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

Input:
There were three wagons in all, each drawn by a pair of horses. The wagons lacked drivers' seats, and one well-dressed man sat in the bed of the last cart while a hired laborer guided each cart as he walked.
Lawrence was impressed by the extravagance of using two horses per wagon, but as they got closer to the caravan, he realized it was not just for show.
Piled on the wagon beds were barrels and crates big enough to hold a person. Some had been filled with water—apparently for the captured fish to swim in.
Unsalted fish of any kind was a luxury. Live fish was all the more so.
Although the transport of live fish was rare in and of itself, there was something else about the caravan that surprised Lawrence even more.
The person who evidently transported these three large wagons of fresh fish was a merchant even younger than Lawrence.
"Fish, you say?" said the young man in the last cart, responding to Lawrence's question. He wore the traditional oiled leather coat of a fishmonger.
"Yes, I was wondering if you might sell me a few," said Lawrence, who had traded places with Holo.
The young merchant's reply was quick. "I'm terribly sorry, all of our fish have been spoken for already."
It was an unexpected answer; the young man seemed to realize the surprise he had caused in Lawrence, and he pulled back his hood to show his face properly.
The young man's face was as boyish as his youthful voice. Though he could not strictly be called a "boy," he was certainly not yet twenty. Fishmongers were a generally rough and manly lot, but this young man was unusually slender. His wavy blond hair only added to his aura of refinement.
Even if the man was as young as he looked, the fact that he transported three wagonloads of fresh fish meant he was not a merchant to be underestimated.
"You'll pardon me for asking, but are you a traveling merchant?" asked the lad.
Lawrence couldn't tell whether the young man's smile was genuine or mercantile, but in any case, the only reasonable response was to smile back. "Yes, I've just come from Ruvinheigen."
"I see. Well, there's a lake about a half day's journey up the road we've just come down. I'm sure you can deal with the fishermen there. They're bringing in excellent carp of late."
"Ah, no, I'm not buying for business. I was merely hoping you could sell me a few fish for dinner. That is all."
The young merchant's smile quickly disappeared in favor of surprise—this was probably the first time he had heard such a request.
A merchant hauling salted fish over long distances would be quite used to selling a little on the road, but such a practice was quite out of the ordinary when transporting fresh fish from a nearby lake.
The young merchant's expression of surprise soon shifted to one of careful consideration.
Having met with an unexpected situation, he was probably trying to decide whether there was a new business to be had here.
"You're quite serious about your trade," said Lawrence.
"Oh—," said the lad, returning to himself and obviously flustered. "My apologies! Er, incidentally, if you're looking for fish for dinner, you must be stopping in Kumersun, yes?"
"Indeed. For the winter market and also to take in the festival."
Kumersun was the name of the city they were bound for, just in time for the town's great market, which was held twice a year in the summer and the winter.
There was also a festival that coincided with the winter market.
Lawrence didn't know the specifics, but he had heard it was a pagan celebration that would make any devout follower of the Church faint dead away.
Six days' travel north from Ruvinheigen, a city which even now functioned as a resupply depot for Church-funded incursions against pagans, relations between Church followers and pagans were not as simple as they were in the south.

Output:
Kumersun belonging as it did to the nobility of Ploania, distanced itself from troublesome religious issues. It was a large town devoted to economic prosperity, and the Church was forbidden from proselytizing there. Inquiring as to whether the town's festival was of the Church faith or the pagan one was likewise prohibited—the explanation being that it was simply a tradition of the town.
Given that such festivals were a rarity and that pagans could safely attend them, people would pack themselves into the town every year to attend the event, which was known as the Laddora festival.
Based on what Lawrence had heard, he planned to arrive a bit early in order to beat the crowds, but it seemed he'd been naive.
"Might I ask if you've already arranged for accommodations?" asked the young merchant with worry on his face.
"The festival is the day after tomorrow. Surely the inns aren't all occupied already."
"I assure you, they are."
Holo shifted restlessly next to Lawrence, no doubt worried about where they would stay.
Whatever her abilities in wolf form, Holo's human form was just as susceptible to cold as a true human. She wanted to get out of the cold weather just as much as Lawrence did.
Lawrence had an idea.
"Ah, but the trade guilds will have made arrangements to put their members up for the great market, so I'll inquire with them," he said.
Contacting the trade guild would mean enduring endless questioning about Holo, so Lawrence would have preferred to avoid asking any favors from them, but it didn't seem like that would be possible.
"Oh, you are associated with a trade guild—might I ask which guild?" inquired the merchant.
"The Rowen Trade Guild out of Kumersun."
The young merchant's face brightened instantly. "What a wonderful coincidence! I, too, am a member of the Rowen Guild."
"Ah, surely God has ordained this...Ah, I suppose such talk is taboo here."
"Ha-ha, do not worry. I, too, am a Church follower from the south."
The young merchant smiled, then gave a small, polite cough. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fermi Amati, a fish dealer out of Kumersun. I go by Amati in business."
"I'm Kraft Lawrence, a traveling merchant—likewise, I go by Lawrence."
They each sat on their respective wagons, but were nonetheless close enough to shake hands.
Lawrence would now have to introduce Holo.
"This is Holo, my traveling companion. Circumstances have led to her accompanying me, though she is not my wife," said Lawrence with a smile. Holo inclined her head in Amati's direction, looking at him with a small smile.
Holo was quite something when she deigned to be polite.
A flustered Amati reintroduced himself, his cheeks flushed. "Is Miss Holo...a nun?"
"She is a nun on a pilgrimage or something like it, yes."
It wasn't only men whose hearts were stirred into piety; women also regularly went on pilgrimage.
Such women generally introduced themselves as nuns, rather than giving their true identity as townswomen on pilgrimage, since this tended to avoid various troubles.
However, as entering Kumersun dressed in clothes that were instantly recognizable as Church garb presented problems, the custom was to attach three feathers somewhere on the clothing. Holo's cloak indeed had three magnificent, brown chicken feathers pinned to it.
Despite his youth, Amati understood all of this instantly, hailing from the south as he did.
He did not inquire further, reasoning that the young woman probably had a good reason to be traveling with a merchant in such a fashion.
"In any case, the troubles we encounter on our journeys are naught but tests from the heavens. I say this because while I may be able to arrange for a single room, two rooms may unfortunately be difficult," said Amati.


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

Input:
Kumersun belonging as it did to the nobility of Ploania, distanced itself from troublesome religious issues. It was a large town devoted to economic prosperity, and the Church was forbidden from proselytizing there. Inquiring as to whether the town's festival was of the Church faith or the pagan one was likewise prohibited—the explanation being that it was simply a tradition of the town.
Given that such festivals were a rarity and that pagans could safely attend them, people would pack themselves into the town every year to attend the event, which was known as the Laddora festival.
Based on what Lawrence had heard, he planned to arrive a bit early in order to beat the crowds, but it seemed he'd been naive.
"Might I ask if you've already arranged for accommodations?" asked the young merchant with worry on his face.
"The festival is the day after tomorrow. Surely the inns aren't all occupied already."
"I assure you, they are."
Holo shifted restlessly next to Lawrence, no doubt worried about where they would stay.
Whatever her abilities in wolf form, Holo's human form was just as susceptible to cold as a true human. She wanted to get out of the cold weather just as much as Lawrence did.
Lawrence had an idea.
"Ah, but the trade guilds will have made arrangements to put their members up for the great market, so I'll inquire with them," he said.
Contacting the trade guild would mean enduring endless questioning about Holo, so Lawrence would have preferred to avoid asking any favors from them, but it didn't seem like that would be possible.
"Oh, you are associated with a trade guild—might I ask which guild?" inquired the merchant.
"The Rowen Trade Guild out of Kumersun."
The young merchant's face brightened instantly. "What a wonderful coincidence! I, too, am a member of the Rowen Guild."
"Ah, surely God has ordained this...Ah, I suppose such talk is taboo here."
"Ha-ha, do not worry. I, too, am a Church follower from the south."
The young merchant smiled, then gave a small, polite cough. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fermi Amati, a fish dealer out of Kumersun. I go by Amati in business."
"I'm Kraft Lawrence, a traveling merchant—likewise, I go by Lawrence."
They each sat on their respective wagons, but were nonetheless close enough to shake hands.
Lawrence would now have to introduce Holo.
"This is Holo, my traveling companion. Circumstances have led to her accompanying me, though she is not my wife," said Lawrence with a smile. Holo inclined her head in Amati's direction, looking at him with a small smile.
Holo was quite something when she deigned to be polite.
A flustered Amati reintroduced himself, his cheeks flushed. "Is Miss Holo...a nun?"
"She is a nun on a pilgrimage or something like it, yes."
It wasn't only men whose hearts were stirred into piety; women also regularly went on pilgrimage.
Such women generally introduced themselves as nuns, rather than giving their true identity as townswomen on pilgrimage, since this tended to avoid various troubles.
However, as entering Kumersun dressed in clothes that were instantly recognizable as Church garb presented problems, the custom was to attach three feathers somewhere on the clothing. Holo's cloak indeed had three magnificent, brown chicken feathers pinned to it.
Despite his youth, Amati understood all of this instantly, hailing from the south as he did.
He did not inquire further, reasoning that the young woman probably had a good reason to be traveling with a merchant in such a fashion.
"In any case, the troubles we encounter on our journeys are naught but tests from the heavens. I say this because while I may be able to arrange for a single room, two rooms may unfortunately be difficult," said Amati.

