawrence's shoulders painfully, then took one of the quills from behind his ear.
"And you came at a good time! This year's trade only started a few days ago, so there's no telling where you'll be headed. It's the most interesting time of the year! So what'll it be? The price list's over there!"
There was a massive board on the wall that stretched from floor to ceiling, and written on it were countless numbers and rather adorable drawings of fish. Errand boys clung to the ladder that leaned beside the board, busily changing the numbers. This was a sight that could be seen sometimes at auctions in markets, though this was a different kind.


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

Input:
The manager who ran the trading house of course greeted Lawrence with profuse hospitality, but it felt excessive to him. He could even say that there was a hint of fear behind the manager's strained smile. And that was also the moment when he mentioned Col's and Myuri's names.
Their letters said that while there were ups and downs, their journey was generally going well. Though he wondered if there might be something they were not telling him, he sort of felt bad about pressing the manager, who was watching Lawrence's every move and showing him the highest degree of respect.
There was that, so he just left it at checking in on a few clerical things before asking to stay in the trading house until their departure.
After being given the best room in the building in an instant, Lawrence put his luggage away and then asked the manager one last question.
Departing based on what he heard, Lawrence made his way to one of the livelier ports in the Atiph harbor town, his destination being a place with the most exciting reputation even within that port.
There were various kinds of shops, companies, and even a line of artisan workshops, but on a corner, there was a building with a metal sign in the shape of a herring. At a glance, it looked like a tavern that specialized in seafood, but it was not.
The moment Lawrence opened the door, the loud voices and heat practically slapped him in the face.
"Ooooh! Look! The Gabon Company sure claimed a ton!"
"Anyone, anyone?! Anyone claiming anything?!"
"What, did the Gabon Company catch something?!"
"Nah, it's still before the harvest festival; no way I'll know what the sea'll be like next spring. How should I know what the fish in the whimsical southern seas are supposed to be like?!"
"Tips, anyone for tips?! Who wants some tips straight from the northern sea?!"
The stiflingly hot air was coming from the excitement of the people packed in there, the strong-looking alcohol in their hands, and the mountains of fried fish. And for some reason, smoked herring hung from the ceiling, making the air even more potent than it needed to be.
It seemed like a gathering place for gamblers, yet everyone there was dressed in fine clothes.
But the refinement of an art dealer who would offer a painting to the Church was nowhere to be seen; they were money mad, those who would start scraping off the edges of their silver if they had a free moment.
"Well, you're not a face we see around here," a voice called out to him as he stood still in the doorway. The man had quills stuck behind both of his ears, and he had a thick accounts book in his hand. It was filled with numbers and abbreviations of names. "If you thought this place was a tavern, then go home."
The wharves were a gathering place for the rough sort, and everyone was quick to start a fight.
Despite how overwhelmed Lawrence was, he quickly pulled himself together.
"The Debau Company lent me participation rights."
"Hmm?"
The bearded man, his alcohol-flushed face shining with grease, grabbed the parchment that Lawrence produced.
Then, once he scanned it, he forced his coarseness back with a somehow awed smile.
"A'riiight, starting today, you're one of our crew. But I can't guarantee if you'll be heading to heaven or hell!"
The man roared with laughter and smacked Lawrence's shoulders painfully, then took one of the quills from behind his ear.
"And you came at a good time! This year's trade only started a few days ago, so there's no telling where you'll be headed. It's the most interesting time of the year! So what'll it be? The price list's over there!"
There was a massive board on the wall that stretched from floor to ceiling, and written on it were countless numbers and rather adorable drawings of fish. Errand boys clung to the ladder that leaned beside the board, busily changing the numbers. This was a sight that could be seen sometimes at auctions in markets, though this was a different kind.

Output:
"Come and claim, come and claim! Smile for spring or cry for spring! It's all the will of our mother, the sea!"
That provocative line only made the air in there hotter.
The place that Lawrence visited was not an exchange for herring but an exchange for herring eggs.
Herring could be caught in large quantities. Huge, massive bunches of them. They had to be widely available in order for them to be cheap even in the deepest mountain ranges.
Even though everyone has tasted the fish at least once, there was a part of it that many had actually never tasted.
And that was their eggs.
"Last year was a bad catch, the year before last was a good catch, and the year before that was also a good catch, and before that for five years were all fantastic catches. So that means this year will, at worst, be a good catch, and depending, it might even be an unprecedented fantastic catch."
"You idiot, good and bad catches for herring mean nothing. It just depends on how many eggs are in the herring's stomachs in the end, right? The herring are meatier and have fantastic builds this year in that respect. They'll probably be so filled with eggs by the time winter ends, they'll be bursting with 'em!"
"Hey, are you a kid who's just trading for the first time? This is a trade that exists because there are buyers and sellers. We could talk about herring all day, but we won't know how much they'll cost without the crucial buyers. The key is in the sardines, as they say."
"You saying you've got info on the south?"
"Heh-heh-heh, and what if I do?"
"Damn it, he knows something!"
Conversations like that ceaselessly continued at every table. They spoke about information on herring, rumors about the south, and especially the summer weather and the harvest of something called sardines.
People did not eat herring eggs; they were instead used as bait for sardine fishing. And since sardines had a much bigger difference in good and bad catches than herring did, the value of the ground bait that were the herring eggs fluctuated violently from one extreme to the other.
Merchants were like cats—their attention was immediately grabbed by merchandise whose price varied a lot, and they were planning on jumping after them.
"Man, if I were a fish, I'd swim right down to the southern seas and directly ask the sardines how things are looking!"
When one merchant yelled that, everyone else there burst out in laughter.
All the merchants here came from various faraway regions to Atiph to bet on the price of the herring eggs that would be harvested the following spring. Most were wealthy merchants, and from Lawrence's perspective, they were casually placing dizzying amounts of money on the line.
Wheat also had violent fluctuations in price, but gambling on its futures was outlawed in every town because it was a necessity in daily life. If handled poorly, one might be seen as a monopolist and possibly sent to the guillotine.
In that respect, since it was the sardines that ate herring eggs, the sardines would not get angry, no matter how much one bought.
And since they were not gambling with dice and cards, the Church let the practice slide.
It was called one of the very few trades that God ordered for the merchants.
And so there were plenty of merchants gathered here, and it was said that it was thanks to this trade of herring eggs that Atiph could develop far away from other port cities. When wealthy merchants came together, they dropped a considerable amount of money into the town, and when they did that, various trades were brought to life and even more people came to gather.
Lawrence came to this exchange, which almost had the atmosphere of a festival inside, not only to observe but also to bet.
"Then I will be buying. I'm a little embarrassed placing a bid at such a low price, though."


