Spring Log II Read online

  “There must be a reason. It’s odd that there’s such a wide-open field, but they haven’t cultivated much of it.”

  All cities surrounded with walls were overcrowded, and there were many who would carry a plow out to fertile land immediately if they had a chance.

  “Perhaps the king here is wicked, and everyone has run off? Perhaps we should flee, too?”

  Holo was still saying such things even after they had come this far.

  “I don’t think that’s impossible, but according to the abbot, the person who took up the seat of the new lord is someone truly worthy of faith. I don’t think he’d do anything cruel.”

  “…Hmph.”

  That being said, when Holo heard he was of good faith, she frowned.

  “I see now. They are the sort to subsist every day of their lives on nothing but roasted beans and water, aye? Even at the table they act as though someone has died—so silent, so gloomy…”

  A good monk was one who aimed to eat simple foods and adhered to the commandment of silence.

  Of course, it was completely incompatible with Holo’s morally lax lifestyle.

  That was likely one reason she had been fussy for the past few days.

  “If that is where we must go, then look, why not that house? There are onions and dried trout hanging from the eaves. There are chickens and pigs in the garden, and the soil in the vegetable plot is an earthy black.”

  Holo pointed to a building that gave the impression it would stay the same for a thousand years, topped by a short and stout straw-thatched roof that looked like a dog had rolled in it. Though they would likely receive scratchy straw beds to sleep on, it was certain that the food would be good. And since the locals could gather the ingredients straight from the fields, there was likely lots of drink as well.

  “But not every monk who lives at an abbey is so straitlaced. Not to mention the kind of monastery that the houses of fine lords would visit, even the ones in poor, remote villages. I don’t think they’d welcome nobles with roasted beans and onions.”

  And there was significance in staying at the house of a lord. That was because once permission to stay had been given, those guests would be allowed to stay again. That was how trust was built.

  Lawrence explained as much, though Holo made a face that looked like she had swallowed a bug.

  “And we’re dealing with a young lord who has suddenly been cast out into the mortal world and is deeply troubled. If we manage this well, then I’m sure we’ll get some help when we open a store.”

  He was aware that he sounded like he was merely considering loss and profits, but of course, he had no intention of letting this young lord deal with any losses.

  If there were even one suspicious merchant hoping to take advantage of a new lord who was ignorant of market prices in the hope of making a quick coin, everyone would be sent away.

  “You…! I have had enough!”

  Holo finally became fed up and said one last thing before curling up in the wagon bed.

  Though Lawrence thought her mood had cheered up considerably, she was still rather irritable from the fatigue of travel.

  However, he felt like she had not been this way until they stopped over at the monastery. There was something odd about it—had she wanted to visit the towns in the west that badly?

  As he wondered why, a large number of people appeared from the house Holo had pointed out.

  At the front stood a short, bald old man, and there was a group of men who seemed to be the villagers. They all wore displeased expressions and were huddled near one another, talking. Among them were those who looked up to the heavens in exaggeration or those who shook their heads strongly.

  Then, they all looked inside the house.

  “Holo.”

  Quietly, Lawrence called her name over his shoulder. Though she was balled up in the back of the wagon, her ears would be able to hear what they were saying. Even Holo knew that if there were quarrels happening in the place they were headed, then it would be best to have a grasp of them.

  “Hmph.”

  However, the only response she gave was a huff from her nose. Surprised that Holo was in such a foul mood, Lawrence turned around, but at the same moment, the people waiting outside the house finally noticed they were there.

  Feeling their eyes on him, he faced forward again, and they were indeed staring at him.

  “Hello.”

  Lawrence greeted them after stopping the wagon an appropriate distance away.

  “I see everyone’s gathered together. Talks about the spring festival, perhaps?”

  He spoke with a smile, as though signaling he was an idiot who had not grasped a single hint of the tension hanging in the air.

  The villagers exchanged glances in hesitation, and the small old man finally looked his way.

  “A traveling merchant, I see. Our village’s festival is in the summer.”

  He showed him a cheerful, insincere smile. It seemed this old man was the village head.

  Lawrence stepped down from the driver’s perch, and several of the villagers looked hard at his horse, and he heard the murmurs of “Good horse.” As Holo was curled up in the bed of the wagon, no one noticed her.

  “Yes, I typically make my rounds on merchant routes more north of here, but I’ve been asked a favor.”

  “A favor?”

  “I’ve heard the ruling lord here is new and has recently taken over. An old acquaintance has asked me to give respects in his stead.”

  The moment he mentioned the lord, the people behind the village head exchanged meaningful glances.

  It seemed that though they should be busy farming during this time of year, they were gathered during the day because of the lord.

  “Oh ho. So you mean the abbey our lord is from?”

  “Yes. By orders of the abbot there.”

  He did not know for what reason the villagers were standing up against the landlord, but for now, he pretended that he did not notice. He supported his story that he had simply come to fulfill his favor with a clueless smile.