Output:
"You're quite right, but I don't think we can impose upon you so."
"I'm a businessman, so naturally this is a business proposal. I hope that you will enjoy lots of delicious fish while staying at the inn."
Despite his youth, this Amati with his three wagonloads of fresh fish was clearly a man to be reckoned with.
This was the very image of a shrewd operator.
"You're quite a trader. We'll be happy to take you up on your offer," said Lawrence, half-jealous and half-grateful.
"Understood. Please leave the arrangements to me."
Amati smiled, and for just a moment, his gaze flicked away from Lawrence.
Lawrence pretended not to notice, but Amati had clearly looked at Holo.
It was possible he had been generous not only out of a shrewd business sense, but also from a desire to show his best side to Holo.
For a moment, Lawrence indulged himself in a sense of superiority, as he was the one traveling with Holo, but such silly thoughts would surely bring her ridicule upon him.
He banished the notion from his mind and gave his attention to the task of improving his relationship with the successful young fish merchant before him.
It was only as the sun began to set that they arrived, finally, in Kumersun.
The dinner table was arranged around a bowl of soup made with slices of carp and root vegetables, around which were situated a variety of shellfish dishes.
Amati the fish merchant's presence surely influenced the cuisine, which was quite different from the meat-based meals of the south. It was the steamed snails that stood out the most.
Sea snails were thought to aid longevity, whereas freshwater snails brought only stomach cramps, so they were avoided in the south, where only bivalve shellfish were eaten. The Church even forbade eating snails, claiming that evil spirits inhabited them.
However, that was more practical advice than it was the teachings of God as laid out in scripture. Lawrence himself had long ago become lost, and having arrived at a river, he resorted to eating snails. The memory of the excruciating stomach pain they caused him had made him avoid eating them ever since.
Fortunately the meals were not served in individual portions, and Holo seemed to enjoy the snails greatly.
Lawrence left all the food he couldn't stomach to Holo.
"Hmm. So this is what shellfish tastes like, eh?" said Holo, impressed, as she ate snail after snail, pried free from their shells with a knife Lawrence lent her. For Lawrence's part, he was digging into a salt-broiled river barracuda.
"Don't eat too much, or you'll get a stomachache."
"Mm?"
"Evil spirits live in those river snails. Eat them carelessly, and you'll regret it."
Holo took a quick look at the snail she had just extracted from its shell, then cocked her head, and popped it into her mouth. "Just who do you think I am? It's not just the quality of wheat I can judge."
"Didn't you say something about eating spicy peppers and regretting it?"
Holo seemed to take offense at the reminder.
"Even I can't determine taste purely from appearance. They were bright red, I'll have you know—like a perfectly ripened fruit," said Holo as she extracted yet another snail. Occasionally she would pause to put her cup to her lips and take a drink, closing her eyes as she did so.
Since the region fell outside the Church's baleful eye, distilled liquor—which the Church felt was dangerous—was freely sold and drunk here.
Holo's cup was filled with a nearly transparent liquor known as burnwine.
"Shall I order you something sweeter?"
***
Holo shook her head wordlessly, but with her eyes so tightly shut, Lawrence was sure that if he peeked under her robe, he would find her tail fluffed out like a bottlebrush.
At length, she drained the cup, and exhaling deeply, she wiped the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.


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

Input:
"You're quite right, but I don't think we can impose upon you so."
"I'm a businessman, so naturally this is a business proposal. I hope that you will enjoy lots of delicious fish while staying at the inn."
Despite his youth, this Amati with his three wagonloads of fresh fish was clearly a man to be reckoned with.
This was the very image of a shrewd operator.
"You're quite a trader. We'll be happy to take you up on your offer," said Lawrence, half-jealous and half-grateful.
"Understood. Please leave the arrangements to me."
Amati smiled, and for just a moment, his gaze flicked away from Lawrence.
Lawrence pretended not to notice, but Amati had clearly looked at Holo.
It was possible he had been generous not only out of a shrewd business sense, but also from a desire to show his best side to Holo.
For a moment, Lawrence indulged himself in a sense of superiority, as he was the one traveling with Holo, but such silly thoughts would surely bring her ridicule upon him.
He banished the notion from his mind and gave his attention to the task of improving his relationship with the successful young fish merchant before him.
It was only as the sun began to set that they arrived, finally, in Kumersun.
The dinner table was arranged around a bowl of soup made with slices of carp and root vegetables, around which were situated a variety of shellfish dishes.
Amati the fish merchant's presence surely influenced the cuisine, which was quite different from the meat-based meals of the south. It was the steamed snails that stood out the most.
Sea snails were thought to aid longevity, whereas freshwater snails brought only stomach cramps, so they were avoided in the south, where only bivalve shellfish were eaten. The Church even forbade eating snails, claiming that evil spirits inhabited them.
However, that was more practical advice than it was the teachings of God as laid out in scripture. Lawrence himself had long ago become lost, and having arrived at a river, he resorted to eating snails. The memory of the excruciating stomach pain they caused him had made him avoid eating them ever since.
Fortunately the meals were not served in individual portions, and Holo seemed to enjoy the snails greatly.
Lawrence left all the food he couldn't stomach to Holo.
"Hmm. So this is what shellfish tastes like, eh?" said Holo, impressed, as she ate snail after snail, pried free from their shells with a knife Lawrence lent her. For Lawrence's part, he was digging into a salt-broiled river barracuda.
"Don't eat too much, or you'll get a stomachache."
"Mm?"
"Evil spirits live in those river snails. Eat them carelessly, and you'll regret it."
Holo took a quick look at the snail she had just extracted from its shell, then cocked her head, and popped it into her mouth. "Just who do you think I am? It's not just the quality of wheat I can judge."
"Didn't you say something about eating spicy peppers and regretting it?"
Holo seemed to take offense at the reminder.
"Even I can't determine taste purely from appearance. They were bright red, I'll have you know—like a perfectly ripened fruit," said Holo as she extracted yet another snail. Occasionally she would pause to put her cup to her lips and take a drink, closing her eyes as she did so.
Since the region fell outside the Church's baleful eye, distilled liquor—which the Church felt was dangerous—was freely sold and drunk here.
Holo's cup was filled with a nearly transparent liquor known as burnwine.
"Shall I order you something sweeter?"
***
Holo shook her head wordlessly, but with her eyes so tightly shut, Lawrence was sure that if he peeked under her robe, he would find her tail fluffed out like a bottlebrush.
At length, she drained the cup, and exhaling deeply, she wiped the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.

Output:
Holo had changed clothes before dinner and come to give her regards to Amati once again. Amati's face was so pathetic from Holo's charms that not only Lawrence, but also the innkeeper had been unable to avoid laughing.
As if to add to her burden of sins even more, Holo greeted Amati with even more grace and charm than she normally used.
However, if Amati was to see Holo's ravenous eating and drinking, no doubt he would quickly awaken from his dreams.
Holo sniffed. "'Tis a nostalgic flavor," she said, her eyes a bit teary, either from the liquor or the memories of her homeland.
It was true that the farther north one went, the more common such soul-shaking liquor.
"I can hardly tell any flavor at all when the liquor's been so distilled," said Lawrence.
Perhaps tired of snails, Holo reached for the baked and boiled fish, answering happily as she did so.
"One forgets the sight of something after only ten years, but the taste and the scents linger in the mind for many tens of years longer. This liquor brings back many memories. It's not unlike the liquor of Yoitsu, you know."
"Strong drink is common in the north. Is this all you ever drunk?" Lawrence looked from the contents of the cup to Holo's face.
"Sweeter liquor hardly suits a wisewolf of such noble stature," she answered proudly, a bit of fish clinging to the corner of her mouth.
Of course, based on her appearance, it was sweet milk and honey that would best suit Holo, but Lawrence chuckled and agreed with her.
Surely the taste of the liquor had brought back memories of her homeland.
Holo's happy smile could not be explained away simply by the fact of their first delicious meal in some time.
Hers was the delight of a girl who had received an unexpected gift—the first concrete evidence that they were drawing near to Yoitsu and her home.
Yet Lawrence found himself looking away.
It wasn't that he was afraid of his gaze being noticed and of receiving the teasing that would surely follow.
The fact was that he heard Yoitsu had long since been razed to the ground; Lawrence had concealed this from Holo since the beginning of their partnership. Keeping this secret turned Holo's happy smile into a blinding sun too painful to look at.
He couldn't bring himself to destroy the pleasant evening meal.
To avoid Holo noticing his turmoil, Lawrence forcibly turned his thoughts to other things. He smiled at Holo, who reached for the carp stew.
"I see you've taken to the stew?"
"Mm. Who would have guessed that carp, boiled, would be so tasty? Another bowl, please."
The large bowl holding the carp stew was outside Holo's reach, so Lawrence retrieved it for her, but each time he did so, more onions appeared on his wooden plate. It seemed that even boiled, Holo couldn't stand onions.
"Where'd you manage to eat carp? There aren't many places that serve it."
"Hm? I got it from the river. They're sluggish creatures, easy to snare."
Lawrence understood—she'd gone fishing in her wolf form.
"I've never had raw carp. Is it good?" he asked.
"The scales get stuck twixt my teeth, and there are too many bones. I'd seen fish swallow the smaller ones whole and so imagined them to be delicious, but in the end, they did not suit me."
Lawrence imagined Holo's huge form as she wolfed down a large carp headfirst.
Carp were renowned for their long life and were both revered as holy and reviled as tools of the devil by the Church. For that reason, the eating of carp was confined to the north.
To be fair, it seemed mildly ridiculous to hold the carp, with its moderate longevity, in such esteem when there were wolves like Holo wandering about.
"Human cooking is indeed good, but it's not just that—the fish was chosen very well. That Amati lad has quite an eye."
"For his age, yes. And that was quite a load he was moving."
"And on the other hand, there's you. What was it you're hauling, again?" Holo's eyes were suddenly cold.
"Hm? Nails. Like this table...Oh, I guess it doesn't use them."


