Spice & Wolf XVII (DWT)

  “..you know, even if you keep your armor, you’ll have more than enough cash for a heck of a journey. That, and anyone who can single-handedly maintain a place like this will have no problem getting a job as a gardener or mason.”

  “It’s alright. I was knighted by the Count to defend this place, so it wouldn’t do for me to take it with me when I leave.”

  The most difficult customers to deal with were stubborn old folks. They were tough and decisive. Lawrence couldn’t help but disagree, but when he saw the sad look in Fred’s eyes he decided to drop the subject. Fred didn’t really want to part ways with the armor, but taking it with him would only be a heavy burden on his heart. Lawrence’s sentimentality couldn’t change that.

  “Alright then, let’s go have a drink. I’d like to share some of the wine before you leave.”

  Fred was trying to put on a playful tone, doing his best to imply that his life had been so good that he could afford to drink before noon. They left the treasure vault after he had placed his helmet back in its crate.

  * * *

  “I was actually in several large-scale wars. Some of them were set down in records and will be remembered for centuries to come. I lost my helmet when I was shot several times, and then fainted as I was struck by axes. The smith who looked after my armor told me that I had to be blessed for it to still be in such good shape.”

  Fred took out some pale wine and poured a glass for Lawrence. The thin layer of sediment in the bottle made it clear that this wasn’t some cheap wine with added ginger - it was the real deal. Lawrence had never been able to afford such high class wine, and it felt oddly out of place under the same roof as a hungry chicken and hog, but his hesitation only seemed to please Fred.

  “God really must like me to send such a knowledgeable young visitor my way!”

  He motioned for Lawrence to drink it down, then downed his own glass in a single gulp. Lawrence had to match him, but he was instinctively wondering if he could somehow secretly spit the wine back out and sell it later.

  “I really wanted to have one last drink with Count Phil, but..”

  His smile wasn’t one that suited an old man, but rather a young boy with grand dreams of heroism. The moment Lawrence finished his glass, it was already full of the delightful stuff again. Out of fear of getting drunk, Lawrence kept the conversation going.

  “Where are you going to go when you leave?”

  Fred looked up after he’d happily refilled his own glass. It was the kind of wine only fit for nobles, but Fred didn’t seem to care enough to keep some of it from splashing onto the ground. One of the sheep promptly licked it clean, however.

  “I’m going to seek out my old friends. They’ve sent me letters from time to time, through that ever-so-helpful monastery.”

  He was being too boorish for any wine, let alone this stuff. Half of his second glass was already gone by the time he bit into some sausage.

  “They were excellent soldiers, but their time’s coming just like mine is. This might be our last chance to chat about the past. It’d be nice to see how the towns I defended have changed, too, and pray in the churches that we lost to the enemy. I’d like to end up in heaven, you see.”

  His smile was full of charm; he seemed every bit like a veteran soldier trained on battlefields. Lawrence felt a pang of shame that he couldn’t be such a man when he grew old.

  “In the end, I’d like to pass away on a nice warm hill somewhere. You travel a lot, right?”

  He turned to face Lawrence.

  “Of course..”

  “Then you probably know what I mean, huh? You’re so starving you think it’s over, but at least you’ll breathe your last in a nice sunny place. It’s a peaceful feeling.”

  He was looking at the ceiling as if he could see the sky right through it. Lawrence drank a bit more wine, comparing the man before him to the merchant who had only ever stared at the ground hoping to find dropped coins. When Lawrence was starving, he’d consider boiling leather to keep from thinking about eating his own horse. He couldn’t just lie down and peacefully wait for death; it was an utterly foreign concept. Yet he felt a tinge of sadness at that realization, making him look away.

  “If possible, that’s how I’d like to go. Although actually..”

  Fred trailed off, and Lawrence couldn’t hear the rest of his sentence. When asked for clarification, he only denied saying anything. His mouth did move, however, so he just wasn’t able to say whatever it was out loud. He looked like he wanted to drown that thought with more wine.