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

Input:
"Come and claim, come and claim! Smile for spring or cry for spring! It's all the will of our mother, the sea!"
That provocative line only made the air in there hotter.
The place that Lawrence visited was not an exchange for herring but an exchange for herring eggs.
Herring could be caught in large quantities. Huge, massive bunches of them. They had to be widely available in order for them to be cheap even in the deepest mountain ranges.
Even though everyone has tasted the fish at least once, there was a part of it that many had actually never tasted.
And that was their eggs.
"Last year was a bad catch, the year before last was a good catch, and the year before that was also a good catch, and before that for five years were all fantastic catches. So that means this year will, at worst, be a good catch, and depending, it might even be an unprecedented fantastic catch."
"You idiot, good and bad catches for herring mean nothing. It just depends on how many eggs are in the herring's stomachs in the end, right? The herring are meatier and have fantastic builds this year in that respect. They'll probably be so filled with eggs by the time winter ends, they'll be bursting with 'em!"
"Hey, are you a kid who's just trading for the first time? This is a trade that exists because there are buyers and sellers. We could talk about herring all day, but we won't know how much they'll cost without the crucial buyers. The key is in the sardines, as they say."
"You saying you've got info on the south?"
"Heh-heh-heh, and what if I do?"
"Damn it, he knows something!"
Conversations like that ceaselessly continued at every table. They spoke about information on herring, rumors about the south, and especially the summer weather and the harvest of something called sardines.
People did not eat herring eggs; they were instead used as bait for sardine fishing. And since sardines had a much bigger difference in good and bad catches than herring did, the value of the ground bait that were the herring eggs fluctuated violently from one extreme to the other.
Merchants were like cats—their attention was immediately grabbed by merchandise whose price varied a lot, and they were planning on jumping after them.
"Man, if I were a fish, I'd swim right down to the southern seas and directly ask the sardines how things are looking!"
When one merchant yelled that, everyone else there burst out in laughter.
All the merchants here came from various faraway regions to Atiph to bet on the price of the herring eggs that would be harvested the following spring. Most were wealthy merchants, and from Lawrence's perspective, they were casually placing dizzying amounts of money on the line.
Wheat also had violent fluctuations in price, but gambling on its futures was outlawed in every town because it was a necessity in daily life. If handled poorly, one might be seen as a monopolist and possibly sent to the guillotine.
In that respect, since it was the sardines that ate herring eggs, the sardines would not get angry, no matter how much one bought.
And since they were not gambling with dice and cards, the Church let the practice slide.
It was called one of the very few trades that God ordered for the merchants.
And so there were plenty of merchants gathered here, and it was said that it was thanks to this trade of herring eggs that Atiph could develop far away from other port cities. When wealthy merchants came together, they dropped a considerable amount of money into the town, and when they did that, various trades were brought to life and even more people came to gather.
Lawrence came to this exchange, which almost had the atmosphere of a festival inside, not only to observe but also to bet.
"Then I will be buying. I'm a little embarrassed placing a bid at such a low price, though."

Output:
The man took the silver from Lawrence and wrote the number down in his account book; he truly seemed to be enjoying himself.
"But you really wanna buy?"
He asked that after he wrote down Lawrence's purchase order.
"I hear it was clear all year on the southern seas. When it's sunny like that, the catch of sardines the following season is usually bad."
He egged on Lawrence's fears like that either to extract a cancel fee from him or to collect information from him.
Either way, Lawrence was not inexperienced enough to fall for it.
"God came to me in a vision."
The man's mouth warped into a grin.
"Well, I take orders all the time. The day of thanks in the spring is the last day of trade. But no one keeps taking orders for that long."
From what Lawrence heard at the Debau Company, most of the merchants here had nothing to do with the herring eggs themselves. They only speculated on the fluctuating prices, and most of them apparently closed out on their bets partway through. On the last day of this great commotion, the merchants who actually processed, transported, and sold the herring eggs to the fishermen and companies in the south would come, taking the eggs according to the orders from the south.
It was an odd trade, but thanks to this exchange here, the herring fishermen could sell the eggs they had not harvested yet and receive the payment up front. Because of that, even if it became clear afterward that there was a terrible catch of sardines in the south and the price of their feed, the herring eggs, plummeted, the fishermen would have already received payment, so they could have some peace of mind. Conversely, if the price of eggs shot up, most of them might find that vexing, but they would all rather choose security.
And the merchants, who saw things the other way around and loved foolhardy bets, put their fates in the hands of the herring eggs from autumn to spring, until they discovered what the real demand for the eggs was.
"May God protect your partners on your new ship, too," the man said, smacking Lawrence on the shoulder, then shuffled off after being called over by another merchant.
The values on the board continued to change in the meanwhile. There were still no eggs in the herrings' stomachs, and there were still not even any sardines that would eat those gathered eggs. They were all trading in imaginary herring eggs here.
The merchants' world was a strange one, one that almost made Lawrence forget he ran a bathhouse in the mountains of Nyohhira.
He deeply inhaled the air of the place and found himself smiling in delight.
But he had not come simply to relive his memories, nor had he come to make bets at random. He had a chance of success.
Plenty of guests from the south came to the bathhouses in Nyohhira, so even though he was the bathhouse master of an establishment in the remote northern mountains, he was not entirely ignorant of word of the southern seas. He had heard from his southern guests that the catch of sardines depended on the rains that visited the rivers upstream in the summer.
Lawrence had a heartening ally as well. The one whom he worshipped, praised the tail of, and offered alcohol and delicious food to every day was none other than Holo, one who could control the harvests and bad crops of wheat, one who had even been regarded as a god. He had once asked her about the relationship between sardines and the rain when she dozed during a nap.
He then learned that the rain washed the nutrients down from the mountain, ultimately dissolving into the river, where they helped the river fish grow fat. The situation was the same for the sea, where the river emptied into, so it would not be wrong to see it as the rains upstream eventually becoming a good catch for fish in the sea.


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

Input:
The man took the silver from Lawrence and wrote the number down in his account book; he truly seemed to be enjoying himself.
"But you really wanna buy?"
He asked that after he wrote down Lawrence's purchase order.
"I hear it was clear all year on the southern seas. When it's sunny like that, the catch of sardines the following season is usually bad."
He egged on Lawrence's fears like that either to extract a cancel fee from him or to collect information from him.
Either way, Lawrence was not inexperienced enough to fall for it.
"God came to me in a vision."
The man's mouth warped into a grin.
"Well, I take orders all the time. The day of thanks in the spring is the last day of trade. But no one keeps taking orders for that long."
From what Lawrence heard at the Debau Company, most of the merchants here had nothing to do with the herring eggs themselves. They only speculated on the fluctuating prices, and most of them apparently closed out on their bets partway through. On the last day of this great commotion, the merchants who actually processed, transported, and sold the herring eggs to the fishermen and companies in the south would come, taking the eggs according to the orders from the south.
It was an odd trade, but thanks to this exchange here, the herring fishermen could sell the eggs they had not harvested yet and receive the payment up front. Because of that, even if it became clear afterward that there was a terrible catch of sardines in the south and the price of their feed, the herring eggs, plummeted, the fishermen would have already received payment, so they could have some peace of mind. Conversely, if the price of eggs shot up, most of them might find that vexing, but they would all rather choose security.
And the merchants, who saw things the other way around and loved foolhardy bets, put their fates in the hands of the herring eggs from autumn to spring, until they discovered what the real demand for the eggs was.
"May God protect your partners on your new ship, too," the man said, smacking Lawrence on the shoulder, then shuffled off after being called over by another merchant.
The values on the board continued to change in the meanwhile. There were still no eggs in the herrings' stomachs, and there were still not even any sardines that would eat those gathered eggs. They were all trading in imaginary herring eggs here.
The merchants' world was a strange one, one that almost made Lawrence forget he ran a bathhouse in the mountains of Nyohhira.
He deeply inhaled the air of the place and found himself smiling in delight.
But he had not come simply to relive his memories, nor had he come to make bets at random. He had a chance of success.
Plenty of guests from the south came to the bathhouses in Nyohhira, so even though he was the bathhouse master of an establishment in the remote northern mountains, he was not entirely ignorant of word of the southern seas. He had heard from his southern guests that the catch of sardines depended on the rains that visited the rivers upstream in the summer.
Lawrence had a heartening ally as well. The one whom he worshipped, praised the tail of, and offered alcohol and delicious food to every day was none other than Holo, one who could control the harvests and bad crops of wheat, one who had even been regarded as a god. He had once asked her about the relationship between sardines and the rain when she dozed during a nap.
He then learned that the rain washed the nutrients down from the mountain, ultimately dissolving into the river, where they helped the river fish grow fat. The situation was the same for the sea, where the river emptied into, so it would not be wrong to see it as the rains upstream eventually becoming a good catch for fish in the sea.