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

Input:
Holo had changed clothes before dinner and come to give her regards to Amati once again. Amati's face was so pathetic from Holo's charms that not only Lawrence, but also the innkeeper had been unable to avoid laughing.
As if to add to her burden of sins even more, Holo greeted Amati with even more grace and charm than she normally used.
However, if Amati was to see Holo's ravenous eating and drinking, no doubt he would quickly awaken from his dreams.
Holo sniffed. "'Tis a nostalgic flavor," she said, her eyes a bit teary, either from the liquor or the memories of her homeland.
It was true that the farther north one went, the more common such soul-shaking liquor.
"I can hardly tell any flavor at all when the liquor's been so distilled," said Lawrence.
Perhaps tired of snails, Holo reached for the baked and boiled fish, answering happily as she did so.
"One forgets the sight of something after only ten years, but the taste and the scents linger in the mind for many tens of years longer. This liquor brings back many memories. It's not unlike the liquor of Yoitsu, you know."
"Strong drink is common in the north. Is this all you ever drunk?" Lawrence looked from the contents of the cup to Holo's face.
"Sweeter liquor hardly suits a wisewolf of such noble stature," she answered proudly, a bit of fish clinging to the corner of her mouth.
Of course, based on her appearance, it was sweet milk and honey that would best suit Holo, but Lawrence chuckled and agreed with her.
Surely the taste of the liquor had brought back memories of her homeland.
Holo's happy smile could not be explained away simply by the fact of their first delicious meal in some time.
Hers was the delight of a girl who had received an unexpected gift—the first concrete evidence that they were drawing near to Yoitsu and her home.
Yet Lawrence found himself looking away.
It wasn't that he was afraid of his gaze being noticed and of receiving the teasing that would surely follow.
The fact was that he heard Yoitsu had long since been razed to the ground; Lawrence had concealed this from Holo since the beginning of their partnership. Keeping this secret turned Holo's happy smile into a blinding sun too painful to look at.
He couldn't bring himself to destroy the pleasant evening meal.
To avoid Holo noticing his turmoil, Lawrence forcibly turned his thoughts to other things. He smiled at Holo, who reached for the carp stew.
"I see you've taken to the stew?"
"Mm. Who would have guessed that carp, boiled, would be so tasty? Another bowl, please."
The large bowl holding the carp stew was outside Holo's reach, so Lawrence retrieved it for her, but each time he did so, more onions appeared on his wooden plate. It seemed that even boiled, Holo couldn't stand onions.
"Where'd you manage to eat carp? There aren't many places that serve it."
"Hm? I got it from the river. They're sluggish creatures, easy to snare."
Lawrence understood—she'd gone fishing in her wolf form.
"I've never had raw carp. Is it good?" he asked.
"The scales get stuck twixt my teeth, and there are too many bones. I'd seen fish swallow the smaller ones whole and so imagined them to be delicious, but in the end, they did not suit me."
Lawrence imagined Holo's huge form as she wolfed down a large carp headfirst.
Carp were renowned for their long life and were both revered as holy and reviled as tools of the devil by the Church. For that reason, the eating of carp was confined to the north.
To be fair, it seemed mildly ridiculous to hold the carp, with its moderate longevity, in such esteem when there were wolves like Holo wandering about.
"Human cooking is indeed good, but it's not just that—the fish was chosen very well. That Amati lad has quite an eye."
"For his age, yes. And that was quite a load he was moving."
"And on the other hand, there's you. What was it you're hauling, again?" Holo's eyes were suddenly cold.
"Hm? Nails. Like this table...Oh, I guess it doesn't use them."

Output:
Lawrence felt rather aggrieved by this, but it was the truth, and so he could say nothing.
He had become overenthusiastic and bought armor on margin that amounted to roughly twice his personal net worth, and as a result, he had faced bankruptcy and lifelong slavery. In addition, he had caused Holo significant trouble and humiliation.
Having been humbled, Lawrence chose to buy simple nails on his way out of Ruvinheigen, to the tune of about four hundred silver trenni. It was a conservative purchase that left him with quite a bit of cash on hand.
"It may not be the grandest load, but it should turn a fair profit. And it's not as though there's nothing attractive in my wagon."
Holo cocked her head at Lawrence, holding a river barracuda in her mouth as though she were an alley cat.
Lawrence had come up with a nice bon mot.
He coughed slightly. "I mean, you're riding in it as well, after all."
It was a bit affected, but Lawrence flattered himself to think that it was a charming line nonetheless.
As he smiled, took a drink of his burnwine, and looked to Holo, he saw that she had stopped moving and seemed quite at a loss.
"...Well, I suppose that's about all you're capable of," she finally said with a sigh.
"You know, it wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer to me," said Lawrence.
"Ah, but if you treat a male too well, he'll soon come to expect it all the time. And then you'll hear naught but the same foolish words over and over."
"Ugh..." Lawrence couldn't let this slight go unanswered. "Fine, then. From now on I'll—"
"You dunce," said Holo, cutting him off. "How precious do you think a male's kindness is?"
"......" Lawrence frowned and escaped into his drink, but Holo was on the hunt now.
"And all I need do for your kindness is to seem downcast, nay?"
Her innocent face accused him, and Lawrence had no response.
Holo was unfair.
He looked at her, resentful, but she only smiled pleasantly.
Having finished their first proper meal in many days, Holo and Lawrence returned to their inn, where the streets were quiet.
They had arrived in Kumersun around sunset, but the streets had been much more congested than Lawrence anticipated.
If they hadn't encountered Amati, they certainly would have had to prevail upon the trade guild for a room and might even have wound up staying in a room at the guild house itself.
All around the city, wooden carvings and wheat dolls, whose inspiration was unclear, lined the streets, with bands and jesters flooding even the narrowest of alleyways.
The great market that took place in the large plaza in the south end of the city had its hours extended, and it bustled with an energy that befit the word festival. Even craftsmen who were normally not allowed to sell their wares here had stalls set up along the wide street.
Back in the inn, Lawrence opened the window to cool his body, still flushed from the strong liquor. He could yet see some shopkeepers tidying up their stalls, illuminated by moonlight.
The room that Amati had arranged for them was in one of the very finest inns in the town, one that Lawrence would never have considered staying at himself. The room was on the second floor, overlooking the wide street that ran from north to south through the center of the city, not far from the intersection with the street's east-west counterpart. Just as Holo had hoped, it had two beds. Of course, Lawrence could not help harboring a suspicion that the two beds of the room were also due to Amati's insistence.
It mollified Lawrence to think this, but he was still grateful for Amati's assistance, so he abandoned that train of thought and looked out onto the street.
Everybody on the wide boulevard seemed to be staggering home.
Lawrence chuckled and looked behind him to see Holo sitting cross-legged on the bed, pouring herself another cup of wine as if she hadn't already had enough to drink.
"Don't come crying to me if you're hungover tomorrow. Have you already forgotten what happened in Pazzio?"


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

Input:
Lawrence felt rather aggrieved by this, but it was the truth, and so he could say nothing.
He had become overenthusiastic and bought armor on margin that amounted to roughly twice his personal net worth, and as a result, he had faced bankruptcy and lifelong slavery. In addition, he had caused Holo significant trouble and humiliation.
Having been humbled, Lawrence chose to buy simple nails on his way out of Ruvinheigen, to the tune of about four hundred silver trenni. It was a conservative purchase that left him with quite a bit of cash on hand.
"It may not be the grandest load, but it should turn a fair profit. And it's not as though there's nothing attractive in my wagon."
Holo cocked her head at Lawrence, holding a river barracuda in her mouth as though she were an alley cat.
Lawrence had come up with a nice bon mot.
He coughed slightly. "I mean, you're riding in it as well, after all."
It was a bit affected, but Lawrence flattered himself to think that it was a charming line nonetheless.
As he smiled, took a drink of his burnwine, and looked to Holo, he saw that she had stopped moving and seemed quite at a loss.
"...Well, I suppose that's about all you're capable of," she finally said with a sigh.
"You know, it wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer to me," said Lawrence.
"Ah, but if you treat a male too well, he'll soon come to expect it all the time. And then you'll hear naught but the same foolish words over and over."
"Ugh..." Lawrence couldn't let this slight go unanswered. "Fine, then. From now on I'll—"
"You dunce," said Holo, cutting him off. "How precious do you think a male's kindness is?"
"......" Lawrence frowned and escaped into his drink, but Holo was on the hunt now.
"And all I need do for your kindness is to seem downcast, nay?"
Her innocent face accused him, and Lawrence had no response.
Holo was unfair.
He looked at her, resentful, but she only smiled pleasantly.
Having finished their first proper meal in many days, Holo and Lawrence returned to their inn, where the streets were quiet.
They had arrived in Kumersun around sunset, but the streets had been much more congested than Lawrence anticipated.
If they hadn't encountered Amati, they certainly would have had to prevail upon the trade guild for a room and might even have wound up staying in a room at the guild house itself.
All around the city, wooden carvings and wheat dolls, whose inspiration was unclear, lined the streets, with bands and jesters flooding even the narrowest of alleyways.
The great market that took place in the large plaza in the south end of the city had its hours extended, and it bustled with an energy that befit the word festival. Even craftsmen who were normally not allowed to sell their wares here had stalls set up along the wide street.
Back in the inn, Lawrence opened the window to cool his body, still flushed from the strong liquor. He could yet see some shopkeepers tidying up their stalls, illuminated by moonlight.
The room that Amati had arranged for them was in one of the very finest inns in the town, one that Lawrence would never have considered staying at himself. The room was on the second floor, overlooking the wide street that ran from north to south through the center of the city, not far from the intersection with the street's east-west counterpart. Just as Holo had hoped, it had two beds. Of course, Lawrence could not help harboring a suspicion that the two beds of the room were also due to Amati's insistence.
It mollified Lawrence to think this, but he was still grateful for Amati's assistance, so he abandoned that train of thought and looked out onto the street.
Everybody on the wide boulevard seemed to be staggering home.
Lawrence chuckled and looked behind him to see Holo sitting cross-legged on the bed, pouring herself another cup of wine as if she hadn't already had enough to drink.
"Don't come crying to me if you're hungover tomorrow. Have you already forgotten what happened in Pazzio?"