  “And so, would you be able to tell me where the lord’s manor is?”

  Unlike city nobles who lived within walls, it was difficult for outsiders to tell where country lords resided. Either way, after Lawrence asked with the intention of learning the way there, the village head glanced back over his shoulder at the people behind him.

  “Well, you have perfect timing,” he said, and the villagers loitering outside the house quickly parted for the entrance. “The landlord just happens to be here in this house on business. I shall mention you.”

  Passing between the villagers, the village head entered the house.

  He returned before long with a person following behind him.

  “This is the merchant.”

  The village head motioned with his hand to the person standing behind him—a large man of towering height, wide shoulders, and deep chest. With power reminiscent of a wild ram, his puffed beard reached all the way down to his chest, and it almost looked as though his upper arms had legs growing out of them. Though his clothes were hemmed with fur as a display of authority, he looked like nothing so much as a bandit leader.

  Of course, there were a number of sturdy monks, and there were many who had old-looking features.

  However, no matter how Lawrence looked at it, the man before him seemed over fifty, and the thickness of his fingers and the shape of his fingernails clearly showed years of labor.

  Was this the lost little lamb who was suddenly called home from the monastery and placed in the seat of landlord that the abbot talked about?

  The man’s eyes moved with a vigor that almost seemed to make a sound, and he peered at Lawrence from above.

  As Lawrence stood, shocked, at a loss for words, the man suddenly turned around and moved to the side.

  “Huh?”

  Then, appearing from behind him was a lady with a neat face, her red hair tied back in a low bun.

  “
Are you the messenger from Ivan Abbey?”

  There was almost no embroidery on her long robe, and though it was simple, he could tell it was beautifully woven linen. The pendant hanging from her neck was a tear-shaped piece of amber.

  More importantly, the large man beside her bowed to her stiffly.

  And so, though the answer was obvious, it was all so sudden that the words inside Lawrence’s head did not quite string together.

  “Is something the matter?”

  Her question snapped him back to reality. This person was the landlord.

  Typically, it was the eldest son who inherited the family estate, but if there was no one else, then such situations were possible. And then Lawrence finally remembered—as it was a monastery he had been dealing with for a long time, it had completely slipped his mind. As earthly persons could not enter the building proper, he and the abbot always held their conversations outside, so he never quite registered it in his mind, but the proper name for the place was:

  The Saint Isiodorus Brotherhood Ivan Girls Abbey.

  A family sending off their daughter to a monastery was a means of keeping their inheritance rights from leaving their control and a way for noble families who could not prepare dowries to rid themselves of a nuisance.

  Since the lady had suddenly been brought home, it would be normal for the abbot to be worried sick that not only did she not know what was what, but also that she might be in some sort of deep trouble.

  And then Lawrence finally understood why Holo had been in such a bad mood since leaving the monastery.

  “Oh no, my apologies.”

  Lawrence stood up straight and retrieved the abbot’s letter from his chest pocket.

  “This is from the abbot.”

  The lady—perhaps it was even possible to call her a girl—moved to accept the paper. It was clear that she did not know how to act as a lady as she moved to take it directly from his hands.

  Her slender fingers, which looked as though they would redden from simply peeling kidney beans from their pods, extended toward the letter, but thick hands that could probably break rocks obstructed her. The girl seemed surprised, but Lawrence was not. Those of high status did not take things directly from strangers of humble birth.

  “Th-thank…you.”

  She took the letter from the big man, who would more appropriately be called an attendant than a manservant in all likelihood. Then she donned a vague expression of thanks that made it unclear whether she intended it for Lawrence or the towering figure.

  However, since she had been in an abbey, there was no hesitation in her hands as she opened the letter, and she read quickly. The abbot must have written something nice as a smile slowly spread across her face with an innocence that gave him the impression of reading the scripture in a sunny garden.

  The abbot was a man who had been so stingy with his prices that most town merchants had given up doing business with him. It got to the point where he had to trust the delivery of the abbey’s goods to a traveling merchant who would work for the slightest of profits. But even so, he was still the kind to be worried and concerned.

  Lawrence looked at the neat features and brown eyes of this young lady and quietly held his breath.

  Holo had been angry about this the entire time.

  Since it was a women’s abbey, he should have noticed right away that it was a young girl who returned home. If anything, it would have been odd if she were not angry when she saw how motivated he was to come see her.

  He had sat and trampled on her tail without even noticing.

  He glanced back at Holo, who was pretending to be cargo on the wagon bed, and when he thought about what they were going to do afterward, his heart sank.

  “Mr.…Lawrence?”

  The sound of his name suddenly returned him to reality.

  “Yes.”

  It seemed the young landlady had found his name in the letter.

  “I am Kraft Lawrence. I am a traveling merchant. I have known the abbot for a long time.”

  “Which means you are the one to thank for such delicious bread at the abbey.”