Output:
Anyway, when he put all that information together, he saw victory.
Not only that, but unlike so-called gambling, no matter how far off the estimates he was, he would still at least get some herring eggs in this bet. Like the exchange of arms long ago, it was impossible that he would lose anything over his standing, and as long as herring eggs never started going for free, he would not lose everything.
It was a perfect calculation.
"I can still do things as a merchant. And it'll go toward her painting—two birds with one stone."
Lawrence sang his own praises, but he of course chose to gamble very carefully. He did not bet all his assets like he would have done a long time ago, and he modestly spent only a few silver trenni.
If he added this bet to the meager pile of methods he might use to make money in the future, then they could probably commission a small painting.
Holo would surely be happy.
"It might all be for her, but I still have to keep a trade like this secret. Who knows what she'll say."
Holo often seemed easygoing, but she was surprisingly dependable.
Lawrence left the exchange and sniffed his own clothes. There was no way Holo would not notice the smell of alcohol and fried food on him, and she would certainly ask where he went.
On the way back to the Debau Company, he stood in the smoke of stands grilling beef as long as he could, and he bought skewered garlic and a hodgepodge of fish for her as a souvenir.
On the first day of their stay, the Debau Company gave them a hardy welcome, and they stayed up rather late.
But the boat wouldn't be full and ready to leave for at least the next ten days, so there was naturally no need to feel hurried. They had been camping outside until then, so it was the perfect chance for them to rest their tired bodies.
The following day, Lawrence awoke with the rising sun as was his habit, but of course, instead of getting straight up, he went back to sleep. He was so comfortable, he understood very well why Holo always grumbled when it came to waking up. He lent himself to the comfort of falling back to sleep as he thought about that and finally woke up for good when the sun was already high in the sky.
He knew he needed to get up soon, and he searched for fur within the blanket as he always did. They had borrowed some hot water from the company yesterday to have a thorough cleaning, so Holo's tail was as fluffy as it had ever been.
Cuddling a warm Holo, tail and all, was the best thing for an idle morning nap...but as his hand fished around, he finally opened his eyes.
"...Holo?"
Holo, who typically would sleep forever if he let her, was not there. He looked to the back of the chair by the bed and saw that only Lawrence's coat hung off it—Holo's robe was gone.
He had thought she would be sleeping in until noon that day, considering how much they drank last night, so he wondered where she went.
"...Maybe she'll be back soon..."
Lawrence murmured to himself and yawned. Without Holo around, he found himself bored in his first moments of consciousness. He rolled over and closed his eyes.
But once he knew that Holo was gone, it seemed like the inside of the blanket went cold, and the room was too quiet. Once he finally sneezed, Lawrence curled up in a sulk.
It was almost like he could not fall asleep on his own out of loneliness.
Regrettably, even though he squeezed his eyes shut, determined to fall back to sleep for a third time, drowsiness never came. The silence rang in his ears, and he felt uneasy.
***
No need to be stubborn; I guess I'll go look for her.
As he thought that to himself, just as he was about to get up, the door opened.
"What, you are still asleep?"
That was the first thing Holo said when he turned to face the door and their eyes met.


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

Input:
Anyway, when he put all that information together, he saw victory.
Not only that, but unlike so-called gambling, no matter how far off the estimates he was, he would still at least get some herring eggs in this bet. Like the exchange of arms long ago, it was impossible that he would lose anything over his standing, and as long as herring eggs never started going for free, he would not lose everything.
It was a perfect calculation.
"I can still do things as a merchant. And it'll go toward her painting—two birds with one stone."
Lawrence sang his own praises, but he of course chose to gamble very carefully. He did not bet all his assets like he would have done a long time ago, and he modestly spent only a few silver trenni.
If he added this bet to the meager pile of methods he might use to make money in the future, then they could probably commission a small painting.
Holo would surely be happy.
"It might all be for her, but I still have to keep a trade like this secret. Who knows what she'll say."
Holo often seemed easygoing, but she was surprisingly dependable.
Lawrence left the exchange and sniffed his own clothes. There was no way Holo would not notice the smell of alcohol and fried food on him, and she would certainly ask where he went.
On the way back to the Debau Company, he stood in the smoke of stands grilling beef as long as he could, and he bought skewered garlic and a hodgepodge of fish for her as a souvenir.
On the first day of their stay, the Debau Company gave them a hardy welcome, and they stayed up rather late.
But the boat wouldn't be full and ready to leave for at least the next ten days, so there was naturally no need to feel hurried. They had been camping outside until then, so it was the perfect chance for them to rest their tired bodies.
The following day, Lawrence awoke with the rising sun as was his habit, but of course, instead of getting straight up, he went back to sleep. He was so comfortable, he understood very well why Holo always grumbled when it came to waking up. He lent himself to the comfort of falling back to sleep as he thought about that and finally woke up for good when the sun was already high in the sky.
He knew he needed to get up soon, and he searched for fur within the blanket as he always did. They had borrowed some hot water from the company yesterday to have a thorough cleaning, so Holo's tail was as fluffy as it had ever been.
Cuddling a warm Holo, tail and all, was the best thing for an idle morning nap...but as his hand fished around, he finally opened his eyes.
"...Holo?"
Holo, who typically would sleep forever if he let her, was not there. He looked to the back of the chair by the bed and saw that only Lawrence's coat hung off it—Holo's robe was gone.
He had thought she would be sleeping in until noon that day, considering how much they drank last night, so he wondered where she went.
"...Maybe she'll be back soon..."
Lawrence murmured to himself and yawned. Without Holo around, he found himself bored in his first moments of consciousness. He rolled over and closed his eyes.
But once he knew that Holo was gone, it seemed like the inside of the blanket went cold, and the room was too quiet. Once he finally sneezed, Lawrence curled up in a sulk.
It was almost like he could not fall asleep on his own out of loneliness.
Regrettably, even though he squeezed his eyes shut, determined to fall back to sleep for a third time, drowsiness never came. The silence rang in his ears, and he felt uneasy.
***
No need to be stubborn; I guess I'll go look for her.
As he thought that to himself, just as he was about to get up, the door opened.
"What, you are still asleep?"
That was the first thing Holo said when he turned to face the door and their eyes met.