Output:
Now finished pouring, she happily put the cup to her lips, then ate a bit of dried trout left over from dinner.
Left to her own devices, Holo would most likely eat and drink herself into a stupor, but Lawrence was still grateful for her pleasant mood.
He had to broach a subject that was far from his favorite.
The reason he had altered his usual yearly route, which included Kumersun only in the summer months, was because he was heading for Holo's homeland.
Lawrence was not clear on precisely where Holo's home of Yoitsu was. Although he had heard of its name, that was in a story from ancient times, which provided no concrete sense of its location.
He had avoided pressing her for more information thus far, because every time the subject came up, she would smile with nostalgia but soon sink into a depression at the realization of the distance, both temporal and spatial, that separated her from home.
As sad as it was, that was reason enough for him to hesitate to bring up Yoitsu.
But if Lawrence were to mention it now that they were closer, there would be nothing to be sad about, he decided. He sat on the desk that was placed against one wall and spoke.
"So, before you're three sheets to the wind, there's something I want to ask you."
Holo's exposed ears immediately pricked up.
Her gaze soon followed. "What might that be?"
Evidently her keen wolf senses had already picked up that Lawrence was not engaging in idle banter. A thin smile curled her lips, a sure sign of her good mood.
Lawrence forced the words out of his mouth. "It's about your home village."
Holo immediately grinned and took another sip.
This was odd; Lawrence had expected her to turn serious at the mention of Yoitsu.
Just as he concluded that she must already be drunk, Holo swallowed her wine and spoke.
"So you don't know where it is, eh? I was starting to wonder when you were going to ask." Then looking down as if gazing at the reflection of her smile in the wine, Holo said, "Do you really think I go to pieces at every mention of Yoitsu? Do I seem so weak?"
Lawrence considered mentioning the time she had cried over a dream of her homeland, but Holo was certainly aware of this. Her tail wagged happily.
"Not at all," said Lawrence.
"Fool. That was your chance to say 'Aye, you do!'"
Her tail flicked once, as if she had received the answer she actually wanted.
"Still, you do worry over the strangest things. So you decided to finally bring this up now, after seeing my mood at supper? Such a soft touch." She giggled as she drank her wine, then continued, "I can't say it doesn't make me happy, though it's mostly your foolishness that is so amusing. Did you plan on getting lost in the northlands before finally asking me?"
Lawrence shrugged. "Will you tell me where Yoitsu is, so I don't look any more foolish than I have to?"
Holo paused, taking a sip from her cup.
She gave a long sigh.
"I do not exactly remember."
She continued, as if to preempt Lawrence's imminent protest that she had to have been joking.
"I know the direction, certainly. It is that way."
Lawrence looked in the direction she pointed, which was obviously north.
"But I do not remember how many mountains to cross, nor how many rivers, nor how long one most walk across the plains. I had thought I would remember as we get closer—will that not do?"
"Can't you even give me a hint as to where it might be? The path is not a straight one, and once we arrive in the north country, maps will be hard to come by. Depending on the location, the path could be very roundabout. Do you remember the names of any nearby places, for example?"
Holo pondered this for a moment, a finger pressed to her temple. "I remember Yoitsu and Nyohhira. And...hmm...What was it...Pi—"
"Pi?"
"Pire...no, Piro...That's right! Pirohmoten."
Holo seemed quite happy to have recalled the name, but Lawrence only cocked his head. "I haven't heard of that place. Is there anything else?"


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

Input:
Now finished pouring, she happily put the cup to her lips, then ate a bit of dried trout left over from dinner.
Left to her own devices, Holo would most likely eat and drink herself into a stupor, but Lawrence was still grateful for her pleasant mood.
He had to broach a subject that was far from his favorite.
The reason he had altered his usual yearly route, which included Kumersun only in the summer months, was because he was heading for Holo's homeland.
Lawrence was not clear on precisely where Holo's home of Yoitsu was. Although he had heard of its name, that was in a story from ancient times, which provided no concrete sense of its location.
He had avoided pressing her for more information thus far, because every time the subject came up, she would smile with nostalgia but soon sink into a depression at the realization of the distance, both temporal and spatial, that separated her from home.
As sad as it was, that was reason enough for him to hesitate to bring up Yoitsu.
But if Lawrence were to mention it now that they were closer, there would be nothing to be sad about, he decided. He sat on the desk that was placed against one wall and spoke.
"So, before you're three sheets to the wind, there's something I want to ask you."
Holo's exposed ears immediately pricked up.
Her gaze soon followed. "What might that be?"
Evidently her keen wolf senses had already picked up that Lawrence was not engaging in idle banter. A thin smile curled her lips, a sure sign of her good mood.
Lawrence forced the words out of his mouth. "It's about your home village."
Holo immediately grinned and took another sip.
This was odd; Lawrence had expected her to turn serious at the mention of Yoitsu.
Just as he concluded that she must already be drunk, Holo swallowed her wine and spoke.
"So you don't know where it is, eh? I was starting to wonder when you were going to ask." Then looking down as if gazing at the reflection of her smile in the wine, Holo said, "Do you really think I go to pieces at every mention of Yoitsu? Do I seem so weak?"
Lawrence considered mentioning the time she had cried over a dream of her homeland, but Holo was certainly aware of this. Her tail wagged happily.
"Not at all," said Lawrence.
"Fool. That was your chance to say 'Aye, you do!'"
Her tail flicked once, as if she had received the answer she actually wanted.
"Still, you do worry over the strangest things. So you decided to finally bring this up now, after seeing my mood at supper? Such a soft touch." She giggled as she drank her wine, then continued, "I can't say it doesn't make me happy, though it's mostly your foolishness that is so amusing. Did you plan on getting lost in the northlands before finally asking me?"
Lawrence shrugged. "Will you tell me where Yoitsu is, so I don't look any more foolish than I have to?"
Holo paused, taking a sip from her cup.
She gave a long sigh.
"I do not exactly remember."
She continued, as if to preempt Lawrence's imminent protest that she had to have been joking.
"I know the direction, certainly. It is that way."
Lawrence looked in the direction she pointed, which was obviously north.
"But I do not remember how many mountains to cross, nor how many rivers, nor how long one most walk across the plains. I had thought I would remember as we get closer—will that not do?"
"Can't you even give me a hint as to where it might be? The path is not a straight one, and once we arrive in the north country, maps will be hard to come by. Depending on the location, the path could be very roundabout. Do you remember the names of any nearby places, for example?"
Holo pondered this for a moment, a finger pressed to her temple. "I remember Yoitsu and Nyohhira. And...hmm...What was it...Pi—"
"Pi?"
"Pire...no, Piro...That's right! Pirohmoten."
Holo seemed quite happy to have recalled the name, but Lawrence only cocked his head. "I haven't heard of that place. Is there anything else?"

Output:
It was true; Lawrence had been surprised by this the first time he visited the north. He had arrived at a certain town and found that its name was used only by travelers. Neither its residents nor the people living nearby knew or cared about the town's name.
There were elderly people who claimed that naming a town would bring it to the attention of evil spirits.
Undoubtedly what they really meant by "evil spirits" was the Church.
"Well, we'll start at Nyohhira, then. I know where that is."
"That name brings back such memories. Are the hot springs still there?"
"I've heard that nobles and bishops secretly visit the town for its hot springs, despite the fact that it's in pagan lands. According to rumor, it's even exempt from Church attacks because of those same hot springs."
"Those springs don't belong to any one group, after all," said Holo before coughing slightly. "If Nyohhira's our goal, then from Nyohhira it is that way."
Holo pointed southwest—not north to Lawrence's relief.
Any farther north than Nyohhira meant lands where the snow never melted, even in the summer.
Yet even knowing that Yoitsu was southwest of Nyohhira left too wide a region.
"How long did it take to get from Nyohhira to Yoitsu?"
"For me, two days. For a human...I do not know."
Lawrence thought back to the time he had ridden on Holo's back when she was in wolf form, near Ruvinheigen. She would have no trouble traversing unimproved roads.
That left too much area to search, even starting from Nyohhira. Searching for a town that itself might only be a tiny village would be like looking for a needle in a desert. It was precisely because Lawrence himself was a traveling merchant, who was used to walking from town to town, that he understood the difficulty involved.
There was also still the fact that Lawrence had heard Yoitsu had been destroyed by a great bear spirit.
If that was true, finding the remains of a town that had been destroyed centuries earlier would be truly impossible.
Lawrence was not a nobleman with the luxury of passing his days in idleness. He could only stray from his original trade route for six months at the outside. His mistake in Ruvinheigen had set him still further back from his goal of opening a shop, and he did not have anything like a surplus of free time.
He was thinking all this over when something finally occurred to him.
"Could you not find it yourself from Nyohhira? You know the general direction, right?"
If it was just two days from Nyohhira, then just as Holo said, she would most likely be able to remember the details as she got closer.
The words had simply fallen from his mouth without any particular ill intent, but no sooner had Lawrence spoken than he realized his mistake.
Holo looked at him, stunned.
Surprise also registered on Lawrence's face as Holo looked away.
"Y-yes...if I got as far as Nyohhira, I could certainly find my way to Yoitsu."
Holo forced a smile. Lawrence wondered what was wrong, then voiced a sudden "Ah—" as the realization dawned.
In the port town of Pazzio, Holo had said that loneliness was a deathly illness.
Holo feared loneliness above all else. Even if he didn't mean anything by it, she was likely to take his suggestion hard, and she had been drinking.
She probably took his suggestion to mean that he had grown weary of searching for her homeland.
"Hey, now, wait just a minute. Don't take it the wrong way. There's no reason I couldn't wait in Nyohhira while you searched for a couple of days."
"Yes. That would be enough. You'll guide me as far as Nyohhira, won't you? I had hoped to see a few more towns."
The conversation moved so smoothly it was almost a letdown, and Lawrence had to attribute this to Holo's agile mind.
Despite her apparent agreeability, a disconnect lay beneath it.


