Spice & Wolf XI (DWT) Page 7

  He didn’t even have to insist on going to the meadows or risk his pride. Indeed, she might have been the one to act rashly. But she was the one who saw where things were headed, so she was the victor.

  “It’s my loss.”

  “Of course.”

  She shifted slightly, her ears twitched, and she yawned.

  “So.. now that you know my preference, will you not find some topic to indulge it?”

  She begged him like a child, despite holding the reins. But he knew perfectly well that he couldn’t resent her for it just because he felt miserable about his defeat. And so, with no other choice, he began listing their dinner options.

  He began with their usual supplies; dried fruit and bland bread. If they spent some time in the forest, they could perhaps even catch a quail or rabbit. He chuckled when her ears flipped up at the mention of this.

  Sure enough, as he continued chattering away about this and that inane topic, he eventually heard her breathing soundly in slumber. It stood to reason that she would be tired after fooling around with him like this, and it made him wonder how long it would be before he could give as good as he got.

  Being on the meadow might have been warmer than being under the blankets, but it didn’t matter when the two of them were under it. Especially since Holo’s body was warmer than usual, like a child’s.

  He watched her sleep, in awe of her unguarded appearance. It didn’t even look like she would wake up if he pinched her nose or ran his finger along the fuzz inside her ear. And seeing the peaceful look on her face made him want to, after having been made the fool.

  And, as if God had heard his plea, she suddenly lost her balance. As he reached out to support her, he took the chance to sneak in a counter-attack and wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders, as if to emphasize that he was her protector. Then, as he prepared to close his own eyes..

  “You pass.”

  He felt his body stiffen at her soft utterance. So this was where she wanted the conversation to end. She looked up at him with a devilish smile, her fangs glimmering under her lips.

  “One simply has to lay their trap at the pool of water accumulated under the waterfall..”

  All he could do to keep the conversation flowing was complete her sentence.

  “And all the stupid fish will fall right in.”

  She giggled and nodded merrily. He could only look up at the sky, utterly defeated to the point where it was too much to bear. He clamped the arm around her shoulders gently around her neck, and her tail began wagging happily.

  Damn it.. why was he so stupid? So pathetically stupid? A detour like this was business suicide for a merchant; he’d lost the moment he decided to take it. He shoved his head into the noose himself, not even thinking about who held the rope. And who else could it be?

  His head flopped over onto hers, his energy drained completely. It was his way of saying that this was where their conversation ended.

  Black Wolf’s Cradle

  She could finally take a breather after she unloaded the hay. There was still snow lying around here and there, but Fleur was sweating profusely in the spring sunlight, being unaccustomed to physical labor.

  “The hay’s excellent this year. Our animals should be well-fed.”

  Such was the casual appraisal given by the man from Jones company as they bundled it up. Fleur brushed the hay off her clothes and beamed a wide smile as she spoke with the man, who was old enough to be her father.

  “And since they’re well-fed, they’ll be nice and plump come winter.”

  “That’s right. So this is all of it? Can I take the whole lot?”

  “For how much?”

  The man scratched his chin with his pencil, then remembered the payment. He counted the bundles of hay again and took his time to reply.

  “17 Likit.”

  “The market rate’s 20.”

  At that, the man just twirled his pen between his fingers. It was the kind of gesture that a merchant unconsciously made when facing an inferior opponent.

  “You should have gone higher. 25.”

  “Ora?!”

  Fleur spun around to face the old merchant butting into the conversation. Her opponent scratched his temple with the pen, then smiled and tilted his head.

  “Alright. Since you’re so honest, we’ll make it 20.”

  “Only if you include the rental fee for the wagon.”

  What little hair remained on Ora’s head was silvery, due to treating it with egg whites every day. He faced down their not-so-young opponent as though staring down at a boy.

  “Of course. And the information fee too.”

  “God go with you.”

  Fleur said nothing as she replayed the conversation in her head. She had nothing better to do while she waited for Ora to unload the hay from their wagon.

  “Let’s go.”

  That’s all he said as he walked away, having returned their wagon and cleared their account balance. He had a strong build, and was able to walk quickly even while he carried so much on his back. The loading zone around the port was crowded, but he wove through that crowd quickly, like some sort of magician.

  Fleur was still unaccustomed to wearing a face-scarf to conceal her gender, so she had a tough time walking in a straight line. She managed to finally catch up to him when they entered an alley where they had to move in single file.

  Children were crying above and mice squealed as they scrambled to avoid their feet. Cats were heard calling out from windows. Not long ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed she’d ever end up in a place like this. But she knew people had no choice but to adapt to their circumstances.

  She tickled a cat’s throat as she passed the sleeping feline beside a flowerpot on a windowsill. Living a normal life really didn’t seem that bad.

