“You brought me all the way to those fields when you could have simply selected whatever you liked. We took part in the lively harvesting activities, then took a boat down the river toward the sea. And now look at you; how stingy you were about traveling by land when we left Nyohhira. Hmm… But perhaps you’ve simply injured your back, which would explain the stiffness.”
Holo smiled, genuinely delighted, before letting out a sigh.
When she turned to look back at the sky, the final vestiges of the setting sun threatening to be swallowed by night, her face was no longer expressionless.
“I know you are doting on me because you are worried, giving me constant joy in our travels so that I do not succumb to despair.”
Her eyelids lowered, then shut as she tilted her head, fondly reliving her memories, before opening her eyes again.
“And what joy does it bring me. Even the ones that do not quite hit their mark and make me irritated.”
Lawrence raised his hands in an admission of defeat, and Holo nodded to him like a benevolent queen.
“Every day I travel with you is a joy, thanks to that. But ’tis strange, because I find the dull moments just as delightful.”
“Uh…hmm?”
Lawrence murmured in response, and Holo asked a passing tavern girl for more meat.
“I never noticed it when we were in the bathhouse, much less when I first met you.”
Holo placed the skewer in her mouth and began nibbling on it.
“Even the sadness, the loneliness, the overwhelming pain I feel in the quiet moments between journeys brings me joy.”
“That’s, um…huh?”
Holo gave a shy smile in response to Lawrence’s bewilderment.
“Isn’t it strange? What is sad is sad, and what is painful is painful, but all the ups and downs, and even the depths of the abyss, where I sit with my knees to my chest—I find delight in it all.”
She was clearly not saying this to bring Lawrence peace of mind, so he could only watch her, completely blank faced. Pork sausage was brought to their table, and Holo surprisingly cut Lawrence a piece, so he slowly brought it to his mouth.
The bursting fat was sweet, and he found himself desperately wanting a sip of ale.
“’Twas only after meeting you that I learned to enjoy everything life has to offer, I think,” she said, biting into the sausage with an innocence that rivaled her daughter, Myuri. “I suppose ’tis like finding bitter ale delicious. So…mm. I will not tell you to stop doting on me. In a way, by marrying me, you made a promise to dote on me for the rest of your life.”
Despite how bluntly she spoke the words, having her state it in such a clear manner only made the former merchant happy, considering how he understood the joy in another keeping to a contract.
“And so, I have a request for you. Days filled with joy do bring me joy, yes, but I want to feel the full range of sadness when I am by your side, as well. I want to enjoy whatever emotion comes to me when our exciting days spent with that vexing girl and the fluffy, annoying squirrel suddenly come to an end. I want to find delight in sadness that has no outlet, in finding a spot to sulk and mope.”
That seemed unhealthy to Lawrence, but what told him it was not was how he saw the minstrels finish tuning their instruments. Each headed for different taverns—their own territory, presumably—greeted the customers, and began taking song requests.
At some point in his travels, Lawrence had learned one thing:
Songs played for money were not meant to rile up a crowd—they were sad tunes.
“Because I know I am safe when I cry beside you.”
Living was not a series of constant joys. But that did not mean it was pain that constantly plagued faulty people, as the clergy spoke of it.
Having both joy and despair at opposite ends of the spectrum meant that they could find delight in the world in all different shades and hues.
“Shall we request a song?”
Holo called the minstrel over and jerked her chin at Lawrence. Lawrence, completely at Holo’s whim, hurriedly pulled out some coins and placed them in the minstrel’s hand.
“What sort of tune shall I play for you?”
This minstrel was unlike the ones who came to Nyohhira—he was on the shifty side, quite possibly the type to commit petty thievery.
Holo said to the minstrel, “Play us the most upbeat tune you have. One that will deafen me.”
The minstrel’s eyes widened in surprise before a dauntless smile crossed his face.
It was his way of telling her that he was happy to take on the challenge.
Fortunately, a crowd of sailors had just thronged into the tavern.
It was the perfect opportunity to spark the crowd.
“Lend me your ears! This tune will be the envy of legends!”
He strummed his instrument, and the customers turned to look.
When he began to stomp his feet, the excitable members of the crowd began to join in.
There was visible concern on a serving girl’s face. She was likely worried about whether or not the platform over the river would hold. The stakes that sprouted from the river began to creak under the pressure, causing little ripples in the water.
As the raucous uproar grew, Lawrence and Holo instead found a quiet moment between them.
“I believe my ears will be ringing by the time we go to sleep tonight,” Lawrence said, exhausted.
“What? The one thing I can find no joy in is a hangover,” replied Holo calmly.
Lawrence shot her a look—perhaps she need not drink so much, then. But she gave him a pure smile and tilted her head; she deliberately downed her ale before asking for another mug.
Lawrence and Holo’s journey would continue.
The hour would grow late, and no matter how cold the wind blew, they would not be alone.
And the sun would rise in the east, yet again, on the morrow.