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

Input:
It was true; Lawrence had been surprised by this the first time he visited the north. He had arrived at a certain town and found that its name was used only by travelers. Neither its residents nor the people living nearby knew or cared about the town's name.
There were elderly people who claimed that naming a town would bring it to the attention of evil spirits.
Undoubtedly what they really meant by "evil spirits" was the Church.
"Well, we'll start at Nyohhira, then. I know where that is."
"That name brings back such memories. Are the hot springs still there?"
"I've heard that nobles and bishops secretly visit the town for its hot springs, despite the fact that it's in pagan lands. According to rumor, it's even exempt from Church attacks because of those same hot springs."
"Those springs don't belong to any one group, after all," said Holo before coughing slightly. "If Nyohhira's our goal, then from Nyohhira it is that way."
Holo pointed southwest—not north to Lawrence's relief.
Any farther north than Nyohhira meant lands where the snow never melted, even in the summer.
Yet even knowing that Yoitsu was southwest of Nyohhira left too wide a region.
"How long did it take to get from Nyohhira to Yoitsu?"
"For me, two days. For a human...I do not know."
Lawrence thought back to the time he had ridden on Holo's back when she was in wolf form, near Ruvinheigen. She would have no trouble traversing unimproved roads.
That left too much area to search, even starting from Nyohhira. Searching for a town that itself might only be a tiny village would be like looking for a needle in a desert. It was precisely because Lawrence himself was a traveling merchant, who was used to walking from town to town, that he understood the difficulty involved.
There was also still the fact that Lawrence had heard Yoitsu had been destroyed by a great bear spirit.
If that was true, finding the remains of a town that had been destroyed centuries earlier would be truly impossible.
Lawrence was not a nobleman with the luxury of passing his days in idleness. He could only stray from his original trade route for six months at the outside. His mistake in Ruvinheigen had set him still further back from his goal of opening a shop, and he did not have anything like a surplus of free time.
He was thinking all this over when something finally occurred to him.
"Could you not find it yourself from Nyohhira? You know the general direction, right?"
If it was just two days from Nyohhira, then just as Holo said, she would most likely be able to remember the details as she got closer.
The words had simply fallen from his mouth without any particular ill intent, but no sooner had Lawrence spoken than he realized his mistake.
Holo looked at him, stunned.
Surprise also registered on Lawrence's face as Holo looked away.
"Y-yes...if I got as far as Nyohhira, I could certainly find my way to Yoitsu."
Holo forced a smile. Lawrence wondered what was wrong, then voiced a sudden "Ah—" as the realization dawned.
In the port town of Pazzio, Holo had said that loneliness was a deathly illness.
Holo feared loneliness above all else. Even if he didn't mean anything by it, she was likely to take his suggestion hard, and she had been drinking.
She probably took his suggestion to mean that he had grown weary of searching for her homeland.
"Hey, now, wait just a minute. Don't take it the wrong way. There's no reason I couldn't wait in Nyohhira while you searched for a couple of days."
"Yes. That would be enough. You'll guide me as far as Nyohhira, won't you? I had hoped to see a few more towns."
The conversation moved so smoothly it was almost a letdown, and Lawrence had to attribute this to Holo's agile mind.
Despite her apparent agreeability, a disconnect lay beneath it.

Output:
No doubt she was afraid of going to her homeland alone.
That uncertainty was disguised by Holo's innocent, happy smile when she claimed the liquor reminded her of Yoitsu.
A few moments' thought made this clear, and Lawrence regretted his rash suggestion.
"Listen, I have every intention of helping you as much as I can. What I said before—"
"Didn't I ask before how precious a male's kindness was? I can't have you being too kind."
Holo's forced smile mixed with her troubled expression as she set her cup down on the bed and continued, "I'm in the wrong. I can't help thinking of things from my own perspective. But you humans, you become old in what seems like the blink of an eye to me. I always forget how precious a single year is for someone with such a brief life span."
The moonlight streamed in through the room's large window, illuminating Holo. She seemed almost unreal to Lawrence in that moment; he hesitated to approach her for fear that she would disappear.
Holo looked up after staring into the contents of her cup, still with that same troubled smile.
"You really are too softhearted. What am I to do with you when you look at me so?"
What was the right thing to say? Lawrence could not find the words he wanted.
A rift had undeniably formed between the two of them.
Yet the words to heal it would not come. A convenient lie would be useless as Holo would see through it instantly.
Holo's words had made it hard for Lawrence to say anything at all. He couldn't very well tell her he would see her through to Yoitsu no matter how many years it took. Merchants were too practical by far for such grandiosity. The many centuries of Holo's life were too distant.
"I am the one who lost sight of the obvious. I have gotten too comfortable by your side. I presumed...too much," said Holo with a self-conscious smile, her ears twitching with her embarrassment. She spoke like a maiden from somewhere near the bottom of her heart.
But such honesty did not bring Lawrence any pleasure.
It was as though Holo was saying good-bye.
"Heh, I seem to be a bit drunk. I'd better sleep, or who knows what I'll wind up saying."
Holo was never reticent at the best of times, but the way she talked made it seem like she was simply putting on a brave face.
In the end, Lawrence was unable to say anything to her.
All he could do was take note of the fact that she had not yet simply packed up and left. It seemed simultaneously unthinkable and entirely likely that she would do such a thing.
Lawrence wanted to scream at himself for being so powerless to help her.
The night silently deepened.
The cries of drunken revelers could be heard from beyond the window.
***
No matter how plagued with worry merchants may be, it is said that they always manage to sleep well.
So it was that despite Lawrence's concern that Holo might depart on her own during the night, Lawrence slept soundly and awoke to birdsong coming in through the window.
He didn't do anything so flagrant as jumping frantically out of bed, but Lawrence did glance at the bed next to his and sighed in relief when he saw that Holo was still there.
He got out of bed to look outside the window. It was quite cold within the room, but the early-morning air outside was still colder; his breath turned smoke white in it.
Yet the cold air was perfectly clear—a morning made of crystal.
There were already people on the street that the inn faced. Looking down at the town merchants, who rose still earlier than the notoriously early-rising traveling merchants, Lawrence arranged the day's plans in his mind, finally saying "all right" to himself when they were in order.
Though it would not exactly compensate for the previous night's blunder, Lawrence wanted to be able to fully enjoy the festival—which started the next day—with Holo, and that meant concluding his business today.


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

Input:
No doubt she was afraid of going to her homeland alone.
That uncertainty was disguised by Holo's innocent, happy smile when she claimed the liquor reminded her of Yoitsu.
A few moments' thought made this clear, and Lawrence regretted his rash suggestion.
"Listen, I have every intention of helping you as much as I can. What I said before—"
"Didn't I ask before how precious a male's kindness was? I can't have you being too kind."
Holo's forced smile mixed with her troubled expression as she set her cup down on the bed and continued, "I'm in the wrong. I can't help thinking of things from my own perspective. But you humans, you become old in what seems like the blink of an eye to me. I always forget how precious a single year is for someone with such a brief life span."
The moonlight streamed in through the room's large window, illuminating Holo. She seemed almost unreal to Lawrence in that moment; he hesitated to approach her for fear that she would disappear.
Holo looked up after staring into the contents of her cup, still with that same troubled smile.
"You really are too softhearted. What am I to do with you when you look at me so?"
What was the right thing to say? Lawrence could not find the words he wanted.
A rift had undeniably formed between the two of them.
Yet the words to heal it would not come. A convenient lie would be useless as Holo would see through it instantly.
Holo's words had made it hard for Lawrence to say anything at all. He couldn't very well tell her he would see her through to Yoitsu no matter how many years it took. Merchants were too practical by far for such grandiosity. The many centuries of Holo's life were too distant.
"I am the one who lost sight of the obvious. I have gotten too comfortable by your side. I presumed...too much," said Holo with a self-conscious smile, her ears twitching with her embarrassment. She spoke like a maiden from somewhere near the bottom of her heart.
But such honesty did not bring Lawrence any pleasure.
It was as though Holo was saying good-bye.
"Heh, I seem to be a bit drunk. I'd better sleep, or who knows what I'll wind up saying."
Holo was never reticent at the best of times, but the way she talked made it seem like she was simply putting on a brave face.
In the end, Lawrence was unable to say anything to her.
All he could do was take note of the fact that she had not yet simply packed up and left. It seemed simultaneously unthinkable and entirely likely that she would do such a thing.
Lawrence wanted to scream at himself for being so powerless to help her.
The night silently deepened.
The cries of drunken revelers could be heard from beyond the window.
***
No matter how plagued with worry merchants may be, it is said that they always manage to sleep well.
So it was that despite Lawrence's concern that Holo might depart on her own during the night, Lawrence slept soundly and awoke to birdsong coming in through the window.
He didn't do anything so flagrant as jumping frantically out of bed, but Lawrence did glance at the bed next to his and sighed in relief when he saw that Holo was still there.
He got out of bed to look outside the window. It was quite cold within the room, but the early-morning air outside was still colder; his breath turned smoke white in it.
Yet the cold air was perfectly clear—a morning made of crystal.
There were already people on the street that the inn faced. Looking down at the town merchants, who rose still earlier than the notoriously early-rising traveling merchants, Lawrence arranged the day's plans in his mind, finally saying "all right" to himself when they were in order.
Though it would not exactly compensate for the previous night's blunder, Lawrence wanted to be able to fully enjoy the festival—which started the next day—with Holo, and that meant concluding his business today.

