Rivers, without fail, passed through several private lands, and that meant checkpoints sat in each one.
Most consisted of nothing more than a riverside hut run by one or two overbearing tax collectors, but some were lively places where multiple land-borne trade routes intersected. Those were proper post towns where inns and taverns meant for travelers could be easily found.
The place where Lawrence and Holo were staying was not the most developed, but there were at least three buildings that offered meals and lodging, as well as some local artisans who mended clothes and shoes—more than enough amenities for a traveler to rest in comfort.
As vexing as it was to be taxed at each checkpoint, this was a place meant for travelers. It was nice to sit outside a tavern and have a drink during the day without needing to worry about any judgmental glares.
Lawrence sipped at his cheap wine, which had become somewhat tasty only after he added a gratuitous amount of honey. At the same time, he gathered information as people passed him by.
The moment he realized a shadow had fallen over him, he also noticed a girl had brusquely taken the seat across from him.
“You seem quite comfortable on your own, no?”
The one who had decided to insult Lawrence without so much as glancing at him was a girl who seemed to be in her early teens.
But she seemed in her element by the way she raised her hand to catch the bartender’s attention, and it was clear she knew what she was doing by the way she ordered a sweet yet sour juice that would one day become alcoholic cider. Today, however, its duty was to ease her hangover, and she made sure to order honey to make it even sweeter. Despite how young she looked, she was still the same centuries-old wolf.
“I am pleased. There is plenty of the good honey here.”
“But that doesn’t make it any cheaper.”
“You fool,” Holo said, eyes dropping to the piece of jerky by his hand. Though she frowned, likely not pleased by the prospect of eating tough food right after waking up, she still reached out and pulled the entire plate toward herself, as though deciding that she would make do with what he had.
“Shouldn’t you have porridge or something instead?”
“Then order it for me. Make it hot.”
Her drink that came shortly after was a deep red that likely came from steeped gooseberries. She took a swig and immediately squeezed her eyes shut—perhaps it was sour, even with the honey. After exhaling heavily, Holo bit into a piece of jerky.
Lawrence was glad she seemed healthier and asked for soup with breadcrumbs in it.
“And? What led you to leave me behind and come drinking, hmm?”
“You’re not even sick. You wanted me to stay with you and hold your hand?”
Holo kicked Lawrence under the table. He could see it was partly their normal banter, yes, but what stood out to him was how she seemed genuinely frustrated with him.
Perhaps she did not mind so much that he was gone when she woke up, but that the open window had swept away most of his scent.
Even though this wolf seemed laidback at a glance, she had lived for much longer than any normal human lifespan; her waking moments were often plagued by the sneaking suspicion that everything was but an ephemeral dream. And in that moment of self-doubt, she must have rushed to the window only to find Lawrence enjoying a drink by himself. Most likely, that was what had set her off.
“You didn’t hear a word I said this morning, did you?” Lawrence asked flatly.
“What are you talking about?” Holo narrowed her eyes at him.
“Obviously, it’s the very reason we’re lounging around at the inn, even though it’s way past noon.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but she knew anything she said would have the opposite effect.
She pouted and sipped on her honeyed juice.
“There’s some kind of big city council meeting at the port down the river.”
Lawrence reached to pluck a piece of what remained of his jerky, watching new ships arrive from upstream. Yet none were leaving the docks, which meant they were crowded with boats. There was a lot more traffic headed downstream than he expected.
“It sounds like they’re discussing taxes, so everyone’s keeping a close eye on it.”
Holo, who still looked very hungover, lightly furrowed her brow and said, “Then should it not be the opposite?”
She followed his gaze toward the docks just as a new ship bursting with cargo arrived. The idle apprehension that it would not be able to fit anywhere was for naught—the skilled pilots easily guided it into the tiniest of spots.
“Are taxes not the worst nightmare of you merchants? Why not rush downriver before they are levied against you?”
“If I did, you’d be feeding the river fish your dinner from last night right about now.”
Ships that crossed the sea rolled, but so did those that traversed the river. Lawrence could not help but smile when he pictured a languid Holo—she was always adorable—but when he noticed the wolf looking at him dubiously, he cleared his throat.
“To everyone’s surprise, they’re talking about lowering the tariffs to enter the city.”
The reason Holo did not quip at Lawrence right away was because the soup came at the exact same time.
She scooped up the soggy bits of bread with her wooden spoon and began to devour it.
“And that’s why everyone—travelers and even merchants—are all staying put until the local council announces their verdict.”