Output:
He had been disappointed at finding himself alone in bed, but Holo did not seem to mind a bit. She reached out to the cask placed by the window, poured the remaining wine from last night into a cup, and immediately drank it down in a single gulp.
"Burp."
He was exasperated at how much energy she had despite getting up early in the morning. Holo wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then energetically whirled around.
"Come now—you mustn't sleep all day. We must get ready to go!"
Still under the blanket, Lawrence furrowed his brow quizzically.
"Go...? Go where?"
"To town, of course! I have collected word of noteworthy places," Holo said, and Lawrence finally noticed the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. "You agreed last night, too."
"Last night...? Wh...?"
Lawrence slowly got up and tried to remember with his vague memory.
After they had filled themselves with seafood, they drank the sweet mead they still had plenty of as Holo and her freshly washed tail sat on his lap. They were relaxed knowing they could fall straight asleep, unlike when it came to camping outside, so they ended up drinking a lot. The mead was eventually not enough, and he remembered popping open spirits.
After that, he did not remember anything.
Luckily, he was not hungover, but Holo stood by the bed, arms folded and glowering down at him like she was angry with her habitually drunk husband.
Lawrence shrugged and Holo sighed, pulled the coat off the chair back, and tossed it to him.
He slowly removed the garment from his head, and Holo said, "We have time until the ship leaves, no?"
"Hmm? Yeah, it sounds like they have a lot to pack...They're busy exchanging the wheat from the south's summer harvest and the furs from the north. Um...and? We could probably see all the sights in town in a day, and I asked the Debau Company to order writing implements for you..."
But Holo gripped some sort of paper in her hand. It seemed the lazy Holo had gotten up early and gone to gather information.
Lawrence swallowed a yawn and looked up to his sometimes-outrageous traveling partner.
"So what are we doing?"
Holo sniffed, then sighed, and then stuck the paper out into Lawrence's face.
"I shall be working myself to the bone!"
I think you're still drunk from last night, Lawrence thought.
Once they entered the lively town of Atiph, Holo eagerly peered at the piece of paper in her hand as Lawrence yawned beside her. The note had various things in Holo's usual bad handwriting written on it, and it seemed to be generally the types of work found in towns.
Holo was a proud wolf, but it was exceedingly uncertain to say if she was diligent or not. It would take rather a whole lot for her to work during a trip without sightseeing or wandering around and eating the local specialties.
When he asked, the day before really did seem to be the cause of it.
"I whined like a child about wanting the picture, but you cannot create something from nothing. And your wallet is meant for buying me food and drink at the end of the day."
"I'm really happy that you noticed the truth. I wish you'd known that when I was traveling around as a merchant, though."
"Fool. And I asked about the price of a painting, and, well...I do understand why you would refuse on the spot."
Holo was, all in all, sharp and clever, so she had a better grasp on the market values of things than any random girl wandering about town.
"But if we just have something done with charcoal and cloth, then we could still have someone draw us with pen and water in just a few days."
***
Holo glared at Lawrence when he said that.
"Why does that little fool Myuri get something so wonderful, while my face must be dirtied with charcoal?"
The Great Wisewolf was hundreds of years old.
But Lawrence knew Holo very well.
Beneath her massive wolf fangs was a maiden more ladylike than her daughter, Myuri.
"Of course. You're just as cute as Myuri is, but you would shine much brighter in a painting for all the dignity that you have."


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

Input:
He had been disappointed at finding himself alone in bed, but Holo did not seem to mind a bit. She reached out to the cask placed by the window, poured the remaining wine from last night into a cup, and immediately drank it down in a single gulp.
"Burp."
He was exasperated at how much energy she had despite getting up early in the morning. Holo wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then energetically whirled around.
"Come now—you mustn't sleep all day. We must get ready to go!"
Still under the blanket, Lawrence furrowed his brow quizzically.
"Go...? Go where?"
"To town, of course! I have collected word of noteworthy places," Holo said, and Lawrence finally noticed the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. "You agreed last night, too."
"Last night...? Wh...?"
Lawrence slowly got up and tried to remember with his vague memory.
After they had filled themselves with seafood, they drank the sweet mead they still had plenty of as Holo and her freshly washed tail sat on his lap. They were relaxed knowing they could fall straight asleep, unlike when it came to camping outside, so they ended up drinking a lot. The mead was eventually not enough, and he remembered popping open spirits.
After that, he did not remember anything.
Luckily, he was not hungover, but Holo stood by the bed, arms folded and glowering down at him like she was angry with her habitually drunk husband.
Lawrence shrugged and Holo sighed, pulled the coat off the chair back, and tossed it to him.
He slowly removed the garment from his head, and Holo said, "We have time until the ship leaves, no?"
"Hmm? Yeah, it sounds like they have a lot to pack...They're busy exchanging the wheat from the south's summer harvest and the furs from the north. Um...and? We could probably see all the sights in town in a day, and I asked the Debau Company to order writing implements for you..."
But Holo gripped some sort of paper in her hand. It seemed the lazy Holo had gotten up early and gone to gather information.
Lawrence swallowed a yawn and looked up to his sometimes-outrageous traveling partner.
"So what are we doing?"
Holo sniffed, then sighed, and then stuck the paper out into Lawrence's face.
"I shall be working myself to the bone!"
I think you're still drunk from last night, Lawrence thought.
Once they entered the lively town of Atiph, Holo eagerly peered at the piece of paper in her hand as Lawrence yawned beside her. The note had various things in Holo's usual bad handwriting written on it, and it seemed to be generally the types of work found in towns.
Holo was a proud wolf, but it was exceedingly uncertain to say if she was diligent or not. It would take rather a whole lot for her to work during a trip without sightseeing or wandering around and eating the local specialties.
When he asked, the day before really did seem to be the cause of it.
"I whined like a child about wanting the picture, but you cannot create something from nothing. And your wallet is meant for buying me food and drink at the end of the day."
"I'm really happy that you noticed the truth. I wish you'd known that when I was traveling around as a merchant, though."
"Fool. And I asked about the price of a painting, and, well...I do understand why you would refuse on the spot."
Holo was, all in all, sharp and clever, so she had a better grasp on the market values of things than any random girl wandering about town.
"But if we just have something done with charcoal and cloth, then we could still have someone draw us with pen and water in just a few days."
***
Holo glared at Lawrence when he said that.
"Why does that little fool Myuri get something so wonderful, while my face must be dirtied with charcoal?"
The Great Wisewolf was hundreds of years old.
But Lawrence knew Holo very well.
Beneath her massive wolf fangs was a maiden more ladylike than her daughter, Myuri.
"Of course. You're just as cute as Myuri is, but you would shine much brighter in a painting for all the dignity that you have."

