Holo came running to Lawrence’s side. He had been watching her as a spectator would.
“What say you? Impressive, no?” prodded Holo proudly, standing in stark contrast to Elsa, who remained humble despite having served Bishop Van his comeuppance.
But their differences corresponded exactly to the differences between Lawrence and Evan.
Evan shoved the chalice into the hands of one of the clergymen before running over to Elsa and embracing her tightly.
Lawrence’s gaze, along with the villagers’, was drawn in by the sight. Holo sniffed her displeasure.
“You seem quite envious.”
Lawrence saw the challenge in Holo’s smile as she said this. Afraid, he could only shrug. “Aye, quite envious.”
Holo appeared taken aback by the unexpected reply.
“Envious because I was behind the scenes the whole time. Elsa and Evan were onstage. You sprung the trap.”
This was a successful diversion.
Holo sighed, her expression one of disappointment. “Still, the issue of coin has not yet been settled. That job falls to you, does it not?”
“It does. Although...”
Lawrence took the situation in and thought it over.
The tables had been turned.
The mouse had managed to bite the cat. It might as well try to come away with some meat, Lawrence felt.
As the scene changed before his eyes so did his ideas.
In his mind, Lawrence put together a plan that he would never dare try in any other town. It made him feel slightly sadistic.
“Indeed. I suppose this might be worth trying,” he said to himself, unconsciously stroking his beard. He became aware of Holo’s gaze on him.
She was looking up at him, clearly surprised.
It was rare to see her genuinely surprised. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Heh...are you sure you are not a wolf yourself?”
The statement was so disconnected to anything that he couldn’t help looking dumbfounded. “Huh?”
Holo chuckled, her fangs showing. “That face might suit you a bit better.”
Lawrence withdrew at this point, worried that continuing would only lead him to fall into yet another of Holo’s traps. Holo did not push the subject, evidently satisfied with just a bit of teasing.
In any case, their usual banter would have to wait.
There was still business to take care of and revenge to be had.
Bishop Van and the rest of the people from Enberch were descending from the meeting stone, heading over to Sem’s house to draw up some documents. Lawrence jogged over to them.
“They may go with Sem to settle matters of religion, but you, Mr. Riendott—you have matters of coin to attend to,” he sa id.
Riendott looked like a criminal who had been unable to escape capture.
Bishop Van did not know Lawrence and was about to demand to know who he was when Sem, having listened to a short whispered comment from Elsa, spoke softly to him.
A surprised “ah” was all the bishop could manage.
Likewise, the villagers regarded Lawrence with suspicion until hearing Sem’s explanation. Their expressions of surprise were different from Van’s, but eventually they nodded begrudgingly,
Holo whispered in Lawrence’s ear, “It seems he is willing to leave everything to you.”
Lawrence had gone from being suspected as the villain who'd poisoned the village’s wheat to the man responsible for negotiating on that same village’s behalf.
Remaining there on the meeting stone, Riendott seemed painfully aware of the fact that he had set Lawrence up. He looked like
he was about to cry.
The stone was still surrounded by villagers, and even the people from Enberch discussed the miracle in excited tones.
In this atmosphere, the negotiations would be simple.
“Well then, Mr. Riendott.”
“Er, yes!” came his hoarse reply. It was hard to tell whether he was deliberately trying to elicit sympathy or not.
By the way Holo coughed and glared at the man, his actions were probably an act.
“I have been asked by Miss Elsa and the village elder to conduct all financial negotiations. I would first ask whether every villager here can accept those terms.”
“If the village elder says so, I don’t see that we have a choice,” said one villager.
The baker piped up next, scratching his head. “We’ve always left everything to do with coin to the elder.”
Lawrence nodded. “There it is, then. I shall begin with the greatest demand. I would have you keep the wheat.”
Riendott sputtered, “Th-that’s preposterous! I couldn’t possibly!”
“Why is that?”
“Th-the reputation of the wheat! After all, a man has died! My shop’s reputation has been damaged!”
Given everything else, the story of a death had also probably been a lie.
Lawrence looked at Holo. Her eyes asked him what he wanted to do. Yes, the dead man was a lie surely.
But there was nothing to be gained in exposing it. That could even prove fatal.
“And besides—besides!” continued Riendott. “It’s written in the contract with Father Franz that any wheat touched by Khepas liquor will be returned!”
This was an obvious position for him to take, and the villagers could hardly argue this point.
Even if they suspected Riendott himself of planting the poison in the wheat, they could prove nothing.
“Very well, then. Suppose we accept the returned wheat. What would the price be?”
Riendott took a deep breath upon hearing Lawrence’s concession, as though he was finally breaking the surface after having been trapped underwater.
“T-two hundred lim—”
“That’s absurd!” cried the baker, grabbing Riendott by his collar. “That’s the price you paid us originally, you bastard!”
It was true—Riendott must have sold off at least some of the wheat already, so he could hardly demand the same amount back. Moreover, if that was the amount the village truly owed, the people would still be short a full seventy Umar.