  She spoke kindly and a soft smile appeared on her face. The large man beside her did not even blink, and Lawrence was painfully aware of how he stared, the sharp gaze overpowering him.

  The girl, however, was an innocent youth who had come straight from an abbey.

  “What makes bread delicious are the hands of a baker and the blessings of God.”

  He responded modestly, and the young lady chuckled.

  “That may be true, but the letter says that you have a traveling companion.”

  He could see her young eyes looking nervously at the cart, and he almost wanted to laugh.

  “Please forgive her rudeness, but she is lying down in the back of the wagon. It seems the long journey has taken its toll.”

  “Oh, well then.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, and she began quickly folding the letter.

  “Now, please come to the house.”

  Her expression was so serious it almost made him regret telling that lie.

  “But it seemed you were in the middle of something important, my lady.”

  After Lawrence spoke, the redheaded girl hurriedly looked around her, but her expression suddenly changed to show a sad smile.

  “No…We’re done for now.”

  When she said that, out of the corner of his eye, he could see several villagers drop their shoulders in defeat. The young ruler handed the folded letter to the large man, excused herself, and stood before the village head, who was watching over the exchange.

  “Let us continue discussing this at a later date.”

  “As you wish.”

  The village head respectfully bowed his head, but the gesture felt cold.

  It was uncertain if the landlady had noticed, but she prompted Lawrence to follow her and walked off. It seemed she would be returning to the house on foot. Perhaps she had never learned how to ride horses. Lawrence jumped onto the driver’s perch, gripped the reins, and followed the large man, who walked perfectly behind her and slightly to the side. Lawrence turned around, and he saw that the villagers seemed thoroughly defeated as they reentered the village head’s house. The village head saw Lawrence and the others off for a while before finally going inside himself.

  What could they have possibly been arguing about?

  As he wondered what was going on, he faced forward again, only to see the girl had turned around to stare at him while she walked ahead.

  “Do you want to know?” she asked with a troubled smile.

  Lawrence hesitated for a moment but then decided to go with it.

  “The abbot instructed me to help you, my lady.”

  The same should have been written in the letter.

  The girl he called “my lady” stopped walking, the troubled smile still on her face.

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “Then what am I to call you?”

  With a short cry of surprise, the girl placed her hand over her mouth.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself yet.”

  She cleared her throat, placed her hand on her chest, and spoke.

  “I am Amalie Draustem-Hadish, the seventh lord of this land.” And in a quiet, embarrassed voice, she added, “I still can’t believe it, though.”

  Since Amalie had been put into the abbey, which meant the previous lord had had a proper male heir to inherit, there must have been some sort of accident that had resulted in the simultaneous loss of both the previous lord and his son.

  It was not because Amalie was a resilient girl that she seemed unfazed by their loss. It was likely the truth that she had been left in the abbey for as long as she could remember.

  “Then, Lady Draustem?”

  “They called me Amalie at the abbey.”

  It seemed she was not fond of her grandiose family name.

  But when he glanced at the large man, just to make sure if it was
all right to call a landlady by her first name, the response was a look of resignation. It seemed there had already been an argument between this taciturn vassal and Amalie.

  “Then, Lady Amalie.”

  “Lady is too formal…”

  “Lady Amalie.”

  The large man spoke for the first time since Lawrence had arrived, drawing Amalie’s gaze toward him. Apparently this was the point of compromise between them. She nodded reluctantly.

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “No, the pleasure is all mine.”

  Lawrence dipped his head reverently.

  “So the abbot has instructed me to be your pen in this world, Lady Amalie.”

  Her sword was that large man.

  Amalie began walking again and gave a clear sigh.

  “Ha…Well, it’s quite the regrettable story.”

  She broached the subject, and as they made their way to the house, she told Lawrence about the dispute, which was roundabout, and though it had not quite yet reached a conclusion, it ended up being rather simple.

  The Draustem family estate was less of a manor and more of a luxurious farmhouse.

  Lord was not much more than a title for those who only governed poor villages, since they, too, had to work diligently in the fields for a living. The Draustem family had a stable and a sheepfold, and they kept some fish in a small pond, while chickens and pigs nibbled at grass in the courtyard. The large man was likely the one taking care of all this.

  As simple as it was, the estate was very well taken care of and it appeared a comfortable place to live.

  Had this been a fort or small castle built on a hill, then the landlord, his family, and their servants would have been crammed together into very tight quarters. The number of people who could live comfortably as lords was overwhelmingly small.

  When they arrived at the house, the large man named Yergin, who was Amalie’s vassal, prepared the guest room.

  It also seemed that he and Amalie had not eaten anything for lunch yet, so while they were preparing that, they offered Lawrence and Holo a chance to take a rest.

  They were led to a room common for the countryside, with a dirt floor and exposed roof beams, but it was clean, and the straw in the bed was fresh. For Lawrence’s body, which was used to the hard wagon bed, it was enough to feel luxurious.