The day he set off was unusually sunny for winter. The blue sky seemed as though it might sweep him up, and the snow on the ground reflected the sunlight so brightly it hurt his eyes. Such beautiful, sunny winter days were rare in Nyohhira, a hot spring village deep in the northlands. It was a beautiful, picturesque day for departing on a journey, but it made him slightly nervous that this beginning might have consumed all his luck.
However, when he dropped his gaze to his long, rough traveling mantle, it reminded him of a traveling priest’s garb. He reconsidered his fortune, thinking that there was no doubt this weather was a blessing from God for what was to come.
A pier jutted out into a river that flowed through the village. Though it was crowded during the changing of the seasons as guests came for the springs or returned home, only a single cargo boat was moored there now. The captain, a bearded, portly, middle-aged man, was currently carrying his passenger’s luggage aboard while bustling about as though his vessel might sink at any moment. Contrary to his appearance, he moved to and fro easily and finished quickly.
“We’ll be setting sail soon!”
The captain looked over and called out to him, and he waved instead of replying. Then, he took a deep breath and hauled his bag onto his shoulders. It was quite heavy, filled with gifts from those cheering him on.
“Col, do you have everything?”
Hearing his name, he turned around. Behind him stood the bathhouse master who had cared for him for over ten years and was now intently reviewing the luggage, Kraft Lawrence.
“You have money, a map, food, warm clothes, medicine, a short sword, and tinder, right?”
Lawrence, who was once widely known as a traveling merchant, busied himself with travel preparations. In fact, the one actually leaving on the journey was not nearly as conscientious as the more experienced man and relied on him completely.
“Sir, I’m sure he’s checked at least that much. He doesn’t have any more room, anyway.”
The woman waiting beside Lawrence spoke with an exasperated chuckle. Her name was Hanna, and she ran the kitchen in Lawrence’s bathhouse, Spice and Wolf.
“Oh, right. But still.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Lawrence. I once set off long ago with nothing but a single dried herring and whittled-down copper pieces.”
When Col first met Lawrence, he was just a child of barely ten years. Back then, he visited the university cities in pursuit of knowledge as a wandering student, though that was merely in name. Truth be told, he was practically a beggar. With nowhere to go, he spent all his money and found himself lost in a foreign land with no one to depend on. Then, luck led him to Lawrence, the man who saved him.
That was already ten—no—fifteen years ago. Whenever he wondered if he had grown since then, doubt gnawed at him. Lawrence’s youthful looks had not changed very much, standing in front of him as he was, so Col was under the illusion that he was still a young boy.
But the hands pulling closed the string on his bag had grown sturdy from hard labor in the bathhouse. His current height dwarfed his diminutive stature as a child, and his once silvery hair now appeared almost gold.
Whether for good or ill, time flowed as it should.
“Well, yes, that’s true…Plus, every clergyman acknowledges you as an intelligent young student now. I’m proud of you, too, and I could really stand to learn a thing or two from the late hours you keep for your studies.”
“Please don’t, sir. If you did that, I would have to spend even more time buying garlic and onions, so I’d rather you not.”
Lawrence’s compliment tickled him, but he shrank when Hanna spoke.
He always studied after his work for the day was done. What was more, he constantly struggled to keep his eyes open when he was working on manuscripts and reciting the scriptures. To stay awake, he would munch on raw onions and garlic, which resulted in countless lectures from Hanna because she wound up with no ingredients for cooking.
“But it’s been more than ten years. Thank you for supporting the business until now. Our bathhouse only got this far because of you, Col. You were a big help,” Lawrence said and spread his arms, pulling him into a big, strong, fatherly hug. Had he not met Lawrence, he did not know how he would have ended up. He should have been the one voicing his gratitude.
“No, thank you…I’m sorry for taking off during such a busy season.”
“Oh no. We’ve kept you in the bathhouse for too long. But if you go south and make it big, at least let us know.”
Lawrence, ever the quintessential merchant, always reassured Col like this.
“And…sorry the girls couldn’t come see you off,” he continued, his expression suddenly clouding.
“Holo already said her good-byes about a week ago. She said if she saw me off, she might try and stop me.”