Output:
"It seems you've finally understood."
"Yes, finally," he responded theatrically, and Holo burst out into laughter, unable to hold it back, and Lawrence laughed as well. "So are you planning on earning some money somewhere? It's a lively town, so I don't think you'll be too hard-pressed to find some temporary work...What are these symbols here?"
"Mm, 'tis work I believe would suit me."
Work suitable for Holo the Wisewolf.
Lawrence quietly repeated that phrase to himself as Holo showed him her notes, but ignoring her as she beamed with pride, he found himself making a rather dry smile.
"Bakery salesgirl, tavern salesgirl, sausage salesgirl...These are all food-related."
"Good, no?"
He would refrain from asking how it was good.
She likely assumed she could snack her way through work.
Despite that thought in his head, Lawrence said, "I'm sure the shop owners would be happy to hire you as a poster girl for their shop."
"Indeed!"
She was charismatic and had a nice smile, so if she stood out in front of a store wearing a headkerchief and an apron, a line would form in no time.
There was no question about that at all, but Lawrence knew one thing that Holo did not. Well, perhaps it would be more apt to say that there was something, thinking back on their past trade journey together, that she had forgotten.
Yet, if he said it out loud, Holo would likely not acknowledge it.
There were plenty of things in the world that one had to experience to learn.
"Well, good luck," Lawrence said and returned the paper to Holo. "Your drunk and useless husband is going to go laze about in his room."
Holo flashed a gallant smile and laughed.
Holo was hired on the spot as a salesgirl for a bakery. Not only was this a busy season for travelers, but boats were coming into harbor one after the other, so customers who were fed up with hardtack came in droves to the shop to get their fresh bread. They greeted her briefly before telling her to stand outside right away.
After waving to Holo as she excitedly put on her apron, Lawrence left the shop.
He wandered around the port afterward, looking into the price and quality of the goods that came to Atiph, and paid a visit to the companies he always ordered from. He then went around to visit a few companies that dealt with flours in town. They had run into trouble ordering wheat before, and there might be something cheaper than the barley from the production center they always bought from. The barley farms were always going in and out of fashion.
And he found himself getting excited just by looking at the shops in a lively town.
Running a bathhouse was by no means boring, but it was a different sort of enjoyment from thinking about how to order an unbelievable number of products and where he might sell them to get the highest price.
He ate lunch outside at some food stands, then, feeling like he was a rookie again, he went around to look minutely at the business transactions in Atiph. He decided to peek in at the herring egg exchange while he was at it, and he chuckled to himself when he saw the price of eggs was going up.
Time passed in a flash as he wandered around doing this and that, and the loud ringing of the church bell brought him back to reality. It signaled the end of a day and was also the bell to close up shop for most places. Holo would be finishing work soon.
Thinking she would have been standing and talking all day for work, Lawrence bought what he was told was freshly made apple cider, then returned to the Debau Company. The maids let him know that Holo had already returned.
Lawrence opened the door to the room and gave a tired smile.
"Good work today."
Holo had scattered her thick clothing and lay facedown on the bed, wearing only her chilly, casual clothes.
She did not even budge an inch, and the lay of fur on her tail that she was so proud of was mussed.
The room was filled with the scent of fresh bread, and the source of the smell was likely Holo.


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

Input:
"It seems you've finally understood."
"Yes, finally," he responded theatrically, and Holo burst out into laughter, unable to hold it back, and Lawrence laughed as well. "So are you planning on earning some money somewhere? It's a lively town, so I don't think you'll be too hard-pressed to find some temporary work...What are these symbols here?"
"Mm, 'tis work I believe would suit me."
Work suitable for Holo the Wisewolf.
Lawrence quietly repeated that phrase to himself as Holo showed him her notes, but ignoring her as she beamed with pride, he found himself making a rather dry smile.
"Bakery salesgirl, tavern salesgirl, sausage salesgirl...These are all food-related."
"Good, no?"
He would refrain from asking how it was good.
She likely assumed she could snack her way through work.
Despite that thought in his head, Lawrence said, "I'm sure the shop owners would be happy to hire you as a poster girl for their shop."
"Indeed!"
She was charismatic and had a nice smile, so if she stood out in front of a store wearing a headkerchief and an apron, a line would form in no time.
There was no question about that at all, but Lawrence knew one thing that Holo did not. Well, perhaps it would be more apt to say that there was something, thinking back on their past trade journey together, that she had forgotten.
Yet, if he said it out loud, Holo would likely not acknowledge it.
There were plenty of things in the world that one had to experience to learn.
"Well, good luck," Lawrence said and returned the paper to Holo. "Your drunk and useless husband is going to go laze about in his room."
Holo flashed a gallant smile and laughed.
Holo was hired on the spot as a salesgirl for a bakery. Not only was this a busy season for travelers, but boats were coming into harbor one after the other, so customers who were fed up with hardtack came in droves to the shop to get their fresh bread. They greeted her briefly before telling her to stand outside right away.
After waving to Holo as she excitedly put on her apron, Lawrence left the shop.
He wandered around the port afterward, looking into the price and quality of the goods that came to Atiph, and paid a visit to the companies he always ordered from. He then went around to visit a few companies that dealt with flours in town. They had run into trouble ordering wheat before, and there might be something cheaper than the barley from the production center they always bought from. The barley farms were always going in and out of fashion.
And he found himself getting excited just by looking at the shops in a lively town.
Running a bathhouse was by no means boring, but it was a different sort of enjoyment from thinking about how to order an unbelievable number of products and where he might sell them to get the highest price.
He ate lunch outside at some food stands, then, feeling like he was a rookie again, he went around to look minutely at the business transactions in Atiph. He decided to peek in at the herring egg exchange while he was at it, and he chuckled to himself when he saw the price of eggs was going up.
Time passed in a flash as he wandered around doing this and that, and the loud ringing of the church bell brought him back to reality. It signaled the end of a day and was also the bell to close up shop for most places. Holo would be finishing work soon.
Thinking she would have been standing and talking all day for work, Lawrence bought what he was told was freshly made apple cider, then returned to the Debau Company. The maids let him know that Holo had already returned.
Lawrence opened the door to the room and gave a tired smile.
"Good work today."
Holo had scattered her thick clothing and lay facedown on the bed, wearing only her chilly, casual clothes.
She did not even budge an inch, and the lay of fur on her tail that she was so proud of was mussed.
The room was filled with the scent of fresh bread, and the source of the smell was likely Holo.