  “Just what would a knight want to hide from a merchant, having already shown him all his treasures?”

  Hearing that said so bluntly made Fred slap his own forehead and laugh again. He tossed the bread that Stewart had been eying over to the hog, then spoke up.

  “Too true! I guess I just suddenly realized how old I am, now that I’m saying such things.”

  Stewart wasn’t satisfied with that little bread, so he walked up to Fred for more. His snout was pushed away, though, and Fred moved his food well out of his reach.

  “I was left lying on a hill looking up at the sky.. that was how my first battle ended.”

  Lawrence had no idea how long ago that would be, but to Fred it seemed like it was only yesterday.

  “I had this new heavy armor, and didn’t know the horse I was on, so I was nervous as hell. My foe and I fought for a good two or three rounds before I thought I’d bested him. But before I knew it, I was flat on the ground. Armor’s heavy, you see, so it doesn’t matter how strong it is when you fall down. You won’t be getting back up yourself. You’re just a sitting duck.”

  Lawrence couldn’t help but laugh as he pictured Fred lying there like a turtle on its back.

  “Of course, I was already mentally prepared for the worst. I couldn’t hear anything because my ears were ringing, but right there in the middle of that battle I looked up at the sunny sky and thought I could see a little piece of heaven up there.”

  His voice became quite soft again.

  “Turns out that I fell off my horse when I got a little over-eager.”

  Falling off a horse in a suit of armor could be fatal, but Fred only passed out and wasn’t killed or robbed afterward. He truly was blessed. And yet, he obviously wasn’t talking about the topic he had trailed off about earlier. In fact he seemed to realize that he wasn’t fooling Lawrence, given how he was scratching his nose and drinking while watching Stewart and Paula squabble over a bit of bread. He didn’t talk again until he’d finished his third glass of wine.

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Alright.”

  It had been quite a while since he last spoke, so Lawrence had time to guess what he was going to say. The key was how Fred had acted with regard to his armor. Lawrence couldn’t help but crack a smile as Fred’s face went red. Fred was staring at him as dispassionately as he could.

  “Would you like to be my final adversary?”

  Before Fred left this place, he wanted to relive his memories one last time. Lawrence knew it made him less of a merchant to have this much empathy for those he was dealing with, but there were some requests that he just couldn’t decline.

  “I’d love to.”

  With that, Fred rose to his feet like he had been pushed into this, and stared out the window at the sun.

  * * *

  The suit of armor was in good condition, save for the straps that had rotted away and needed replacement. Luckily, Fred’s talents would put a craftsman to shame. In no time at all, he had cut tanned leather straps into the required length. In the meantime, Lawrence did his best to polish the rest of the armor, and noticed the many dents it had accumulated.

  There was one mark on the breastplate that looked bad enough to be deadly, but Fred laughed it off. It wasn’t as though he knew why he was spared, it had just turned out that way. It seemed he was that type who could only die from something harmless, like a child poking him with a stick.

  ??
?Hmm, not bad at all.”

  It was early afternoon when Fred finally replaced the final strap. The sheep were grazing with Stewart, acting like the best of friends. Paula had vanished somewhere behind the tower, and they only heard what sounded like a bunch of hens gossiping together. Lawrence had seen enough of the armor to know how impressive it was, despite it’s imperfections. He still couldn’t fathom how Fred could possibly sell something this important.

  “I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to put it on.”

  Fred eyed his armor as he voiced his concern. He obviously felt it would be too embarrassing for Lawrence to watch him put it on.

  “Well, we’ll need weapons, right? I saw some spears and swords in the treasure vault, so I’ll go get those. Which would you like?”

  Fred took some time to reply.

  “Grab a spear and a sword.”

  “One of each?”

  “Yes. I’ll use the sword. You can handle a spear, right?”

  Lawrence had heard that even young knights struggled to use a sword on horseback while wearing armor. It was usually difficult enough to hold a spear forward and charge their horse. And yet Lawrence decided to do as he was asked. The swords and spears were in rougher shape than the armor.. the spearheads looked like they were practically falling off. How could they possible have a mock-battle without repairing them? And yet, his thoughts were thrown into disarray when he returned; not only was Fred wearing his armor, but he was riding on a ram.