Holo was Lawrence’s wife, and at times she acted like an elder sister or even second mother to young Col.
“She doesn’t like to let people go. But maybe that’s wise of her.”
Lawrence smiled dryly, and a sigh left his mouth.
“And I’m sorry Myuri has caused you so much trouble.”
“Oh no…”
He was about to deny it, but he recalled the commotion of the past few days, especially the night before.
“Well…she was threatening me with her fangs and then she finally did bite me.”
“Oh, boy.”
Lawrence pressed his hand against his forehead, as though he was suffering from a headache. Myuri was Lawrence and Holo’s only daughter, and she constantly wailed about wanting to leave the hot spring village and its remote region.
And when Col mentioned that he was about to set off on a journey, it was perfectly obvious what happened next.
“Both Myuri and Holo are strong of heart, but Holo knows when to give up and has the good judgment that comes with age. In that sense, Myuri is just like the midsummer sun.”
Though she was his only daughter, more precious to him than anything in the world, Myuri’s antics were the cause of Lawrence’s aching temples. She had calmed down recently, but during her youth she had often gone out to play in the mountains and returned covered in blood.
Now, she had reached where talk of marriage was fast approaching, so that was something else to deal with.
“I haven’t seen her all day. Maybe she’s in the mountains, sulking and crying her eyes out to a bear,” said Lawrence.
Col imagined Myuri clinging to the exasperated animal in its den, and he could not help but smile.
“When I’ve settled in, I’ll send a letter. Please bring everyone for a visit when I do.”
“Of course. But if you can, pick somewhere with lots of good food. Keeping those two happy during the trips is bound to be a hassle.”
“I’ll do that,” Col responded with a smile as Lawrence extended his right hand. This was not the same person who had hired him, nor was it the one who had saved his life as a child ten years ago.
This was the master of a bathhouse, offering a handshake while seeing off a traveler.
“Take care.” As if he had noticed Col’s inadvertent tears, Lawrence smiled even bigger and gripped his hand harder.
“Be careful of unboiled water and raw food.”
“You too, Ms. Hanna…Be well.”
He tried his hardest to hide the effect of his stuffed nose on his voice as he shook her hand as well. Then he hoisted up his bag.
“Hey, are you ready?!” the boat captain called. He must have been paying careful attention, because he chose the perfect moment.
“I’m coming!” Col called back, looking at Lawrence and Hanna. Once he left, it was possible he would not see them for many years or ever again. It might also be the last time he ever laid eyes on Nyohhira and the rising steam from its hot baths.
His legs would not move no matter how hard he tried, and that was when Lawrence patted him on the shoulder.
“Go, lad. Venture out into a new world!”
It would be false of him not to respond.
“Don’t call me lad. I’m already the age you were when I first met you!”
He took the first step, the second shortly followed, and he did not even think of the third.
When he looked back, Lawrence was smiling calmly with his hands clasped behind his back, and Hanna was waving modestly. He shifted his gaze beyond them, more reluctant than ever to part with the village of Nyohhira, and he wondered if that tomboy Myuri was there. He would have liked to see her pouting face peeking out from behind a tree, but there was no sight of the young girl. She was just as stubborn as her mother. He smiled a little and walked toward the pier.
“Did you finish saying your good-byes?”
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“That’s the life of a captain for you. You can’t go down the same river twice. Not that regrets are a bad thing, though.”
Steering a boat along the quiet rivers every day must naturally bring one wisdom.
Col nodded deeply at the captain’s words and boarded the vessel from the pier.
“You’re my only passenger. Feel free to take a nap on that pile of furs,” the captain said as he undid the rope tying down the boat.
At the phrase “pile of furs,” a memory surfaced in the young man’s mind, a story he had heard long ago.
A young traveling peddler had stopped in a certain village, and as was his custom, he spent the night in his wagon curled up atop his cargo of furs. When he did, a beautiful young girl appeared, asking him to bring her to her hometown. She had flaxen hair that was especially beautiful under the moonlight, as well as animal ears atop her head and a tail with the most exquisite fur on her behind. She called herself the wisewolf—the incarnation of a wolf that lived in the village’s wheat and commanded the harvest, a being who had lived for hundreds of years and would for many more. The peddler accepted the girl’s request, and together they set out on a journey. Together they experienced joy and sorrow, shared their feelings for each other, and then lived happily ever after. The end.