Output:
Still a bit heavyhearted from the previous evening, Lawrence walked over to his companion, who slumbered away as usual, intending to wake her—when he stopped and furrowed his brows.
It wasn't unusual for Holo to sleep as late as she pleased, but something else was amiss.
Her usual guileless snoring was entirely absent.
Lawrence wondered if the silence was what he thought it was, reaching out to her. She seemed to sense it; the blanket stirred minutely.
He lifted the covers up gently.
What he saw made him sigh.
Holo's face beneath the covers was more pathetic than any abandoned kitten.
"Hungover again, eh?"
Her ears twitched slightly; perhaps it hurt too much to move her head.
He thought about teasing Holo about it but remembered the previous night and thought better of it. And in any case, she would be in no mood to listen.
"I'll bring a cup of water and a bucket just in case. You just be good and rest."
He put extra emphasis on the "be good" part, which her ears twitched at yet again.
Lawrence didn't think she would behave just because he told her to, but she was unlikely to go wandering off in her current state. Given the impossibility of her packing up and striking off on her own, he let himself relax a bit.
He knew Holo was fully capable of faking a hangover, but her face had been so pale he doubted this one was fake.
Turning the thoughts over in his head, he finished his preparations for going out without saying another word and then came back to her bedside—she was evidently incapable of so much as turning herself over.
"The festival doesn't get going until tomorrow, so you needn't rush yourself."
Relief showed instantly on Holo's exhausted, alcohol-ravaged face; Lawrence had to laugh.
It seemed that even suffering a hangover was less important to Holo than attending the festival.
"I'll be back in the afternoon."
Holo's ears were still; this statement did not interest her.
Lawrence gave a strained smile, at which point the corners of Holo's mouth curled ever so slowly into a grin.
She seemed to be doing it on purpose.
Lawrence slumped over and drew the covers back over Holo. She was undoubtedly still grinning away under there.
Still, he was genuinely relieved that she seemed not to hold a grudge from the previous night.
As he left the room, Lawrence took one more look back at Holo. Her tail stuck out from underneath the blanket, and it flicked twice, as if waving good-bye.
Thinking he would buy her something tasty, he closed the door behind him.
Trying to do business before the ring of the bell that opens a market is not generally smiled upon in any town—and this is even truer when one is smack-dab in the middle of the marketplace.
However, depending on the time and circumstances, this rule can be bent.
In Kumersun it was even half-encouraged to mitigate the congestion that came with the opening of the market during the festival.
So despite the early hour, with the sun just beginning to rise above the buildings, the marketplace—which took up half of Kumersun's southern plaza—was already busy with merchants.
Here and there were stacks of crates and piles of burlap sacks, and pigs, chickens, and all manner of livestock stood tied up or caged in the cramped spaces between goods and the stalls. As Kumersun was the largest exporter of fish in the landlocked region, it was easy to spot fish swimming in huge barrels of freshwater, not unlike the ones Amati had been hauling the previous day.
Just as Holo was unable to hide her excitement when faced with a line of eateries, Lawrence's pulse could not help but quicken when he saw the vast array of goods in the marketplace.
How much profit could one make transporting this good to that town? This other commodity was so plentiful that there must be a surplus of it in that location—would the price be lower? Such thoughts chased each other through Lawrence's mind.


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

Input:
Still a bit heavyhearted from the previous evening, Lawrence walked over to his companion, who slumbered away as usual, intending to wake her—when he stopped and furrowed his brows.
It wasn't unusual for Holo to sleep as late as she pleased, but something else was amiss.
Her usual guileless snoring was entirely absent.
Lawrence wondered if the silence was what he thought it was, reaching out to her. She seemed to sense it; the blanket stirred minutely.
He lifted the covers up gently.
What he saw made him sigh.
Holo's face beneath the covers was more pathetic than any abandoned kitten.
"Hungover again, eh?"
Her ears twitched slightly; perhaps it hurt too much to move her head.
He thought about teasing Holo about it but remembered the previous night and thought better of it. And in any case, she would be in no mood to listen.
"I'll bring a cup of water and a bucket just in case. You just be good and rest."
He put extra emphasis on the "be good" part, which her ears twitched at yet again.
Lawrence didn't think she would behave just because he told her to, but she was unlikely to go wandering off in her current state. Given the impossibility of her packing up and striking off on her own, he let himself relax a bit.
He knew Holo was fully capable of faking a hangover, but her face had been so pale he doubted this one was fake.
Turning the thoughts over in his head, he finished his preparations for going out without saying another word and then came back to her bedside—she was evidently incapable of so much as turning herself over.
"The festival doesn't get going until tomorrow, so you needn't rush yourself."
Relief showed instantly on Holo's exhausted, alcohol-ravaged face; Lawrence had to laugh.
It seemed that even suffering a hangover was less important to Holo than attending the festival.
"I'll be back in the afternoon."
Holo's ears were still; this statement did not interest her.
Lawrence gave a strained smile, at which point the corners of Holo's mouth curled ever so slowly into a grin.
She seemed to be doing it on purpose.
Lawrence slumped over and drew the covers back over Holo. She was undoubtedly still grinning away under there.
Still, he was genuinely relieved that she seemed not to hold a grudge from the previous night.
As he left the room, Lawrence took one more look back at Holo. Her tail stuck out from underneath the blanket, and it flicked twice, as if waving good-bye.
Thinking he would buy her something tasty, he closed the door behind him.
Trying to do business before the ring of the bell that opens a market is not generally smiled upon in any town—and this is even truer when one is smack-dab in the middle of the marketplace.
However, depending on the time and circumstances, this rule can be bent.
In Kumersun it was even half-encouraged to mitigate the congestion that came with the opening of the market during the festival.
So despite the early hour, with the sun just beginning to rise above the buildings, the marketplace—which took up half of Kumersun's southern plaza—was already busy with merchants.
Here and there were stacks of crates and piles of burlap sacks, and pigs, chickens, and all manner of livestock stood tied up or caged in the cramped spaces between goods and the stalls. As Kumersun was the largest exporter of fish in the landlocked region, it was easy to spot fish swimming in huge barrels of freshwater, not unlike the ones Amati had been hauling the previous day.
Just as Holo was unable to hide her excitement when faced with a line of eateries, Lawrence's pulse could not help but quicken when he saw the vast array of goods in the marketplace.
How much profit could one make transporting this good to that town? This other commodity was so plentiful that there must be a surplus of it in that location—would the price be lower? Such thoughts chased each other through Lawrence's mind.

Output:
Once a merchant fully grasped this intricate web of commodities, he became like an alchemist, transmuting lead into gold.
Lawrence felt giddy at the power this notion afforded him until he remembered his failure in Ruvinheigen, which he chuckled at, chagrined.
Turning one's eyes to avarice made it all the more easy to stumble, after all.
He took a breath to calm himself, grasping the reins and heading into the center of the marketplace. The stall he finally arrived at was already well into its business day, like all the others. The shop's owner was just a year removed from Lawrence and had also started out as a traveling merchant. The fact that he had become a proper wheat merchant—complete with stall, which despite its small size even had a proper roof—was generally attributed to the man's good fortune. He had even adopted the squarish facial hair style that was common in the region.
Said wheat merchant—Mark Cole—was momentarily surprised upon seeing Lawrence, but he immediately composed himself and raised a hand in greeting, smiling.
The other merchant that Mark dealt with turned to regard Lawrence as well, nodding in greeting. One never knew when he might encounter someone who could become a business partner, so Lawrence flashed his best merchant's smile and gestured at them to by all means please continue their conversation.
"Le, spandi amirto. Vanderji."
"Ha-ha. Pireji. Bao!"
Evidently their exchange was just ending; the man spoke to Mark in a language Lawrence didn't understand and then took his leave. Naturally, Lawrence did not forget to give the man another professional smile as he left.
He committed the man's face to memory in case they were to meet again in some other town.
These were the tiny interactions that accumulated over time, eventually turning into profit.
The merchant—who was probably from somewhere in the northlands—disappeared into the crowds, and Lawrence finally descended from his wagon.
"I guess I interrupted your business."
"Hardly! He was just talking my ear off about how grateful he was to the god of Pitra Mountain. You saved me," said Mark, rolling up a sheet of parchment as he sat atop a wooden chest. He smiled at the tedium of the man's conversation.
Mark, like Lawrence, was a member of the Rowen Trade Guild. Their acquaintance was the result of showing up every year in the same marketplace to trade, and the two had known each other since the very beginning of their respective careers. They could easily skip the usual formalities.
"If I'd known better, I wouldn't have bothered learning their language. They're not bad men, but once they figure out you can understand them, you'll never hear the end of how great their god is."
"Might be that a local deity's still better than a god who never leaves the shrine except when they spy a flash of gold, eh?" Lawrence said.
Mark laughed, tapping his own head with the now rolled-up parchment. "You're not lying! And they say harvest gods are all beautiful women."
Holo's face appeared in Lawrence's mind. He nodded and grinned but of course did not say what sprang to mind: But they have terrible personalities.
"Anyway, enough of such talk. I'll be scolded by the missus for sure. Shall we talk of trade? I presume that's why you're here."
Mark's expression shifted from friendly banter to business. Though there was no need for formalities between the two, their relationship was a calculated one. Lawrence readied himself for the exchange and spoke.
"I've brought nails from Ruvinheigen. Thought you might want to buy them up."
"Nails, eh? I'm a wheat seller. Did you hear somewhere that we now nail our sacks of wheat closed? I think not."
"Ah, but you'll soon have many customers laying in supplies for the long winter. You could sell those nails just as you sell the wheat. People need them to brace up their homes against the snow."
Mark looked skyward for a moment before rolling his gaze back to Lawrence.
"I suppose that is true...Nails, you say. How many?"


