Both Meyer and the smith ventured into the forest to prepare them a special lunch to pray for the success of their plan. Lawrence remained behind, tasked with starting the fire in the oven meant for food, careful not to ignite Holo’s mood with those very flames.
“I’ll ask Selim myself,” he said.
It would likely weigh heavily on Holo if she were to ask her own kin to act as hunting dogs.
And the kind wolf seemed to have some resistance to the idea of deliberately spooking people.
“Do you think you could ask the wolves of the forest to make sure they don’t actually hurt anyone? I’ll be sure to prepare a reward for them.”
Holo was always willing to flash her canines whenever she got the opportunity, but she was surprisingly sensitive when it came to affairs between humans and wolves.
Though she always teased Lawrence for being too softhearted, it was in fact Holo who was the most sensitive about this sort of thing.
“…I believe I have become restless during our first journey in many years.”
She sat on a crate and hunched over, tail nervously twitching back and forth; it was likely a sign she now regretted offering her help.
“But we have to do this. Otherwise the lord is never going to change his mind,” Lawrence said, tossing more kindling into the fire.
However, Holo remained glum. “To think you would suggest such a straightforward plan.”
Lawrence turned around to look at her. She greeted him with piercing, narrowed eyes. Though he had thought she had been all right with everything in the end, he figured she must still be angry that he was resorting to her wolf powers.
But that was not quite it. With discontent in her voice, she said, “If you’re relying on me now of all times, then I can think of plenty of other times you could have asked me to help.”
“Huh?”
Lawrence responded quizzically only for Holo to turn away in a huff.
Kindling crackled in the fire, and Lawrence snapped back to the present.
She was not angry that he was asking for their help as wolves.
She was reprimanding him for not taking advantage of what she was fully capable of until now.
“I got your help when we set up the bathhouse, remember?”
It would have been impossible to set up a new bathhouse if they had failed to find new springs. That rule prevented any newcomers from easily joining the ranks of the Nyohhira bathhouses, and the reality was that all of the major springs had already been dug up and claimed.
But Holo’s nose and claws had found them a spring that would have needed a great deal of luck and too much effort if it was being excavated by human hands alone. Just that was enough to make Lawrence feel like he should offer her a fresh apple beside her pillow every day for the rest of his life.
“Besides, I’ve asked you to do all sorts of other things. I’m almost positive.”
He thought back on many trials they had been through together, but Holo’s expression remained glum.
Wearing an expression that was almost identical to one he had seen on the face of their daughter Myuri, Holo said, “It seems you’ve found yourself in a fix at last.”
Lawrence had been trying to be considerate toward Holo, but apparently, she just found it anxiety inducing. And the reason he always landed himself in these fixes was because he wanted to show off for her. But even if she knew this, Lawrence knew that Holo would remain quietly irritated and worried until he finally asked for her help.
She was upset because this was the one time he had been so quick to rely on her.
Lawrence shoved the kindling in the oven around with a stick before saying, “We use the card up our sleeve when it’s the right time to play it, and that applies right now. Look.” He lifted his gaze from the fire and scanned the deep forest that surrounded them. “This is a crossroads where not only the existence of this forest hangs in the balance, but also the future of the wheat fields. Am I right?”
Holo could hear people’s lies. And it seemed she was having trouble deciding whether or not what Lawrence said was untrue. To her, it sounded as though he was trying to change the subject, even though her ears were telling her he was being sincere.
And no matter which it may be, she would remain glum.
“You are a sheep,” she said, “and yet you somehow manage to be so elusive in times like this.”
All Lawrence could say in response was, “Sure. But if I were predictable and boring, you would have given up on me and gone to chew on some other bones a long time ago.”
Holo pursed her lips and widened her eyes. And after a long moment, she sighed.
At last, she gave an exasperated smile, one that was so emblematic of the wisewolf.
“You fool.”
Lawrence simply drew up his shoulders in a shrug. Holo stood from her crate and sat down beside him instead.
That meant she was done being grumpy.
“What will we be eating, I wonder.”
“Probably deer. I doubt being in the forest makes it any easier to hunt, though.”
“There are plenty of rabbits in this wood. And there seems to be plenty of water, which means there will likely be many of those rats with flat tails.”
“Wow, that brings back memories. We haven’t had those in a long time.”
Holo was talking about a large rodent that lived near the water’s edge. Its teeth could cut through wood, which it used to make its nests, and it was the main ingredient for a proud and popular dish among members of the clergy, who claimed that because it inhabited the water, its flesh was closer to fish than other meat.
“There are plenty of delicious foods we have yet to try in this world.”
“You’re right. That said, I should remind you my coin purse is not bottomless.”
Holo leaned her head on Lawrence’s shoulder and slumped with a frown.
“You are a stingy merchant.”
“Always have been.”
He grinned at her, and she offered a weary smile in return, then readjusted her head on his shoulder.
Her fluffy tail curled, wrapping around the back of his waist as though holding him closer in a hug.
The quiet forest pondside was filled only with the sound of crackling kindling.
Lawrence watched Holo close her eyes, pleased, and he gave a light sigh.
It seemed as though he would be able to save the Tonneburg Woods from danger—which was a problem entirely of his own creation, after he worked a little too hard in Salonia. Though it was not quite as bad as Holo’s hangovers, he knew he should reflect on his actions.
Just as he wondered whether or not his thoughts had reached her, the tail around him suddenly retracted and she stood up. He did not need to watch her to know that she had pulled her hood over her head and covered her tail with the long hem of her coat.
Meyer and the smith had likely returned with their game.
But when he turned to look, Lawrence spotted a figure coming down the road on the path leading toward the village.
Meyer and the smith were there, of course. But both of them seemed grim, almost as though the hunters had become the hunted—and it did not take long for Lawrence to see that was indeed the case.
Because behind them, sitting majestically on horseback, was clearly the lord and his entourage.
“So you are the merchant I have heard so much about.”
The tone and gaze that came from atop the horse made Lawrence instinctively search for an escape route.
“I heard you have some objections about how I manage my territory.”
Both Meyer and the smith hung their heads. On either side of the lord’s horse stood two conscripted farmers, both wearing leather armor that seemed unnatural on their persons and meekly holding spears.
And then there was the good-natured old priest, who seemed anxious.
It was clear who made the report to the lord, and it was not realistic for him to escape now.
Lawrence stood, as though protecting Holo, and graciously bowed his head.
“My name is Kraft Lawrence.”
The graying lord gave a deep sigh, powerful enough for the hairs on his beard to shudder, and then dismounted his horse.