Unable to imagine such a thing happening to him, he entered the pile of furs and groped around. It was all right. No one was hiding in them.
Along with his impromptu bedding, the boat was crammed with barrels and sacks full of charcoal. The barrels were likely filled with leftover tree resin from the charcoal production process. The waterproof substance could be applied to prevent molding, and its strong burnt smell wafted toward him occasionally. The furs came from communities sprinkled through the mountains beyond Nyohhira. The people who inhabited these areas worked hard at hunting during the winter, and the sales from the pelts allowed them to purchase things they needed in town. It would be too much trouble for them to carry their wares all the way to market, so the furs were usually gathered in Nyohhira before being shipped off by boat. The same went for the charcoal and resin.
“There’s a lot of furs this year.”
“Yeah, business has been booming, fortunately. Nyohhira has always been very prosperous, but things are picking up everywhere now. You know the war between the northern lands and the southern Church ended years back, right? That reckless fight was over long ago, but the official end of the hostilities has made a tremendous difference,” the captain explained earnestly, heaving up the rope before hopping on board himself.
Strangely, the boat did not rock at all.
“Once we set off, it’s the beginning of your journey.”
Facing astern, the captain took hold of the pole. The craft slid forward slowly, gliding along the river’s surface. Though it was an ordinary day in Nyohhira’s long winter, the familiar sights of the village seemed different from the boat. This may very well be the first or even last time he saw Nyohhira as a traveler. When this thought crossed his mind, he suddenly could not help sitting up on his knees. Then, he waved to Lawrence and Hanna as they watched from the riverside.
“Thank you!”
Lawrence smiled and raised his hand casually. Hanna wore the same expression she did when the results of her cooking were satisfactory.
And before he knew it, they, too, vanished from sight. Mountain rivers flowed quickly.
“Well, you’ve said your good-byes. Now it’s time to look ahead,” the captain said to the young man staring back toward the village. His tone was not commanding but gentle, as if to encourage the young man. Slightly self-conscious, he gave the captain a strained smile and faced forward.
Ah, I’m leaving on a journey—a strangely sad yet exciting feeling wrapped around him.
“You were searching around in those furs a moment ago, weren’t you? Was there a rat or something?”
“Huh? Ah…Actually, I was remembering a story.”
Thus he told the captain about the meeting of the peddler and the wolf spirit. Such fantastic stories were everywhere, but the captain seemed quite interested.
“There will be plenty of opportunity to tell those kinds of stories to while away the time on our voyage. It’s great if there’s more. But searching around in the fur after remembering that story means you’re pretty superstitious for a young one.”
The captain would never believe him if Col said it was a true story, and if he mentioned that the daughter of that wolf could be hiding in the furs, the news might shock him. After all, the peddler in the tale was Lawrence, and the wolf hiding in his cargo was Holo.
Col had joined them on their extraordinary journey and assisted them in grand, dizzying adventures. Just recalling those memories stirred his excitement, though plenty of his experiences were terrifying as well.
But the biggest surprise after being swept up in their story did not come from the heart-pounding, blood-pumping moments. It was what he saw accompanying them in their life after their happily ever after.
He was astonished at their continued life of happiness, and he could do nothing but laugh.
“So how far are you going to go? You said Svernel for now, right?” The captain named a town that lay to the west down the river, then south by land—a town that had long prospered from trade of furs and amber.
“I will first gather information about my journey there. After that, I plan to head to Lenos.”
“Oh, Lenos! I know that town. It’s on a big river with ships always coming and going! I’ve heard that means plenty of checkpoints, too.”
Col knew it well. He had met Lawrence and Holo at one of those very checkpoints along the waterway.
“I see. What are you going to do there? Craftwork? Doesn’t seem likely…Trade, then?”
“No.” He shook his head a little and looked up at the sky, swearing an oath to the presence that should be there. “I want to become a clergyman.”
“Well, I didn’t know you were a priest! My, my.”
“But I’m still in training, so I don’t know if I can become one.”