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

Input:
Once a merchant fully grasped this intricate web of commodities, he became like an alchemist, transmuting lead into gold.
Lawrence felt giddy at the power this notion afforded him until he remembered his failure in Ruvinheigen, which he chuckled at, chagrined.
Turning one's eyes to avarice made it all the more easy to stumble, after all.
He took a breath to calm himself, grasping the reins and heading into the center of the marketplace. The stall he finally arrived at was already well into its business day, like all the others. The shop's owner was just a year removed from Lawrence and had also started out as a traveling merchant. The fact that he had become a proper wheat merchant—complete with stall, which despite its small size even had a proper roof—was generally attributed to the man's good fortune. He had even adopted the squarish facial hair style that was common in the region.
Said wheat merchant—Mark Cole—was momentarily surprised upon seeing Lawrence, but he immediately composed himself and raised a hand in greeting, smiling.
The other merchant that Mark dealt with turned to regard Lawrence as well, nodding in greeting. One never knew when he might encounter someone who could become a business partner, so Lawrence flashed his best merchant's smile and gestured at them to by all means please continue their conversation.
"Le, spandi amirto. Vanderji."
"Ha-ha. Pireji. Bao!"
Evidently their exchange was just ending; the man spoke to Mark in a language Lawrence didn't understand and then took his leave. Naturally, Lawrence did not forget to give the man another professional smile as he left.
He committed the man's face to memory in case they were to meet again in some other town.
These were the tiny interactions that accumulated over time, eventually turning into profit.
The merchant—who was probably from somewhere in the northlands—disappeared into the crowds, and Lawrence finally descended from his wagon.
"I guess I interrupted your business."
"Hardly! He was just talking my ear off about how grateful he was to the god of Pitra Mountain. You saved me," said Mark, rolling up a sheet of parchment as he sat atop a wooden chest. He smiled at the tedium of the man's conversation.
Mark, like Lawrence, was a member of the Rowen Trade Guild. Their acquaintance was the result of showing up every year in the same marketplace to trade, and the two had known each other since the very beginning of their respective careers. They could easily skip the usual formalities.
"If I'd known better, I wouldn't have bothered learning their language. They're not bad men, but once they figure out you can understand them, you'll never hear the end of how great their god is."
"Might be that a local deity's still better than a god who never leaves the shrine except when they spy a flash of gold, eh?" Lawrence said.
Mark laughed, tapping his own head with the now rolled-up parchment. "You're not lying! And they say harvest gods are all beautiful women."
Holo's face appeared in Lawrence's mind. He nodded and grinned but of course did not say what sprang to mind: But they have terrible personalities.
"Anyway, enough of such talk. I'll be scolded by the missus for sure. Shall we talk of trade? I presume that's why you're here."
Mark's expression shifted from friendly banter to business. Though there was no need for formalities between the two, their relationship was a calculated one. Lawrence readied himself for the exchange and spoke.
"I've brought nails from Ruvinheigen. Thought you might want to buy them up."
"Nails, eh? I'm a wheat seller. Did you hear somewhere that we now nail our sacks of wheat closed? I think not."
"Ah, but you'll soon have many customers laying in supplies for the long winter. You could sell those nails just as you sell the wheat. People need them to brace up their homes against the snow."
Mark looked skyward for a moment before rolling his gaze back to Lawrence.
"I suppose that is true...Nails, you say. How many?"

Output:
Mark scratched his cheek with one end of the rolled-up parchment and sighed. This feigned reluctance was a common merchant trait.
"I'll take the lot for ten and a half lumione."
"What's the lumione trading at now? Against trenni silver."
"Thirty-four even when yesterday's market closed. So that'd be...three hundred fifty-seven trenni."
"Too low by far, sir," said Lawrence.
The amount wasn't even as much as Lawrence had spent to buy the nails. Mark's brow furrowed at Lawrence's quick answer.
"Have you heard about the crash in armor prices?" Mark asked. "With no military expeditions into the north this year, people are unloading armor and swords left and right, which means there's a glut of raw iron. Even nails are cheaper now—even ten lumione is a generous price."
It was the response he had expected, so Lawrence calmed himself and replied.
"Aye, but that's in the south. When there's so much iron to be melted down, the price of fuel will rise enough to make it impractical. If you can buy enough firewood to melt iron this time of the year in Ploania, I'd sure like to see it. Anybody that tries it is likely to have their head split with a kindling ax."
Once winter came to regions with a lot of snow, the supply of firewood stagnated. The iron forges, with their bottomless appetite for fuel, were abandoned during the winter. If some blacksmith did decide to forge in the winter, the price of firewood would immediately skyrocket, and he would soon find himself showered in the curses of the shivering townspeople. Thus, even if the raw material for nails was suddenly abundant in the region, the original price of those nails should hold steady.
Any merchant with a bit of experience would be able to put this much together.
Unsurprisingly, Mark grinned. "Come now, must you be selling nails to a poor wheat merchant? If it's grain, then sure, I know how to buy it cheap, but nails are far from my specialty."
"Sixteen lumione, then."
"Too dear. Thirteen."
"Fifteen."
"Fourteen and two-thirds." Mark's medium frame stiffened, leaving him loglike.
Lawrence could tell he would get no further in his negotiations.
Pushing it would only damage the business relationship. Lawrence nodded and extended his right hand. "It's done, then."
"Well met, guild brother!" said Mark with a smile, shaking Lawrence's hand.
The price was undoubtedly quite a compromise on Mark's end, as well.
As a wheat merchant, Mark was not, strictly speaking, even allowed to buy or sell nails. Which merchant could sell what good was decided by the respective guilds, so to stock a new item, a merchant had to either obtain the permission of the other merchants already selling that item or cut them in on the profits.
At a glance, this rule would seem to obstruct free trade, but if it was absent, giant companies with huge amounts of capital would soon swallow the entire marketplace. The rule was designed to prevent that from happening.
"Would you prefer to settle up in coin or credit?" asked Mark.
"Credit, if you please."
"Thank goodness. There are so many cash deals this time of year it's hard to keep up."
While traders had no trouble keeping track of their deals in their ledger books, plenty of people bringing goods into the villages and towns would want coin and only coin.
But currency shortages were serious problems in any town. Even if a merchant had assets to buy a particular good, without the currency to make the payment, there could be no commerce at all. And an illiterate farmer wouldn't even blow his nose on a promissory note.
In the wilderness, it was the knight with his sword who was strongest, but in the cities, coin equaled power. This was why the Church had grown so wealthy. Collecting tithes week after week, it could not help but become powerful.
"So since I'm taking credit, I've got a favor to ask of you," said Lawrence as Mark approached to unload the sack of nails from the wagon bed. The wheat merchant's face grew instantly wary.


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

Input:
Mark scratched his cheek with one end of the rolled-up parchment and sighed. This feigned reluctance was a common merchant trait.
"I'll take the lot for ten and a half lumione."
"What's the lumione trading at now? Against trenni silver."
"Thirty-four even when yesterday's market closed. So that'd be...three hundred fifty-seven trenni."
"Too low by far, sir," said Lawrence.
The amount wasn't even as much as Lawrence had spent to buy the nails. Mark's brow furrowed at Lawrence's quick answer.
"Have you heard about the crash in armor prices?" Mark asked. "With no military expeditions into the north this year, people are unloading armor and swords left and right, which means there's a glut of raw iron. Even nails are cheaper now—even ten lumione is a generous price."
It was the response he had expected, so Lawrence calmed himself and replied.
"Aye, but that's in the south. When there's so much iron to be melted down, the price of fuel will rise enough to make it impractical. If you can buy enough firewood to melt iron this time of the year in Ploania, I'd sure like to see it. Anybody that tries it is likely to have their head split with a kindling ax."
Once winter came to regions with a lot of snow, the supply of firewood stagnated. The iron forges, with their bottomless appetite for fuel, were abandoned during the winter. If some blacksmith did decide to forge in the winter, the price of firewood would immediately skyrocket, and he would soon find himself showered in the curses of the shivering townspeople. Thus, even if the raw material for nails was suddenly abundant in the region, the original price of those nails should hold steady.
Any merchant with a bit of experience would be able to put this much together.
Unsurprisingly, Mark grinned. "Come now, must you be selling nails to a poor wheat merchant? If it's grain, then sure, I know how to buy it cheap, but nails are far from my specialty."
"Sixteen lumione, then."
"Too dear. Thirteen."
"Fifteen."
"Fourteen and two-thirds." Mark's medium frame stiffened, leaving him loglike.
Lawrence could tell he would get no further in his negotiations.
Pushing it would only damage the business relationship. Lawrence nodded and extended his right hand. "It's done, then."
"Well met, guild brother!" said Mark with a smile, shaking Lawrence's hand.
The price was undoubtedly quite a compromise on Mark's end, as well.
As a wheat merchant, Mark was not, strictly speaking, even allowed to buy or sell nails. Which merchant could sell what good was decided by the respective guilds, so to stock a new item, a merchant had to either obtain the permission of the other merchants already selling that item or cut them in on the profits.
At a glance, this rule would seem to obstruct free trade, but if it was absent, giant companies with huge amounts of capital would soon swallow the entire marketplace. The rule was designed to prevent that from happening.
"Would you prefer to settle up in coin or credit?" asked Mark.
"Credit, if you please."
"Thank goodness. There are so many cash deals this time of year it's hard to keep up."
While traders had no trouble keeping track of their deals in their ledger books, plenty of people bringing goods into the villages and towns would want coin and only coin.
But currency shortages were serious problems in any town. Even if a merchant had assets to buy a particular good, without the currency to make the payment, there could be no commerce at all. And an illiterate farmer wouldn't even blow his nose on a promissory note.
In the wilderness, it was the knight with his sword who was strongest, but in the cities, coin equaled power. This was why the Church had grown so wealthy. Collecting tithes week after week, it could not help but become powerful.
"So since I'm taking credit, I've got a favor to ask of you," said Lawrence as Mark approached to unload the sack of nails from the wagon bed. The wheat merchant's face grew instantly wary.