  “This is my finest steed, Edward the Second!”

  Edward the Second bleated disinterestedly. It seemed Fred knew his physical limits well enough to refrain from getting on a horse. But.. this was far too amusing for Lawrence to refrain from laughing out loud. Fred joined him, then loudly barked at Lawrence.

  “Hand me my sword!”

  After receiving the sword, he continued.

  “I am one of Count Phil’s knights, and ride under the banner of his Crimson Eagle! I am Fred Redmay!”

  He held aloft that sword with its hilt pressed against his chest, and the blade flat against his forehead. His motions were clean and fluid, the very image of a man who had never forgotten how to handle a sword in armor.

  “Take up your spear, young man!”

  At his shout, Lawrence immediately held up his crumbling spear, looking incredibly pathetic by comparison. Fred smacked Edward the Second’s flank, and after bleating in complaint, the ram charged at Lawrence. It all happened more quickly than Lawrence expected, with Fred riding by him and striking his spear with the flat of his sword.

  “What are you doing, young man? Are you afraid?!”

  Fred grabbed Edward the Second by the messy scruff of his neck, and steered him back toward Lawrence. An aged knight in full armor was riding a disheveled ram. Fred wore everything with such dignity that the scene was utterly hilarious.

  “Will the Goddess of Victory bless your spear or my sword? Time to find out!”

  Edward the Second was doing his best to flee the battlefield, taking his rider with him. But he was just a ram, so he ultimately gave in and jogged back toward Lawrence. Fred was waving his sword in grand, intimidating gestures as he stared Lawrence down. There was no trace of excitement or emotion on his face - he was terribly calm.

  Lawrence did his best to plant his feet and thrust the spear forward at the huge target riding his way, but Fred effortlessly parried the thrust with such grace that he didn’t seem like an old man anymore. Edward the Second, on the other hand, had reached the limit of his patience and charged wildly ahead.

  Fred was too weighed down with his armor to keep up with the wild ram, so he was leaning too far back and Lawrence was able to score a hit. Of course, the spearhead harmlessly fell off as he did, even if Fred did collapse onto the ground. Lawrence couldn’t believe what had happened, and cast aside his broken spear to run to Fred.

  “Mr. Fred!”

  Lawrence saw Fred staring straight up at the sky, though he was impressed to find that the old man was still clutching his sword. Lawrence instinctively worried that Fred’s back had given out, but soon remembered that he couldn’t possibly get up with that set of armor on his body. Fred stared straight up and spoke in a booming voice.

  “So God has finally given up on me.”

  He slowly turned his head to stare at Lawrence.

  “But will you show mercy?”

  Fred struggled to search for his dagger with his left hand, and lifted it up to Lawrence.

  “If so, then finish me off with one quick, clean stab.”

  Lawrence was like any other traveler who used a dagger as a tool for everything from carving to eating, but the dagger being handed to him was a weapon of war. Fred was offering the hilt to Lawrence, holding the blade in his gauntlet. Lawrence felt like he was staring at a fellow merchant handing him a blank check.

  Knights had a rigid code of honor, and their own ways of ending such battles. Such armor could only be defeated with a lucky decapitating blow from a broadsword or a powerful thrust from a strong spear, skewing their opponent’s chest. Neither was a particularly pleasant way to die, so their killing blows were usually more merciful stabs between the helmet and breastplate.

  Fred was staring at Lawrence, fully prepared to die. He was deadly serious, and it made Lawrence hesitate. The pressure of the situation ultimately won out, but Lawrence could only swallow as he realized how much longer this dagger was compared to the ones he was used to. Fred was being far too serious.. didn’t he just want a symbolic death?