Output:
"What do you want to do for dinner?" he asked, but she did not move. He thought about how she did not seem to be asleep as he placed the small cask of cider on the table. There was a bag there. He loosened the strings to open it and found some bread that she had brought home, likely a gift from the shop owner. It all looked delicious, but it did not seem like any of the loaves had been touched. The gluttonous Holo would never have considered something so laudable as waiting until her dearest husband had returned home before eating.
With a knowing smile, Lawrence said, "It's only the first few minutes that it smells good, isn't it?"
She probably figured that if she was to work at all, she might as well spend her hours be surrounded by good smells...But there was such a thing as too much of a good thing.
"You...knew..."
He heard her parched voice coming from the bed, one that made his own throat hurt just listening to it.
"Sure, but you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
***
Her messy tail stood and then lifelessly drooped.
"I can't remember when, but you went to go sell meat and bread to a water mill construction site, remember? Did you forget that it was only at the very beginning that you were happily snacking on the product?"
***
Holo said something with her face still pushed into the pillow, kicked her feet, and then held them straight out. That meant Shut up and massage my feet.
"Now you see how hard it is to make money."
He sat down on the bed, and Holo kicked him with her bare feet. There was lukewarm water and a washcloth in a washtub next to the bed, so he soaked the cloth in the water, squeezed it out, and then wiped her feet. They were small and shapely.
The maids had likely been very considerate by putting hot water into the washtub, but Holo was in no mood to bother with it after using up all her energy; she had used the last of it removing her clothes before lying facedown on the bed.
"But it was a good event to remember, wasn't it?" Lawrence said with a smile, and her left foot, which he was not washing, kicked him in the shoulder.
"Are you going tomorrow?"
The moment he asked, her right foot shuddered in his hand.
When he looked up to her face, she had lifted her head and spoke painfully. "...The name of the wisewolf would be shamed should I run away after one day..."
Shops hired travelers temporarily on a day or half-day basis, so they typically would not mind, but Holo was a proud one.
"Well, tomorrow you can work hard, and then we can just say that a different shop called on you."
Holo closed her eyes and sighed deeply, then slowly sat up and clung to Lawrence.
"I can't wipe your feet like this."
Even though he still had her left foot to go, Holo continued clinging to him, unmoving, like a small child.
Despite how she could easily breeze her way through the world on her own, she was in this state after just one day of working at a bakery.
Lawrence found himself smiling, but he was also happy when he thought about how she was showing him her vulnerable side like this.
"You should take a little rest. The lights are on all night at the port this time of year, so we can do some sightseeing as we go eat."
He patted Holo's head, and her triangular wolf ears flicked about. When she did, wheat flew off them, like scales falling from a butterfly, and he could tell how rough her work was.
"Well then, I'm going to talk a bit with the manager here about my wo—"
Just as he was about to stand, he was pulled back into the bed. Holo did not even move to lift her head from his chest. She had surely lavishly spent an entire year's worth of amiability at the bakery.
Holo was shy; she was trying to replenish herself after being eroded down by customer service.
Lawrence made a tired yet kind smile, embraced her in return, and her tail began to lightly thump against the bed.
Someone always needed the happiness of a merchant.
And before long, he could hear her snoring softly.


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

Input:
"What do you want to do for dinner?" he asked, but she did not move. He thought about how she did not seem to be asleep as he placed the small cask of cider on the table. There was a bag there. He loosened the strings to open it and found some bread that she had brought home, likely a gift from the shop owner. It all looked delicious, but it did not seem like any of the loaves had been touched. The gluttonous Holo would never have considered something so laudable as waiting until her dearest husband had returned home before eating.
With a knowing smile, Lawrence said, "It's only the first few minutes that it smells good, isn't it?"
She probably figured that if she was to work at all, she might as well spend her hours be surrounded by good smells...But there was such a thing as too much of a good thing.
"You...knew..."
He heard her parched voice coming from the bed, one that made his own throat hurt just listening to it.
"Sure, but you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
***
Her messy tail stood and then lifelessly drooped.
"I can't remember when, but you went to go sell meat and bread to a water mill construction site, remember? Did you forget that it was only at the very beginning that you were happily snacking on the product?"
***
Holo said something with her face still pushed into the pillow, kicked her feet, and then held them straight out. That meant Shut up and massage my feet.
"Now you see how hard it is to make money."
He sat down on the bed, and Holo kicked him with her bare feet. There was lukewarm water and a washcloth in a washtub next to the bed, so he soaked the cloth in the water, squeezed it out, and then wiped her feet. They were small and shapely.
The maids had likely been very considerate by putting hot water into the washtub, but Holo was in no mood to bother with it after using up all her energy; she had used the last of it removing her clothes before lying facedown on the bed.
"But it was a good event to remember, wasn't it?" Lawrence said with a smile, and her left foot, which he was not washing, kicked him in the shoulder.
"Are you going tomorrow?"
The moment he asked, her right foot shuddered in his hand.
When he looked up to her face, she had lifted her head and spoke painfully. "...The name of the wisewolf would be shamed should I run away after one day..."
Shops hired travelers temporarily on a day or half-day basis, so they typically would not mind, but Holo was a proud one.
"Well, tomorrow you can work hard, and then we can just say that a different shop called on you."
Holo closed her eyes and sighed deeply, then slowly sat up and clung to Lawrence.
"I can't wipe your feet like this."
Even though he still had her left foot to go, Holo continued clinging to him, unmoving, like a small child.
Despite how she could easily breeze her way through the world on her own, she was in this state after just one day of working at a bakery.
Lawrence found himself smiling, but he was also happy when he thought about how she was showing him her vulnerable side like this.
"You should take a little rest. The lights are on all night at the port this time of year, so we can do some sightseeing as we go eat."
He patted Holo's head, and her triangular wolf ears flicked about. When she did, wheat flew off them, like scales falling from a butterfly, and he could tell how rough her work was.
"Well then, I'm going to talk a bit with the manager here about my wo—"
Just as he was about to stand, he was pulled back into the bed. Holo did not even move to lift her head from his chest. She had surely lavishly spent an entire year's worth of amiability at the bakery.
Holo was shy; she was trying to replenish herself after being eroded down by customer service.
Lawrence made a tired yet kind smile, embraced her in return, and her tail began to lightly thump against the bed.
Someone always needed the happiness of a merchant.
And before long, he could hear her snoring softly.

Output:
In exchange, Lawrence was busy filling in all the parts of Holo she had worked to dust.
He brushed her hair after getting up in the morning, dressed her, ripped off pieces of bread to feed her, patted her on the head when she got down, complimented her tail—he almost wanted some sort of salary for himself, but he did not mind such days every once in a while.
After it was all said and done, Holo spent almost two full days in depravity after finishing work at the bakery before she finally got her energy back.
"Honestly, what a terrible thing I have been through!" Holo said as she ripped into the sausage she was eating for lunch in the room they were staying in.
She spoke as though it was Lawrence who had forced her into working, but it would only drag on if he pointed that out to her, so he stayed silent.
"But I could not even manage a shiny silver for myself; how dreadfully long it must take..."
"There's no rush in making money. There's still so much work here."
The paper Holo had filled with notes about work she had heard about around town was packed with jobs meant for travelers who were waiting for favorable winds for their boat or for their stagecoach, or the kind that suddenly needed more helping hands.
Unloading cargo at the port was a standard job, and there was also work for people to chase the herds of pigs and sheep once they were unloaded. There was also demand for boat cleaners, as well as seamstresses to repair the sails—all very typical of a port town.
There were also plenty of salesgirls, and those who could read and write would undoubtedly find work at the notary association.
"I have had enough of the food sort," Holo said, sprinkling a generous helping of mustard onto her sausage before biting into it.
Her shoulders immediately tensed at the spice, and the hairs on her tail stood on end.
"Then what's left is technical work or heavy labor."
"Ooooh...Is there nothing else? Something easy and simple. Wine tasting or something of the sort."
Despite how she had just gotten a taste of the pain of being surrounded by too much food, she had not learned her lesson.
"You'd be a huge help if there was work meant for sniffing out mixed flour."
That very thing had happened in the bathhouse once, and Holo and Myuri realized they had gotten mixed flour thanks to their wolf noses.
"You fool. Should I do a job like that, I would not be able to smell for ten days afterward."
But then you wouldn't realize you were eating cheap food, and that'd be a big help..., Lawrence murmured silently to himself as his eyes stopped on a line in the list of jobs she had collected.
"What is this?"
"Mm?"
Traveling merchants went to many different lands and conducted business in each place according to circumstances. That was why he had considerable confidence when it came to knowledge about the world, but there was something there that Lawrence did not know.
"Mixing girl?"
"Ah yes, that one." Holo stuffed her mouth with bread filled with walnuts and clapped her hands. "I heard about it from a girl who was sewing all day in this trading house. There is some sort of job like that in the harbor."
"Do you mix things, like the name says? What do you mix?"
"I hear the most common is wheat. Aye. Sounds quite suited for me."
That did not ring any bells.
"Do you help a baker, then?" Lawrence asked, and Holo swallowed her wine to finish off her meal, then exhaled in bliss.
"I have already said I will no longer do such a thing, no? This work is caring for the wheat before it is made into flour. You only deal with wheat by placing it on your nice, breezy cart, which is why you do not know." Holo wiped her mouth, energetically reached for a certain coat pocket, and grabbed Lawrence's share of food as well. "You know wheat goes bad quickly in the damp, yes? 'Tis also true in the village. So when it is being stored, it must be mixed twice a day to air it out. Ones that might seem especially damp are left to dry outside."