Output:
Seeing that Lawrence's question had nothing to do with business, Mark visibly relaxed.
His shift in expression was obviously intentional, Lawrence noted with chagrin. It was probably Mark's way of getting back at Lawrence a bit for selling the nails so dear.
"Aye, that's easy enough," said Mark. "Though it would've been easier for you to come in the summertime as you normally do. Must be something pretty big to get you heading up north in midwinter."
"Well, you know, this and that. I will say it's nothing to do with business, though."
"Ha-ha-ha. Even the ever-traveling merchant can't free himself from life's little obligations, eh? So where are you headed?"
"A place called Yoitsu. Heard of it?"
Mark leaned on the cart as he raised a single eyebrow. "Can't say I have. But who knows how many little towns and villages I've never heard of. You want me to find someone who knows it, then?"
"Well, in any case, we're heading for Nyohhira, so you can ask about Yoitsu sort of 'by the way'; that'll be fine."
"Right, then. So if you're bound for Nyohhira you'll be crossing the Dolan Plains."
"You know the way, then? That makes it easier for me."
The wheat merchant nodded and thumped his chest, as if to say "leave it to me." Mark would surely be able to collect the information Lawrence needed.
This was exactly why Lawrence had come to Mark in the first place, but if he had interrupted the wheat merchant during this most busy of seasons simply to gather information without bringing some business along as well, it would have weighed on his conscience—and Mark would've been none too pleased.
That is why he brought the nails to sell. Lawrence was well aware that Mark knew many of the area blacksmiths. It would be easy for Mark to sell off the nails to any of them for a tidy profit.
Mark would even be able to ask for a portion of the payment for those nails in cash. As a wheat merchant—for whom the last chance to save up money was rapidly approaching—the chance to get a bit of hard coin into his hands would probably make him happier than any meager profit.
And as Lawrence had expected, Mark readily agreed. That took care of the need to gather information on the upcoming travel.
"Oh, yes. There was another thing I wanted to ask you about. Don't worry, this will be quick," said Lawrence.
"Do I look that stingy?"
Lawrence met Mark's chagrined smile. "Does this town have any chroniclers?"
"Chroniclers...? Oh, you mean the people who write those endless diaries of town events?"
Chroniclers were paid a retainer by nobles or Church officials and kept histories of a given area or town.
Lawrence couldn't help but laugh at hearing Mark dismiss their work as "endless diaries."
It wasn't entirely accurate, but nor was it far from the truth, which made it all the funnier.
"I don't think they'd like you putting it that way, but yes," Lawrence said.
"Bah, it just bothers me that all they need do to earn coin is sit in a chair all day and write."
"That's a little hard to take from someone who got so lucky in a deal he was able to open a shop in a town."
The story of Mark's good fortune was a famous one.
Lawrence laughed again, this time at Mark's momentarily stunned expression.
"So, are there any chroniclers or nay?"
"Ah...yes, I think there are. But I wouldn't get mixed up with them were I you," said Mark, taking hold of the bag of nails in Lawrence's wagon. "Rumor has it one was accused of heresy by a monastery somewhere and had to flee. The town's filled with people like that who had to run."
The townspeople of Kumersun were less concerned with the animosity between pagans and the Church than they were with economic prosperity, so the town had naturally become a refuge for a variety of naturalists, philosophers, and other such heretics.
"I just have some things I want to ask after," said Lawrence. "Chroniclers collect local legends and such, yes? I've an interest in such matters."


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

Input:
Seeing that Lawrence's question had nothing to do with business, Mark visibly relaxed.
His shift in expression was obviously intentional, Lawrence noted with chagrin. It was probably Mark's way of getting back at Lawrence a bit for selling the nails so dear.
"Aye, that's easy enough," said Mark. "Though it would've been easier for you to come in the summertime as you normally do. Must be something pretty big to get you heading up north in midwinter."
"Well, you know, this and that. I will say it's nothing to do with business, though."
"Ha-ha-ha. Even the ever-traveling merchant can't free himself from life's little obligations, eh? So where are you headed?"
"A place called Yoitsu. Heard of it?"
Mark leaned on the cart as he raised a single eyebrow. "Can't say I have. But who knows how many little towns and villages I've never heard of. You want me to find someone who knows it, then?"
"Well, in any case, we're heading for Nyohhira, so you can ask about Yoitsu sort of 'by the way'; that'll be fine."
"Right, then. So if you're bound for Nyohhira you'll be crossing the Dolan Plains."
"You know the way, then? That makes it easier for me."
The wheat merchant nodded and thumped his chest, as if to say "leave it to me." Mark would surely be able to collect the information Lawrence needed.
This was exactly why Lawrence had come to Mark in the first place, but if he had interrupted the wheat merchant during this most busy of seasons simply to gather information without bringing some business along as well, it would have weighed on his conscience—and Mark would've been none too pleased.
That is why he brought the nails to sell. Lawrence was well aware that Mark knew many of the area blacksmiths. It would be easy for Mark to sell off the nails to any of them for a tidy profit.
Mark would even be able to ask for a portion of the payment for those nails in cash. As a wheat merchant—for whom the last chance to save up money was rapidly approaching—the chance to get a bit of hard coin into his hands would probably make him happier than any meager profit.
And as Lawrence had expected, Mark readily agreed. That took care of the need to gather information on the upcoming travel.
"Oh, yes. There was another thing I wanted to ask you about. Don't worry, this will be quick," said Lawrence.
"Do I look that stingy?"
Lawrence met Mark's chagrined smile. "Does this town have any chroniclers?"
"Chroniclers...? Oh, you mean the people who write those endless diaries of town events?"
Chroniclers were paid a retainer by nobles or Church officials and kept histories of a given area or town.
Lawrence couldn't help but laugh at hearing Mark dismiss their work as "endless diaries."
It wasn't entirely accurate, but nor was it far from the truth, which made it all the funnier.
"I don't think they'd like you putting it that way, but yes," Lawrence said.
"Bah, it just bothers me that all they need do to earn coin is sit in a chair all day and write."
"That's a little hard to take from someone who got so lucky in a deal he was able to open a shop in a town."
The story of Mark's good fortune was a famous one.
Lawrence laughed again, this time at Mark's momentarily stunned expression.
"So, are there any chroniclers or nay?"
"Ah...yes, I think there are. But I wouldn't get mixed up with them were I you," said Mark, taking hold of the bag of nails in Lawrence's wagon. "Rumor has it one was accused of heresy by a monastery somewhere and had to flee. The town's filled with people like that who had to run."
The townspeople of Kumersun were less concerned with the animosity between pagans and the Church than they were with economic prosperity, so the town had naturally become a refuge for a variety of naturalists, philosophers, and other such heretics.
"I just have some things I want to ask after," said Lawrence. "Chroniclers collect local legends and such, yes? I've an interest in such matters."

Output:
"Something like that. I know it's sudden, but do you think you might introduce me to one?"
Mark turned his head slightly and called out toward his stand, with the bag of nails still in one hand.
A boy emerged from behind a mountain of wheat sacks. Evidently Mark had reached a point where he could have an apprentice.
"I do know one. Better if it's someone from Rowen, right?" said Mark, handing bag after bag of nails to his young apprentice.
Seeing this, Lawrence was filled with a renewed sense of urgency to get to Yoitsu and return to his normal business routine as quickly as he could.
Yet it would be trouble if Holo discerned that fact—and for his part, it was not as though Lawrence wished to be rid of her.
He found it impossible to reconcile his two feelings on the issue.
If he lived as long as Holo did, taking a year or two off from business would hardly be an issue.
But Lawrence's life was too short for that.
"What's the matter?"
"Hm? Oh...nothing. Yes, if there's a chronicler in the trade guild, that would be convenient. Can I ask you to introduce me?"
"I can certainly do that much, yes. I'll even do it for free."
Lawrence couldn't help but smile at the effort Mark put into saying "free."
"Is sooner better?" asked Mark.
"If possible, yes."
"I'll send the boy out, then. There's a fearless old peddler named Gi Batos there, and if I'm remembering right, he's close with a pagan hermit who's done chronicle work. Old Batos takes the week before and after the festival off, so if you go by the guild house around midday, you should find him drinking the day away."
Even within a single guild, such as Rowen Trade Guild, traveling merchants like Lawrence might not know many others within it—like Amati whose business was unrelated to Lawrence's own.
Lawrence repeated Gi Batos's name to himself, carving it into his memory.
"Understood. I'm in your debt."
"Ha-ha. If that's all it takes to be in my debt, I'd hate to think what comes next. Enough of that talk—you'll be in town until the festival ends, yes? Stop by for a drink, won't you?"
"I suppose I should let you brag of your success at least once. I'll be by."
Mark raised his voice in a laugh and then sighed as he handed the last bag of nails to his apprentice. "Even a town merchant endures endless troubles and worries, though. Sometimes I wish I could go back to traveling."
Lawrence could only smile in vague agreement as he was still toiling day in and day out to achieve what Mark already had. Mark seemed to realize this. "Uh, forget I said that," he said, smiling apologetically.
"All we can do is keep our noses to the grindstone. It's the same for all merchants."
"True enough. Good fortune to the both of us, then!"
Lawrence shook hands with Mark, and after seeing another customer come to call on the wheat merchant, he put the stall behind him.
He slowly maneuvered his wagon into the crowd and then looked back at Mark's stand.
There stood Mark, who seemed to have forgotten about Lawrence entirely and was now embroiled in negotiations with his next customer. Lawrence was frankly envious.
But even Mark the successful town merchant said he sometimes wished to return to traveling.
Lawrence remembered a story. Long ago, there was a king who planned to alleviate the poverty in his own kingdom by invading the prosperous nation next to his own, but a court poet had said this: "One always sees the wretched parts of one's own land and the best parts of one's neighbor's."
Lawrence thought on the story.
He had been focusing on the troubles involved in finding Holo's homeland or the setbacks he'd suffered in Ruvinheigen, but the fact was he had been able to travel with a companion of rare quality.
If Lawrence had never encountered Holo, he would have continued along his usual trade route, enduring the endless loneliness that came with it.