A person important enough could simply ask for a seat in a crowded tavern, and one would magically appear. When Eve told them that the reasons she was in Karlan were complicated and suggested they save it until after the banquet, Holo agreed without waiting for Lawrence’s response first.
And so as Holo, who was in a much better mood than she had been not too long ago, was about to sit in her seat, the proprietor came over to them to take their order and she yelled with glee, “Your best meat and drink!”
The reason Lawrence remained glum, of course, was not because he knew the funds would be going to Eve.
After watching Holo gulp down the fancy, clear wine, he looked down at his own tired expression in the reflection of the wine in his mug.
“Seriously, what on earth is going on?”
It came out more reproachful than he intended because he earnestly wished Holo would have said something earlier if she realized he had gotten the wrong idea.
“Glug… Glug… Ahhh! Sweet mead and filling ale are nice drinks, but wine is simply the best!”
They were soon brought a plate filled with freshly roasted pork, fat dripping from the carvings onto the plate—there must have been a roast going on in the kitchen at all times. What was interesting was that it came with mustard and all sorts of spices, allowing Holo to season the meat as she liked.
Lawrence stared hard at the spices, knowing that bringing some of them to an apothecary would fetch him quite the handsome penny.
“This is quite a stylish way of eating, unlike pork slathered in garlic sauce. And this… Ah! This will be quite useful in times like these.”
In her hand, she held a metal spoon, the eating end of it split into three points. They had in their kitchen something of a similar shape, but as big as a spear; it was used for spit-roasted pig and putting large chunks of beef into stew pots. A very clever someone realized it would be convenient to shrink it down to use at the dining table.
And Holo did indeed manage to lift a piece of pork, coat it in spice, and bring it to her mouth, all without dirtying her hands. Most of those who ate like this were the dainty diners from the south, and this utensil had been likely introduced at Eve’s suggestion.
Lawrence made a general mental note to adopt the practice into the bathhouse, too.
“Well?” Lawrence asked again, and Holo, who was too enraptured by the delicious plate of food before her, gave a bothersome shrug.
“Not much at all is going on. I’ve known for quite a while that she has wanted to let loose. We invited her to Nyohhira when you took me in with your slick talk, no? It was then that we spoke.”
During the long reception that followed the wedding, Lawrence most certainly recalled seeing Holo and Eve speaking rather intimately with each other.
But he never learned of what they spoke, and he never would, since it did not seem like it was something he could ask about.
As Lawrence waited for her to continue, she paused, mug of wine still in her hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and she jumped in her seat. He saw her wolf ears prick beneath her hood.
“…’Tis nothing. The memory simply brings me back to the time,” she said and took a swig of her wine. When she spoke again, it was as though she was trying to forget something. “She asked me what it felt like to create a weakness for myself.”
It was Lawrence’s turn to freeze.
“Weakness?”
Holo shrugged again, took another swig of wine, took a bite of her pork, took a bite of yet another dish that had arrived—fish slathered in some sort of sauce—and answered, “She is much more of a coward than I am. She had grown rather bored of hoarding gold and traveling alone, yet she had been unable to take the next step.”
That caught Lawrence off guard. Holo gave a half-hearted grin as a hint of pride crossed her features.
“I have you. She has no one. ’Tis a big difference.”
“…”
Holo and Eve certainly seemed like entirely different people, but they did have similar qualities.
A pessimistic quality, one where neither could fully believe in the future.
“I decided to believe in a foolish promise a fool like you presented to me. That foolish promise of an interesting life, of always refilling my cup the moment it went empty.”
She finished drinking her first glass just as she finished speaking, so Lawrence dutifully ordered a new glass for her like a good servant.
“And?”
“That is all. When she saw us and our bathhouse, she at last realized ’twas a stupid thing to continue being the wounded wolf. Her wounds would not heal by hiding in the hollow of a tree, by always growling at her enemy. That is not the sort of hurt she has. But I suppose I cannot speak, considering how I lamented so long by myself in that wheat field…”
Eve was the daughter of former nobility from the Kingdom of Winfiel, but Lawrence had heard she had followed her predetermined fate after her family fell from grace. An affluent merchant purchased the entire family with the intent of making the reputation of their highborn family his own, and after the merchant that became her husband went bankrupt and she lost her means to live, she eventually molded herself into the merchant she was today.