Lawrence couldn’t help admiring Riendott’s sheer nerve, quoting the highest possible price even in these circumstances. “F-f-fine then...O-one hundred ninety—”
The baker tightened his grip, but Lawrence stopped him.
His intention was not, however, to save Riendott.
“Mr. Riendott, if another miracle was to happen, that would be quite disadvantageous for you, would it not?”
The villagers did not understand the true meaning behind these words, but thanks to Holo seeing through Riendott's lie, Lawrence knew what worried the man most.
What he feared most was that Enberch’s lie would be exposed. Riendott’s face looked like a drowning pig’s. “O-one h-hundred...six...ty..."
In trenni silver, this came to a concession of eight hundred pieces. The baker loosened his grip.
Lawrence watched Riendott cough; this was probably the limit of how much the man could afford to concede.
Pushing further would only serve to create more resentment. After all, the contract between Tereo and Enberch had been abnormal to begin with.
“In that case, let us settle the return at that amount. Let all present bear witness.”
Each villager nodded, and Riendott finally looked up.
Now came the crux of the matter.
Though Lawrence had extracted a significant concession, it still was not a sum that the village could afford to repay. In order to prevent this whole farce from repeating itself, a more proper contract needed to be established.
“Incidentally Mr. Riendott,” said Lawrence.
“Y-yes?”
“Regarding this returned wheat—I presume it would not be possible to persuade you to repurchase it.”
Riendott immediately shook his head. He would ruin his business in such a transaction.
“Understood. However, according
to Elder Sem, the village does not have enough cash to buy back the wheat. Even at one hundred sixty Iimar, there is still not enough.”
The villagers raised their voices in surprise.
Evidently the elder had hidden this truth from them in order to avoid a panic.
“Thus I have a proposal for you,” continued Lawrence before the villagers could pounce on Riendott.
“Wh-what do you...?”
“It is but a simple thing. I would ask that you persuade the bishop to allow the village to sell wheat under his name.”
Riendott thought hard, obviously trying to see what Lawrence hoped to gain in such a deal.
He would not figure it out, though, Lawrence was confident.
“I-if you plan to sell to another wheat broker...you had best give up as—”
“Why?!” shouted the baker, causing Riendott to recoil in fear briefly. His look made it clear that this was not something under his control.
“It’s been a good harvest this year...There’s a surplus of rye. No matter where you look, no town can possibly buy the amount this village is looking to sell. To preserve trust, we’ve already bought all we could...”
Despite its purported poisoning being a lie, the wheat now had a history. Merchants would avoid it if they could.
“No, even if that’s true, it will not matter,” said Lawrence. "So, will you do us this favor?”
Riendott looked at Lawrence beseechingly, then nodded slowly He seemed at once to be begging for God’s grace and praying that a miracle would not occur. It was a strange sight.
“I-I s-suppose that would be a-acceptable...”
“One more thing.”
“Wha-”
“It is possible that the people of Enberch may try to cause trouble with the business I am planning. I would ask that you be our ally in such a case.”
Riendott’s mouth dropped open. “Ah—surely you don’t plan to make bread!”
“Close, but no. The bakers would never allow such a thing, would they?”
Riendott managed to nod despite his fleshy chin.
Still, it was true that Lawrence’s plan was very near to a bread baker’s business.
“Also, regarding payment, it will have to wait until the business is moving along well,” said Lawrence.
“What—what are you—”
“I certainly won’t force anything upon you. I’ll even add a condition you may well find attractive.” Lawrence looked over at the assembled villagers, then back to Riendott. “What would you say to dissolving Father Franz’s contract—the contract that requires
Enberch to unconditionally purchase Tereo’s wheat?”
The villagers instantly raised their voices in protest. “Hey, you can’t do that just because you’re negotiating for us!” said one.
“Ah, but so long as this condition remains, it will be a source of resentment on Enberch’s part, is that not so?”
It was a difficult question to answer, but Riendott, the largest wheat merchant in all of Enberch, finally nodded.
“This was never a normal contract to begin with. Normally a village has one of its citizens who’s good with money take charge of such things—that’s business,” said Lawrence.
Riendott nodded emphatically but soon shrank back at the angry glares he received.
“What say you, Mr. Riendott? Will you agree?”
“Hey! You can’t just—!” came the protests, but Lawrence did not back down.
He was confident that he would be able to turn a large profit here.
“If Mr. Riendott and Bishop Van are on our side, I can tell you a way for this village to create a business that will turn wonderful profits,” said Lawrence with a smile.
His confidence was disarming; the villagers backed down.
“What-what kind of business...?” asked one.
Lawrence enjoyed the moment of superiority and then explained. “I suppose I’ll tell you. You’ll need some cooperation from the baker.”
A bit surprised, the baker nodded.
“Then can you make ready some eggs and butter? And honey if you have it.”
All present looked at once amazed and confused.