  “Milady.”

  His angry tone startled the cat and it hopped off the windowsill inside its home. She shot him an accusing glare, but was met with a one that was far more intimidating.

  “Are you reflecting on your error?”

  Oddly enough, Fleur smiled in the face of blame from older and more experienced people. It wasn’t because she was brave or crazy; it just reminded her of the times she drove her teacher crazy when she was younger.

  “Oh, yes, sorry. I am.”

  Of course, she hadn’t been doing anything of the sort after Ora took over the bargaining.

  “You know, I was hoping you’d appreciate that I didn’t get angry with that guy for trying to cut below the market rate. But I guess you’re just in a bad mood today.”

  “Milady.”

  Ora frowned at her joke. His eyebrows almost crept up onto his dome-like head. His face was like a stone statue when he bargained, but outside of business it took on many different forms. It commanded respect.

  “Don’t get angry.. and didn’t I tell you not to call me ’Milady?”’

  “Then please try to behave like a merchant.”

  He stood up so tall that she had little choice but to avert her eyes. She was always “behaving like a merchant.” After all, she wasn’t a noble anymore, no longer Fleur von Eiterzentel Mariel Boland, the eleventh heiress to the Boland family name. Though she was, in fact, starting to miss that ridiculously long title.

  “Of course I act like one. I transport enough herring for my hands to smell like them. And I return with a wagon full of hay.”

  “Wonderful. With that I’m sure no one will even realize how terrified you are of riding horseback.”

  He wasn’t joking around. He was clearly quite angry, and she knew why. But his strictness made it obvious that he was trying to underscore his point.

  “12 Likit to buy the herring. 4 for tariffs. A half for wheat bread, dried lamb, pickled pork, cheese and wine. 2 for the horse and wagon rental. So where does that leave you?”

  Fleur sighed behind her scarf at his challenge. They had spent 18 and a half Likit on this load. Had they accepted the Jones Company’s offer of 17, they’d be in the
red.

  Nobles were used to taking the game of give and take lightly, but not merchants. When they gave something, they charged a higher price in return. It was the only way to avoid going hungry.

  “You know I wasn’t going to accept 17.”

  “Were you now?”

  He just walked away without so much as glancing at her. His attitude was getting to her.

  “Are you implying that I’m just some coward who won’t dare to argue a little?!”

  Hearing that, he turned around.

  “No, but even if you stubbornly say that 20 is the market value, you can’t prove it. And not just that. In business there’s nothing worse than an endless debate. So we merchants always knowingly pick numbers that’ll end up at a healthy compromise.”

  “That’s why you asked for 25?”

  He nodded, but it was such a lazy nod that it was obvious he was too tired to discuss the matter any further.

  What he said was common sense among merchants, of course. He’d practically been a merchant since the day he was born, having even managed the accounts of large companies.

  He called her “Milady” because his former master was the chief merchant of the Boland family, so he could freely enter and leave their homes as he wished.

  However, that master died just as Fleur reached marriageable age, and shortly thereafter the declining Boland family finally collapsed. Thus, they lost their ties with the company Ora worked for.

  Fleur didn’t see Ora again until his new master became her husband. That wasn’t so long ago, but the memories were starting to fade.

  “Well, Milady? How much did you buy that hay for?”

  She didn’t have time to think about an answer. It seemed her situation was always changing before she could catch her breath. Her fallen family title had been bought by a rich merchant, and now that rich merchant was going bankrupt.

  Was he really asking how much she bought the hay for? She was amazed; she couldn’t believe he’d bother her over something like this. It was just too funny.

  “Two.”

  However, she had been raised to mask her true feelings in social situations. So she answered him matter-of-factly, upon which all emotion was wiped from Ora’s face. He raised both his hands exaggeratedly and sped up - he seemed beyond angry now.

  After all, he was the one paying the loans for them to transport herring and hay between villages. And if they were already paying over 18 for herring, then even the 20 she’d asked for wasn’t enough. She was well aware of that, but still had her reasons. When she’d finally caught up with the wrathful speed-walker, she explained.

  “The villagers had it hard. Even their sickles were rusty. They complained that they couldn’t survive if they couldn’t get at least two.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  She got back that cold reply - certainly not the kind of response she’d get from a regular person. But even if her family had fallen, she was still nobility, so she angrily shot back at him.

  “You think I’m lying?!”

  Ora halted for a moment, but didn’t respond to her. Then he began walking even faster. It was obvious who was wrong here. Fleur wasn’t some noble who hired him, she was just a normal person trying to learn his trade. So she ran up that narrow alley and caught up to him again.

  “I’m sorry, Ora.. But I get so angry when you call me ’Milady.”’