“Ha-ha-ha. Don’t say that—it sounds like you don’t believe in God’s protection.”
That was true.
“But see, isn’t the Church involved in a big brouhaha with the Kingdom of Winfiel right now?”
The captain lowered the pole deep into the river, and the front of the boat turned to avoid a large rock. The mountains around Nyohhira contained no open fields with natural vistas. Snow piled high on the sheer cliffs, and even farther up, deer stared down at them in wonder.
“You know quite a lot.”
“Rivers carry not just water, but information as well.”
Apparently, the captain’s show of knowledge was deliberate. He was a cheerful person.
The river met the ocean west of here, and the Kingdom of Winfiel was a large island nation to the southwest of that. It was famous for wool and, lately, a flourishing ship manufacturing industry.
It had been a few years since the beginning of the dispute between the kingdom and the pope who led the Church overseeing the world’s faith.
“And they say the commotion started all because of taxes, right? That’s directly relevant to people who work in transport, like me. You hear about it even if you don’t want to.”
When a boat sailed downriver, it would pass through the lands of many lords. Every checkpoint the captain had to pass meant a tax, and there could be fifty or more along a big river. In some places, there were over a hundred.
In addition, though lords only charged tolls for their own territory, the Church could levy taxes in every place its teachings spread, which effectively meant the entire world. These collections were called “tithes.”
“If we could avoid paying tithes, it would be a big help for us. What’s more, those funds were originally gathered for the fight against pagans. There’s no reason to collect it anymore since that war is over. We owe it to the king of Winfiel for speaking up.”
Taxes for any reason were always unpopular. There was no reason to speak ill of a king who wished to get rid of one.
“And look at how the pope treats a ruler who makes sense! Boy, I’m really rooting for the king of Winfiel…,” the captain said before suddenly closing his mouth. He seemed to remember that his passenger wished to work as a holy man. “Sorry about that. I don’t mean to speak badly about your aspirations.”
“No,” Col said shortly with a little smile. “I agree with you.”
“Oh?”
He narrowed his eyes—not because of the captain’s puzzled stare, but because of the cool, clear wind that blew from downstream.
“I can’t believe that, in order to force the payment of taxes, the pope ordered the kingdom to suspend all religious practices without consultation.”
His white breath grew even whiter, likely from his anger. This suspension was an order from the pope, which meant all those who served the Church in that area were without work.
“For three years now, there have been no baptisms, no weddings between people who love each other, and no funerals for the cherished deceased in the kingdom. They are all important ceremonies in life that the clergy administer, and the pope has obstructed them all. I cannot see how forcing us to pay taxes to earn God’s good grace is in accordance to the Lord’s will. I am uneducated and powerless, but…”
He gripped the wooden crest of the Church that always hung around his neck and lay against his chest.
“I wish to help in correcting these corrupted teachings of God.”
In order to save the Kingdom of Winfiel from the arrogant pope, who neglected the salvation of souls for three years all because of money—and so he could rectify the divine teachings—Col would have to fight. That was why he left on his journey.
There would be hardships. There would be suffering. But he had learned much thus far, and he had even come to meet Lawrence and his wife Holo, the miraculous pair from a fairy tale. He could do it. There was no doubt.
He wanted to bestow at least a few smiles and some happiness upon this irrational, cruel world.
He stared beyond the river and vowed to himself once again.
God, give me strength and guidance.
He closed his eyes and felt a strong wind, as though an angel was stroking his cheek.
“Haaaah…”
When he heard the captain sigh behind him, he abruptly came back to earth.
Col’s face flushed—he was barely even a priest’s apprentice.
“Er, well, that is what I wish anyhow…”
“Oh, well, I was certain that it was because you were jealous of all the clergymen eating and drinking at the hot springs while you were working in Nyohhira.”
The captain spoke bluntly, but there was truth behind his assumption, too. In order to visit such a remote mountain place, one needed enough funds to travel and a job that could be abandoned for months at a time without trouble. Those with both were mostly retired heads of large companies, nobles whose governance was going smoothly, and high-ranking clergymen.
“Of course, many wish to work in the Church for that reason. It is reprehensible, though…”
“It’s not unusual for a priest to have lots of ‘nieces’ and ‘nephews.’”