It was Holo alone who spoke. “It sounds like something rather tasty shall come from all this.”
Epilogue
After finishing the packing of their traveling gear and returning to the church’s living quarters, Lawrence could hear a loud crunching sound.
The sound, like footsteps upon a gravel path, was probably Holo eating.
He didn’t know how many times he had told her not to eat while reading, but she never listened.
Elsa, too, would scold Evan any time she caught him eating and dropping crumbs everywhere, shaking her head with a sigh.
Occasionally during such times, Elsa and Lawrence’s eyes would meet, and they would share a long-suffering smile.
It had been three days since the conflict between Enberch and Tereo ended.
Given the outcome, the deal Lawrence had struck was a great success.
Tereo had wound up owing Enberch thirty-seven Iimar—over seven hundred trenni pieces. However, with the agreement that Lawrence had arranged with Riendott, Tereo would not only pay the debt off, but also stood to make money from Riendott.
Lawrence had used the village’s wheat and the baker’s assistance to make cookies.
They were not dissimilar to unleavened bread, which was made with flour and water but without the yeast that caused regular bread to rise. Adding butter and eggs to this unleavened bread mixture, however, created something surprisingly delicious,
Cookies were common in the south, but for whatever reason, Lawrence had never seen them in the north.
Having discovered during a dinner with Elsa and Evan that they were unfamiliar with the different types of bread in the world, Lawrence had been convinced that the villagers would not know of cookies—and he had been right.
Cookies looked nothing like bread. While the baker’s guild strictly prohibited other businesses from baking and selling bread, foodstuffs aside from bread fell outside the scope of its rule.
Though the baker’s guild would surely protest, as long as the villagers had the support of Riendott and Bishop Van, theirs would remain a mutually beneficial relationship.
Cookies being a rare and delicious product, they sold well in Enberch. They sold so well that it seemed possible for the purported surplus of rye wheat to be insufficient for demand.
However, business of this sort could easily be copied, so it was only in the beginning that large profits would come with relative ease.
So it was that Lawrence had not demanded a share of the profits. Instead he had asked the villagers to buy the wheat he carried in his cart with a bit of extra coin included by way of apology.
If the people of Tereo planned to turn the cookies into a local specialty, they had a lot of hard work before them.
But the cookies’ deliciousness, at least, was guaranteed.
After all, in the three days since the end of the dispute, Holo had eaten nothing else.
To any who ate the cookies for the first time, their taste and texture could be addictive.
“Well then, it’s about time to be off,” said Lawrence.
Holo was happily spilling crumbs all over the pages of one of Father Franz’s books. She looked up, annoyed at the light tap Lawrence had given her.
Elsa was right outside the church, praying intensely over Lawrence’s cart for a safe journey while Elder Sem and the villagers had decided on their own to pray to Truyeo that Lawrence’s business would thrive.
The villagers’ attitude toward the church had changed. Some had even begun attending services out of gratitude.
No doubt in the future, Tereo would worship two gods.
Holo stood up from the chair in which she sat, grabbing a cookie from a mountain of the same on the table and holding it between her teeth.
“You know we have piles of those things in the cart.
If this is like when you bought so many apples we could hardly eat them all, you’ll have naught but cookies for every meal,” warned Lawrence.
Holo took a bite out of the cookie with a loud crunch, regarding Lawrence with irritation. “Uh, just who was it, I wonder, that separated the good wheat from the bad and created that miracle? Had I not been there, you would’ve been tossed naked into a cauldron and boiled alive.”
It pained Lawrence to hear it, but Holo had been eating cookies at an absurd rate—even the villagers, who felt they owed her a great debt, were stunned into silence by the sight of her devouring the treats.
He felt he could warn her a bit without risking retribution.
“Mmph,” Holo continued. “We surely met with calamity this time around.”
It was a forced change of subject, but she was not wrong.
“Well, at least we turned a profit in the end.”
“Is that all you care about?” laughed Holo, her cheeks stuffed with cookie. “For my part, I cannot say that my hopes were met, but I did well enough. I suppose it was worth the effort.”
She looked at the book that recorded the tales of the Moon-Hunting Bear—which she had now read fully three times—and sighed. “So, where are we going next?”
“Lenos. There’s a legend there in which you personally appear."
“Mm. I suppose it would be a bother to get caught in snow because we dragged our feet. We’d best get on with it.”
Lawrence knew that Holo’s true desire was to head north as soon as possible, but when he considered the journey that lay ahead, it was no wonder that the idea of lounging about in a suddenly comfortable village was appealing.
He was somewhat surprised that she was ready to go after just three days.
“Shall we?” she said.
“Quite.”
As soon as Lawrence and Holo emerged from the church, the villagers gathered to send them off. Gloomy apologies like “Sorry we doubted you” were long since done with.
All that remained were happy wishes for safe travel.
“May God’s blessing go with you,” said Elsa, a gentle smile on her face.
This was enough to make a man happy—which Lawrence was despite the foot stomp he received from Holo.