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

Input:
In exchange, Lawrence was busy filling in all the parts of Holo she had worked to dust.
He brushed her hair after getting up in the morning, dressed her, ripped off pieces of bread to feed her, patted her on the head when she got down, complimented her tail—he almost wanted some sort of salary for himself, but he did not mind such days every once in a while.
After it was all said and done, Holo spent almost two full days in depravity after finishing work at the bakery before she finally got her energy back.
"Honestly, what a terrible thing I have been through!" Holo said as she ripped into the sausage she was eating for lunch in the room they were staying in.
She spoke as though it was Lawrence who had forced her into working, but it would only drag on if he pointed that out to her, so he stayed silent.
"But I could not even manage a shiny silver for myself; how dreadfully long it must take..."
"There's no rush in making money. There's still so much work here."
The paper Holo had filled with notes about work she had heard about around town was packed with jobs meant for travelers who were waiting for favorable winds for their boat or for their stagecoach, or the kind that suddenly needed more helping hands.
Unloading cargo at the port was a standard job, and there was also work for people to chase the herds of pigs and sheep once they were unloaded. There was also demand for boat cleaners, as well as seamstresses to repair the sails—all very typical of a port town.
There were also plenty of salesgirls, and those who could read and write would undoubtedly find work at the notary association.
"I have had enough of the food sort," Holo said, sprinkling a generous helping of mustard onto her sausage before biting into it.
Her shoulders immediately tensed at the spice, and the hairs on her tail stood on end.
"Then what's left is technical work or heavy labor."
"Ooooh...Is there nothing else? Something easy and simple. Wine tasting or something of the sort."
Despite how she had just gotten a taste of the pain of being surrounded by too much food, she had not learned her lesson.
"You'd be a huge help if there was work meant for sniffing out mixed flour."
That very thing had happened in the bathhouse once, and Holo and Myuri realized they had gotten mixed flour thanks to their wolf noses.
"You fool. Should I do a job like that, I would not be able to smell for ten days afterward."
But then you wouldn't realize you were eating cheap food, and that'd be a big help..., Lawrence murmured silently to himself as his eyes stopped on a line in the list of jobs she had collected.
"What is this?"
"Mm?"
Traveling merchants went to many different lands and conducted business in each place according to circumstances. That was why he had considerable confidence when it came to knowledge about the world, but there was something there that Lawrence did not know.
"Mixing girl?"
"Ah yes, that one." Holo stuffed her mouth with bread filled with walnuts and clapped her hands. "I heard about it from a girl who was sewing all day in this trading house. There is some sort of job like that in the harbor."
"Do you mix things, like the name says? What do you mix?"
"I hear the most common is wheat. Aye. Sounds quite suited for me."
That did not ring any bells.
"Do you help a baker, then?" Lawrence asked, and Holo swallowed her wine to finish off her meal, then exhaled in bliss.
"I have already said I will no longer do such a thing, no? This work is caring for the wheat before it is made into flour. You only deal with wheat by placing it on your nice, breezy cart, which is why you do not know." Holo wiped her mouth, energetically reached for a certain coat pocket, and grabbed Lawrence's share of food as well. "You know wheat goes bad quickly in the damp, yes? 'Tis also true in the village. So when it is being stored, it must be mixed twice a day to air it out. Ones that might seem especially damp are left to dry outside."

Output:
"Hmph." Holo crossed her arms and for some reason looked at him with a reproachful stare. "Honestly, you always act like that."
Holo's fluffy tail deliberately swayed back and forth behind her. The thick fur never failed to keep him warm at night.
"...Don't you always write down how much I support and nurture your tail?"
That was even doubly true for the main body it was attached to. Had she already forgotten how he treated her yesterday and the day before?
"You fool, 'tis not enough."
When she said that, Lawrence could only shrug with a sigh.
"Anyway. I am practiced at caring for wheat, and the markets in both the village and the town have decided that 'tis a woman's job."
"So that's why it's called a 'mixing girl.'"
Every job had its own responsibilities and its own territory. Even in towns that Lawrence thought he knew everything about, there were still some things that a man would never notice.
"I have heard that there are also songs to sing when mixing. Sounds delightful."
She did not often join in on the festivities in the bathhouse, but Holo did sometimes sing and dance.
When he imagined her sticking her arm in a sack stuffed with wheat, humming cheerfully as she did so, Lawrence found it endearing.
"Don't let your guard down and start wagging your tail."
"I am not a dog!"
As Holo glared at him, their hands intertwined, they made their way down to the port.
After inquiring from people on the street at the port, they headed to a district lined with warehouses where they would most likely find the work in question, and sure enough, among the many cargo handlers and merchants, there were a few women here and there. Lawrence had also noticed that there were women about when he visited the harbor, of course, but it never crossed his mind what sort of work they might be doing.
Being a mixing girl apparently required wearing short sleeves, even in the middle of winter, so when he saw that all the women were wearing short sleeves, he only felt embarrassed at how clueless he was.
"Ah, will you be working, miss?"
After asking people passing by on the street, they met a little old man, gripping a pen, who supervised the mixing girl work at the notary office by the warehouses.
He seemed like a regular kind old man at first, but they could see countless scars on his skin, which had been terribly weathered by the sun, and the bones in his fingers were unusually fat. He was likely well-known as a cargo handler and had shouldered the processing of goods when he was younger.
"We're always in need of more people this time of year. Have you handled wheat before, miss?"
"Should you ask me to produce buds on any stalk of wheat, I would be able to do so straightaway, given that it is not cooked."
Holo the Wisewolf, who resided in wheat and controlled its harvest, really could do that, but the old man of reception of course only smiled.
"How promising. Then I'll have you start work right away. Oh, but roll up your sleeves, please. That is your uniform for this work. All the other short-sleeved girls will come to your aid if they see you wrapped up in trouble with any of the cargo handlers."
"Aye."
As Lawrence watched Holo gleefully roll up her sleeves, he felt the old man's gaze on him.
"And are you here to help with the cargo, sir? You seem like you can read and write, so maybe transcribing work. We have plenty of both."
Lawrence was flustered, having the conversation suddenly turn to him.
"Er, I..."
He also had plenty of work to do. He had to sell the sulfur powder that he had accepted in Nyohhira, and he had to obtain the small change that they lacked.
"Hmm? Oh, pardon me, you're not married, are you?"
"Uh, well—"
Just as Lawrence was about to answer, Holo butted in.
"This fool spends his days drunk in the room whilst making only me work."
"Hey!"