  The Count was dead, and not even thieves honored him with their presence. Once his term of service was over, the monastery wouldn’t support him. All too soon, this place would be forgotten, along with the treasure vault this old knight had shown him. Committing suicide was a grave sin, but being killed in battle was honorable. Lawrence stared back at Fred, gripping the dagger tightly to keep his hand from trembling. He took a deep breath, and finally realized there was writing etched onto the dagger.

  “God is merciful.”

  Lawrence was awestruck. Knights were supposed to stoically accept their defeat, but that didn’t mean they wanted to die. They couldn’t say that out loud, so they carved their sentiments onto their weapons instead. They really did have a culture as heroic as the legends stated. Fred relaxed his neck and looked back up at the sky.. but he felt more than relaxed, he felt like a free man.

  “It seems I am being pitied.”

  “Yes. And by a merchant, no less.”

  Fred’s mouth twisted up and he sighed.

  “Then there’s no way I can call myself a knight anymore. My long, exciting, happy struggle is over.”

  Fred had just been set free, and could now leave the outpost.

  * * *

  The rain had stopped as Lawrence told his story. Holo was lying in his arms, motionless. A light breeze tickled Lawrence’s nose, with its chilly humidity mixing with Holo’s hair. Just as he wondered if she had fallen asleep, she stirred as though sneezing. He took a look at the fire and saw it had died down considerably.

  “..Hmph..”

  At first he thought Holo was mumbling in her sleep, but when her body swelled up he realized that she was yawning. With her head bobbing up to face the sky like that, she might as well be the Queen of the forest. Even her arm trembled as she reached it out toward the fire.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if she was just pretending to yawn to cover her tears, but as he did he felt her tail smack him across the face. She too had been left behind to watch over a place, only to be forgotten in time.

  “And this.. is all that is left now?”

  “Seems like it. I’m sure Fred was disappointed that he couldn’t find someone to care for this outpost after he left. After all that work, it was probably crushing to just abandon it.”

  Counts fought over every plot of land because fertile soil was rare enough to be worth the struggle. Even seeing such meager land go to waste was a great disappointment. Holo tossed a piece of wood
into the fire, as though hoping to burn her thoughts away. Sparks flew everywhere.

  “Perhaps this is just the way of the world.”

  She spoke lightly, then stood up and stared at the sky.

  “Everything changes with time, so we can only treasure what we have now. That’s probably the best we can hope for.”

  He felt pretty foolish to say something like that despite only being in his mid-twenties, and indeed the centuries-old Wisewolf seemed a bit embarrassed to hear him say it as well. She looked back at him with a smile.

  “I am hungry.”

  He flashed back a tired smile before fetching some bread and sausages. Eating at midnight was considered even more fanciful than eating breakfast, but Lawrence didn’t mind: he was hungry as well after sharing that story. He felt Holo’s eyes on him as he carved the sausage up with his dagger, and by the time he looked up her smile had turned into a malicious-looking smirk.

  “Just how much mercy will you show?”

  His hand stopped carving as he considered her words, but only for a moment. She loved food with a passion, and he was a stingy merchant. She was trying to suggest that a thicker slice showed more mercy, begging in her usual lighthearted manner. He wanted to beg her in turn, by asking her how much mercy she was willing to show in her portion sizes, but decided on another angle of attack. He kept his eyes on his work as he answered.

  “Are you saying you’d like me to quit being a merchant?”

  He continued cutting thin slices, but as he reached the end of the sausage Holo continued.

  “If you like, I will even finish you off with a quick, clean stab.”

  He wondered why she knelt back down, but soon he felt her hand carefully moving his so the next slice would be twice as thick. Her amber eyes were right there, staring at him. Not even a knight like Fred would have the courage to stand up to them, so Lawrence just pushed down where she positioned the dagger.

  “Oh, look! God is merciful!”

  She beamed a smile at him. A building that wasn’t being maintained would quickly fall apart, and people’s smiles were no different. They would fall apart when food became poor, and the Wisewolf’s smile was all the more demanding. Lawrence debated saying that out loud so she knew how much rationalizing it took him to accept her behavior, but in the end he just gave her an even thicker slice.