Along her brief travels, Elsa must have tasted that particular flavor of loneliness.
Despite how tightly tied back her hair was, and how it seemed her astute, honey-tinted eyes saw nothing but logic and reason, Lawrence knew that she was much warmer and kinder than the average person.
The reason she found it difficult to bring up leaving was because she did not want to hurt the lone wolf.
“Should I tell her, then? I was just thinking that it was time for us to move on to the next town.”
Elsa felt bad, almost as though she was making a secret deal with Lawrence while Holo was not around, so she did not reply right away. Ultimately, though, she nodded.
The smile she offered him after that was tinged by self-reproach.
“I feel like a child asking for help broaching a difficult topic.”
When she had first met Lawrence, she might have brought up her leaving without much thought or warning, simply because it was the truth.
But Lawrence saw it differently.
“Learning when and how to rely on others is a part of becoming an adult, I think.”
Back when he was hoping to become an independent merchant, he thought becoming an adult meant being able to solve every problem on his own.
It was not long before he learned that was, of course, an ignorant young man’s hubris.
“…You act an upstanding man in your own right, so long as you’re away from Miss Holo.”
Elsa’s exasperated yet spiteful remark earned her an honest smile from Lawrence.
“I rarely have a leg to stand on with her.”
Elsa gave an exaggerated shrug, like a city girl, before ultimately smiling.
“I had not expected much when I sent you the letter. But if our unexpected reunion is anything to go by, I believe we will cross paths again,” she said, not looking in Lawrence’s direction. Nyohhira and Tereo were distant, and neither of them were young anymore, so logical thinking dictated they would never see each other again.
Lawrence glanced at her profile before turning to face forward himself. “If anything, you should say that to Holo,” he said.
He did not know if she looked at him.
As the plaza came into view, they saw that the outside of the liveliest tavern was the site for yet another contest to see who could drink the most.
The silhouette right in the middle of all the commotion, Lawrence knew without a doubt, belonged to his beloved wolf.
“I’m not sure I can find the right words,” Elsa said. Despite that, once they met up with Holo and Tanya, Lawrence asked her what she planned on doing after this, just as they agreed, to which she flawlessly replied that she would be returning to Tereo, and that she had been happy to see Holo again.
Holo did not seem particularly upset about having to part ways with Elsa; she was considerably drunk, after all, and she had to keep up appearances with her pseudo-protégée, Tanya, sitting beside her.
She even promised to meet again in her premature words of parting; she was optimistic, already looking forward to their next reunion.
Tanya and Elsa returned to the church together that night, and Lawrence dragged wobbly Holo back to the inn. It seemed as though Holo was taking the sadness that came with a journey’s unavoidable partings well, only with the help of alcohol, and placing it neatly at her feet.
Once the new day dawned, Holo eagerly went to join the drinking competitions early in the morning, leaving Lawrence to watch her gallant profile from the inn window as he thought about their imminent departure.
Preparing for a departure always started slow, but Lawrence’s primary objective in their journey was to check up on their only daughter, Myuri. He was eager to get moving, and he knew he could not drag his feet.
Yet the reason he found himself thinking of his old mentor was likely because he was a bit apprehensive of what was to come.
It was not because they were yet to determine Myuri and Col’s precise location, nor because a trying winter journey was ahead of them. It was a problem that was more down-to-earth, easier to understand, and perhaps even vexing to some.
What Lawrence was worried about was what would come after the unexpectedly brilliant and lively time they spent with Elsa and Tanya—the heavy, lingering quiet.
The reason his stray cat of a mentor rarely ever interacted with others was less because of the trade advantages it afforded him with the kinds of people he met along his travels, and more out of a more cowardly cautiousness—so that he would not be swallowed by the ebbing tide of loneliness.
His own parting with Lawrence had been sudden. When Lawrence awoke one morning, the man was gone.
The reason he had not dwelled on his unfulfilled desire to travel more with his mentor, despite being abandoned, was because he had been so desperate to survive.
When he first thought back on his mentor after he finally found his rhythm as a traveling merchant, he found that the memories had smoothed over with time, and they had settled into the recesses of his heart without any lingering pain.
Now, he understood that that was his mentor’s unique way of looking out for him.
It had been so casual, but he only understood the weight of that choice after the fact. Though there was room for debate as to whether or not his crotchety old mentor’s way of doing things was correct, he had indeed learned something about decisiveness in that moment. When he looked back on his life, he realized that rather than the basics of trade, this experience was the greatest lesson he had received.
So he, too, knew that he had to pay careful consideration to his traveling companion in much the same way in times like these.
Your student’s still doing well for himself, Lawrence told the memory of his mentor, then downed the rest of his ale.
Outside his window, Holo—who was quite the celebrity in Salonia by now—had her arm linked through that of a sturdy-looking dock loader, and they were drinking their cups dry.
“She’ll be hungover tomorrow, so I guess we’ll leave the day after, or the day after that,” Lawrence murmured and stood, grabbing his coat as he left the room.
Beyond the open window, Holo lifted up her empty cup and basked in the cheers and applause.