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

Input:
"Hmph." Holo crossed her arms and for some reason looked at him with a reproachful stare. "Honestly, you always act like that."
Holo's fluffy tail deliberately swayed back and forth behind her. The thick fur never failed to keep him warm at night.
"...Don't you always write down how much I support and nurture your tail?"
That was even doubly true for the main body it was attached to. Had she already forgotten how he treated her yesterday and the day before?
"You fool, 'tis not enough."
When she said that, Lawrence could only shrug with a sigh.
"Anyway. I am practiced at caring for wheat, and the markets in both the village and the town have decided that 'tis a woman's job."
"So that's why it's called a 'mixing girl.'"
Every job had its own responsibilities and its own territory. Even in towns that Lawrence thought he knew everything about, there were still some things that a man would never notice.
"I have heard that there are also songs to sing when mixing. Sounds delightful."
She did not often join in on the festivities in the bathhouse, but Holo did sometimes sing and dance.
When he imagined her sticking her arm in a sack stuffed with wheat, humming cheerfully as she did so, Lawrence found it endearing.
"Don't let your guard down and start wagging your tail."
"I am not a dog!"
As Holo glared at him, their hands intertwined, they made their way down to the port.
After inquiring from people on the street at the port, they headed to a district lined with warehouses where they would most likely find the work in question, and sure enough, among the many cargo handlers and merchants, there were a few women here and there. Lawrence had also noticed that there were women about when he visited the harbor, of course, but it never crossed his mind what sort of work they might be doing.
Being a mixing girl apparently required wearing short sleeves, even in the middle of winter, so when he saw that all the women were wearing short sleeves, he only felt embarrassed at how clueless he was.
"Ah, will you be working, miss?"
After asking people passing by on the street, they met a little old man, gripping a pen, who supervised the mixing girl work at the notary office by the warehouses.
He seemed like a regular kind old man at first, but they could see countless scars on his skin, which had been terribly weathered by the sun, and the bones in his fingers were unusually fat. He was likely well-known as a cargo handler and had shouldered the processing of goods when he was younger.
"We're always in need of more people this time of year. Have you handled wheat before, miss?"
"Should you ask me to produce buds on any stalk of wheat, I would be able to do so straightaway, given that it is not cooked."
Holo the Wisewolf, who resided in wheat and controlled its harvest, really could do that, but the old man of reception of course only smiled.
"How promising. Then I'll have you start work right away. Oh, but roll up your sleeves, please. That is your uniform for this work. All the other short-sleeved girls will come to your aid if they see you wrapped up in trouble with any of the cargo handlers."
"Aye."
As Lawrence watched Holo gleefully roll up her sleeves, he felt the old man's gaze on him.
"And are you here to help with the cargo, sir? You seem like you can read and write, so maybe transcribing work. We have plenty of both."
Lawrence was flustered, having the conversation suddenly turn to him.
"Er, I..."
He also had plenty of work to do. He had to sell the sulfur powder that he had accepted in Nyohhira, and he had to obtain the small change that they lacked.
"Hmm? Oh, pardon me, you're not married, are you?"
"Uh, well—"
Just as Lawrence was about to answer, Holo butted in.
"This fool spends his days drunk in the room whilst making only me work."
"Hey!"

Output:
"Oh-ho. Well, everyone has their tastes, so I won't blame you for falling for a layabout, but it will be hard work for you."
"Aye. I am well aware."
When Holo and the old man with his missing tooth smiled at each other, Lawrence could do nothing but sigh.
"Well, most of the mixing girls are like that. That goes without saying, though."
"Well, what can I say. The more of a handful they are, the more fun it is."
The old man made a vexed smile and then called on the next girl in line behind them.
"And so I shall work admirably."
"Sure."
Lawrence responded with a sigh, and Holo gave a delightfully bright smile.
Working as a mixing girl seemed to suit Holo's personality well. Plenty of different kinds of wheat came from all over to the port, and just looking at it was enjoyable enough for her, so it was even more so when she was mixing and learning new things. Wheat husks stuck to her fluffy tail, Holo cheerfully wrote about her work as she spoke to Lawrence right up until she fell asleep.
Then, on the night of the second day, she also started to talk about the other mixing girls she worked with. There was, of all people, a traveling dancer who had also worked in Nyohhira, and they were surprised to see each other. There still were no guests in Nyohhira at this time of year, so she was earning a little pocket change in the meanwhile.
Of course, most of the women who worked as mixing girls were locals, and most of them were either poor or widows. Though it was a given, one could not make a whole lot of money mixing wheat.
Men could not take on this job in order to guarantee work for women who had nowhere else to make money, and it was also so the women did not end up on the wrong path and in ruin.
That being said, just as the old man at reception had mentioned, Holo said there were plenty who had ended up as mixing girls after finding themselves in ruin. Their romantic partners were good-for-nothings who had everything taken away from them by either alcohol or gambling.
"'Tis much like me." Holo had pretended to cry and then flapped her tail about happily. She was in the best mood whenever she got to tease Lawrence like that.
It was the third day, when he saw her off as she energetically made her way to work at the port.
Holo's joke wasn't entirely wrong, Lawrence thought to himself at the herring egg exchange.
"What is the meaning of this? They're closing the exchange?!"
Merchants yelled and the building shook. It was only times like this that he was not given any food or drink and simply stared hard at the board showing the prices of herring eggs.
Lawrence had come to the exchange because just after he had written a letter to a friendly company in the room, a member of the Debau Company came to give him the news.
He had been told that there was a problem with the herring egg exchange.
He rushed over after hearing that and found the whole place in confusion with talk over the exchange closing and everyone bellowing in rage at one another.
"God forbids fortune-telling. And gambling is nothing more than fortune-telling."
Standing there in the exchange, where great sums of money and greed flew back and forth, were several people who seemed completely out of place.
They were priests, clad in clerical robes.
"What's happening here is the exchange of herring eggs—not gambling!"
Someone yelled and a whole group of merchants surrounded the priests and glowered at them. Yet—no, because of that, the five or so priests did not recoil, keeping their dignified stances, and then spoke.
"How peculiar. You are conducting trade over herring eggs that do not yet exist here. That is no different from reading omens of the future."
The one who spoke with clear-cut logic was a young man who seemed to be the very picture of seriousness.