Though the captain appeared to be implying something, it was not as if the underlying meaning was his own opinion. It was more like an open secret. Priests were required to stay celibate, so of course, they could not have children without wives. Therefore, they had so-called nieces and nephews instead. Not even the pope was an exception to this—one of his “nieces” had been married off to the Kingdom of Winfiel, so these corrupt practices were growing commonplace.
“I constantly wish for the world to be a more honest, straightforward place. It isn’t, so even the pope throws his weight around for the sake of money,” Col said with a sigh, and the captain responded as though searching for the right words.
“So what? You mean you’ve never laid a single finger on a dancing girl in Nyohhira?” he asked, as though such a thing was impossible. Col merely responded with pride.
“Of course I haven’t.”
“Well, that’s…”
The captain was at a loss.
Col was used to this kind of response. There were very few real priests who upheld their vows of abstinence. The ones who did as they should were monks who lived in remote monasteries, where it was a struggle to even make contact with a woman.
“Even if I wanted to break the vows of asceticism, I don’t think I could,” Col said with a wry smile, and the captain finally smiled, too, though uncomfortably.
Dancers and daughters of musicians did call out to him sometimes, though they were only teasing. And because of that, he most likely could not say that he had ever needed to expend much effort upholding his vows.
“However, I think we should maintain what has been established.”
Col straightened his posture as he spoke.
“Hmm. Yeah,” the captain murmured keenly and again changed the direction of the ship’s bow. “That being said, the world is like a river. You can never go as straight as you like.” He turned around, and the expression on the captain’s face was not smug, nor did it sneer at the ideals of a young man.
It was that of a hermit who had weathered a great many things and tried to play them off calmly.
“But those periodic twists and turns give fish a place to live.”
He must have spent plenty of time lost in thought while working as a ship captain, because his words were actually quite profound. In fact, a famous theologist had reached a similar truth after being surrounded by destruction.
“I think I understand what you mean.”
“Of course, I don’t mean to criticize anyone’s ideals. Especially not one who wants to be a priest. But if you stick to one path the whole time, there’s lots of things you’ll never know. You gain experience because you make detours.”
Col honestly agreed.
Still, he could not see where the captain’s explanation was headed.
“Um…in summary?”
For some reason, the man rubbed his nose awkwardly.
“Mm. Well, you know. I see that the purpose and spirit of your journey are remarkable, but…Well, I didn’t think you’d be so strict about it, so maybe I’ve just been a useless busybody…”
“Huh?”
It happened right after he asked.
“Well, there’s no turning back at this point. You can come out now,” the captain said to the cargo. He was not looking at the pile of furs, but rather the barrels in front of them. And then, bam! The lid of one barrel flew off.
“Whoops.” The captain skillfully caught the lid.
Sticking out from the barrel was a pair of skinny legs shod with rough traveling shoes. Ignoring the captain’s troubled smile, Col could not close his gaping mouth.
“Ooh! Ooooooh!”
There came a groan, and a hand gripped the brim as the barrel shuddered.
Just as it was about to topple over, a single girl popped out from inside.
“Pee-yoooooou!”
“Myuri?!”
The girl springing from the barrel scattered the mountain of furs with a kick and jumped into Col’s chest. She had strangely colored hair, like flecks of silver mixed into ash, and a slender frame. At a little older than ten years, she was still too juvenile to be called a young lady. She was full of enough energy to bowl him over, and the boat rocked back and forth. The only reason it did not tip over was most likely thanks to the captain’s skill.
“Ah, M-Myuri, wh-why—?”
The words, You’re here, and then, You smell burned, were caught in his throat and did not come out.
“Why nothing!”
The girl, Myuri, yelled with all her might, and with tears welling in her eyes, perhaps because of the awful smell in the barrel, she looked down at him.
“Take me with you!”
Tears more heated than the hot springs rolled down her cheeks. But with Myuri’s sudden emergence from the barrel, the undeniable implication that she and the captain had worked together, and that now the boat could not turn back—all these things had to be addressed later. The emotions of the girl in front of him seemed liable to explode at any moment, and her ashen hair was already wiggling.