“Farewell,” Elsa said briefly, and began walking down the road, headed south. It had been two days since the festival in Salonia had ended, and as the morning came once again, a reluctant air filled the town, a hint that the townsfolk would begrudgingly return to their daily lives in preparation for winter.
She had sensed that if she stayed in town one day longer, the bishop, reputed for being glib, would yet again push some troublesome affair onto her plate, so she had quite bluntly said no to any more requests for work.
Standing next to her was Tanya, who was going to be accompanying her to Tereo. Tanya kept turning around to look at Holo and wave.
At first, Holo had waved back every time, but she soon grew tired of the act and no longer raised her hand.
Yet Lawrence and Holo stood there watching until Tanya and Elsa vanished completely; Holo stared out down the path, a whirl of emotion hidden behind her faint smile.
“What excitement that was, no?”
When they were finally gone, Holo planted her hands on her hips and spoke.
“We were surprisingly busy.”
They had originally left the hot spring village of Nyohhira in order to check on their only daughter, Myuri, who had also left on a journey. But as they followed her trail, they reunited with Elsa, met Tanya, a squirrel spirit who lived on a mountain rumored to be cursed, helped merchants who had been suffocated by a tangled web of debt, and even helped a man from the distant desert—whose true nature was that of a bishop—connect with his own villagers.
All of that had made them quite well-known in Salonia, which led to him selling quite a big load of the sulfur powder, a key element in the hot springs, which Lawrence brought all the way from Nyohhira. They had also managed to replenish some of the smaller value coins that they had been lacking in as of late.
And most importantly, he had managed to spread word of their bathhouse in Nyohhira, Spice and Wolf, to the people of influence in town.
If he could tangibly harvest the fruits of a journey, then this would have been an amazing crop, but the fields after a particularly lush season often seemed starkly barren in comparison.
Even Lawrence, who was no match for Holo even in daily life, could stand toe to toe with the centuries-old wolf in terms of travel experience.
Lawrence had come up with a thorough plan so that the lonely wolf would not get swallowed by the sudden wash of negative emotions that so often caught travelers off guard.
“I suppose…’tis time for us to depart, too.”
Holo raised her arms above her and stretched. She had spent the entirety of the previous day hungover, but woke up rather early this morning, looked out at the morning sun, and ate so much food, it was almost as though she was making up for the day before.
They then went to see Elsa and Tanya off, which brought them to the present moment.
Lawrence knew that the melancholy often struck out of the blue during moments like this.
“But first, there’s a place we need to visit.”
“Oh? Are we drinking more?”
There was a genuine glint in her eye, which brought an unwitting smile to Lawrence’s face.
“No… Well, maybe.”
Holo looked dubiously at Lawrence in response to his ambiguous answer, but her tail began to swish back and forth in delight at the prospect of drinking.
“Remember how the church promised they’d send a bit of wheat from their fields as thanks for mediating on the tariffs?”
“Ah, yes, I remember.”
Holo sounded rather indifferent, but when she had learned that he was having wheat sent to the bathhouse every year as a reminder of their journey to that place, she was overjoyed.
She was never honest with her feelings, but that was what made her so adorable. Lawrence said to her, “We still need to decide which zone will be sending us the wheat.”
“Hmm?”
“It really isn’t enough for us to just ask for the best wheat every year. It might not only be an armful, but we could probably get the wheat that grows from our territory.”
This was more of a formal exchange, not so one about actually getting the best wheat possible, so it was possible to call him an upstanding noble since he was the one receiving the tribute.
Lawrence looked proud, but Holo only reacted with a cold demeanor.
“It matters not where it comes from. You may pick anywhere from this land, and it will not change.”
Perhaps she could not be bothered to go out into the fields, or perhaps she was not fond of the idea to cross the bridge made of boats to get there.
But Lawrence grabbed Holo’s shoulders and began to guide her as he walked.
“Oh, no, we can’t have that. Come on, let’s go.”
“Mm? Dear, what are you—goodness.”
Lawrence urged an annoyed Holo on, and once they returned to the inn, they started getting ready for their departure.
✦ ✦ ✦
They packed the cart full of things so that they would be ready to leave right after selecting their wheat field, bid good-bye to all those they had gotten to know well, then left town before noon.
Though Lawrence thought Salonia might quiet down after the festival, the town had taken on life in a different sense; all those who had spent their time idling around for the festival were now working diligently to get everything put away before winter.
That meant there were many people crossing the pontoon bridge, causing quite the sway. Holo ultimately found herself hunched over on the cart bed, holding her head in her hands.
On the opposite bank, Lawrence bought a few thinly-sliced pieces of beef shoulder from one of the food stalls, placed it on the driver’s perch, and Holo at last grumpily crawled her way to the front.
“I want wine,” she said as she tore into the beef, still a bit pink in the middle, but Lawrence ignored her as he gazed up at the sky, urging the cart forward.
People shouldering farming tools and carts filled with stacks of straw rushed by them in either direction, but what stood out the most were the girls walking boldly, carrying massive scythes that were bigger than them.
Once the fortress tower came into view, they saw that patches were starting to be harvested from what was a perfect, unbroken blanket of crop just a few days earlier.
“Mm! The delicious aroma of wheat.”
There was a hint of dust, but accompanied by the rich scent of wheat on the calm breeze.
Holo, licking her fingers clean after devouring the meat, allowed the wind to brush gently past her cheek—she seemed perfectly happy again.
“Pick out a spot that looks like it’s producing good wheat. You can choose wherever you want.”
“’Twill only be from an arm’s width, though, no?”
“Pick wherever you want from an arm’s width.”
Holo turned a cold gaze toward Lawrence, but her wolf ears were twitching happily beneath her hood.
As they conversed and made their way toward the fortress, once home to a hero who was said to have defeated a great serpent that lived on this plain, they found the gates were wide open, and crowds of people were streaming in and out.
“This reminds me of the past.”
Holo once ruled over the wheat harvest in a village called Pasloe. It was a village Lawrence had frequented for his trade; it had been a lively little place, since a festival was always held around harvest time.
Though there was no proper festival held here, it being a fortress meant that the location came equipped with a storehouse and a central square, and so at this time of year, when all the farmers were hard at work, Lawrence had heard that it took on the spirit of a festival in its own right.
Some time later, Salonia saw the harvest begin in the area around the fortress. At the same time, wheat that had been harvested a bit earlier was brought in to be husked. Lawrence guessed that it was going to be even livelier than he imagined.
That was because song and drink were easily passed around in places of monotonous labor.
“Oh ho! Now this is a good festival!”
Lawrence smiled as Holo, sitting atop the driver’s perch, began to delight in the sounds of singing and the smell of smoke from cookfires.
Farmers and children hopped onto the cart bed without warning along the way, likely thinking he was one of the passing merchants. Once they entered the fort and the familiar assistant priest, who was overseeing the harvesting and the husking, saw Lawrence and Holo, his eyes went wide with surprise.
“I’m sorry to intrude while you’re so busy. We came to choose the land for our wheat.”
The assistant priest gave them an exasperated look, but he had no time to be angry with them.
“Pick whichever land you like. And feel free to watch the husking.”
The offer to watch was a roundabout way for him to ask them to help with the task, and Holo was surprisingly keen.
“You may use my horse to help, too.”
The assistant priest drew up his shoulders and immediately called out to the villagers.
Lawrence pretended not to notice the little glare he thought the horse gave him now that it had been saddled with the role of pack animal.