  He finally stopped, and she turned back to discover a bitter smile on his face.

  “You need to learn how to make better excuses if you want to become a real merchant.”

  She shrugged and took some of the bags off his back. As they left the alley, she finally caught sight of their home. It was in an area filled with similar houses.

  * * *

  “Then, milady, you lost in the end, after all that hard work?”

  Beltra, the maid, was an honest sort. She always spoke her mind.

  “I did not.”

  “Then what actually happened?”

  Beltra wasn’t just shorter than Fleur, she was also a year younger. Her background was also entirely different. However, Fleur could only defer to her when it came to managing the affairs of the household.

  Without money they couldn’t even afford bread. In the past, she could still depend on the fame and fortune of her family as a noble. But those comforts were beyond her reach now. Fleur pulled off her scarf and coat and turned to leave.

  “Milady, I don’t know much, but I know what Ora said.”

  “Don’t call me ’milady!”’

  “Milady, wait!”

  Fleur ignored Beltra and ran into the next room. She heard the maid sigh, but continued through that room and into the corridor. After passing the bathroom she ran up to the second floor.

  She could see the garden that Beltra carefully tended through the wooden windows along the staircase. It was the garden that supplied them with vegetables, spices and herbs. Sometimes it even produced enough for them to sell a bit in the market for some meat.

  By comparison, what did Fleur have to offer the household? She knew it wasn’t much. She couldn’t blame Beltra for losing her temper. Even a child could add numbers, but she couldn’t drive the price of hay below two Likit. She realized she wasn’t cut out to be a merchant. She just couldn’t be that hard on the people who were once her family’s charges.

  “’Milady.”’

  She heard a knock on her door and Ora’s voice. In the past, when she rose to open a door - no matter how decrepit is was - it was twenty steps away from her desk. These days she only had to walk three.

  “Don’t call me ’milady.”’

  Behind the door was a stone-faced Ora.

  “Beltra was in tears. She said you weren’t listening to her.”

  “..”

  “Merciless” would be a fine choice of words right now. Ora could read people better than Fleur could. He claimed it was a vital skill for trade, but it seemed just as useful for education.

  It was tough to chastize people and make them feel genuinely bad about it, but he knew using Beltra was the best way to do that. Fleur nodded in surrender, before nodding even harder and breathing in deeply.

  “Alright, alright..”

  “Well?”

  “I’ll go apologize to Beltra, and be sure to listen to her well.”

  “..”

  “..And I’ll finish dinner.”

  Ora smiled, and closed the door as he said “please just rest.” Despite sighing, she soon smiled after sitting down in her shoddy chair. Everything they had was confiscated, and all of their privileges were auctioned off. All the servants were gone. She was now living in housing meant for servants and low-ranking city officials. She was practically living in poverty. Forget feeding horses, she wasn’t even lucky enough to feed pigs for her own meat.

  It was a pretty typical bad end for a noble, but she didn’t feel too bad about it. It was just that common sense for merchants was so different from common sense for nobles. At times she would be infuriated, but even then she still tried her best to adjust.

  The only reason she could live even this comfortably was because Ora took her under his wing and Beltra - her closest servant - stayed behind to take care of her. They were the ones that made her realize that she hadn’t lost everyone she could call family, and that not everyone in the world had become her enemy.

  That was enough to keep her going, but she was well aware that they needed money to survive. They couldn’t afford to make mistakes like this in business.

  “I’m a merchant..”

  She tried to encourage herself, then made her way back downstairs to apologize to Beltra.

  * * *

  The following afternoon, after Fleur had choked down the wheat porridge she was finally getting used to, Ora spoke with her.

  “If the hay is that good, then we should deal in horses.”

  “Horses?”

  “I’ve heard that war broke out on the far end of the southern sea. If that’s true, the
n prices for horses should be going up tremendously - as though they had wings.”

  Fleur never underestimated Ora’s ability to collect information, but she did like to challenge him and regard him with a bit of suspicion.

  “If it’s that certain, then surely someone’s already beaten us to it, though?”

  “Ah, but we needn’t be the first. If the profit’s that good we can be the second or third.”

  As she spoke, Ora picked off the mold on the bread Fleur was eating. Fleur had frowned the first time she had to eat moldy bread, but after a while she got used to it. When she lived in the manor, she never realized that all of the servants in the kitchen had to settle for moldy bread. It moved her heart to hear that, but now she was doing the same.

  “Deal in horses, huh?”

  Horses were a luxury, and not very cost-effective to raise. Back when the Boland family name was reputable, they still had some property and thus still had some income - and it was mostly from the tariffs farmers paid to collect hay on their property. If the demand for hay was enough to drive prices up, some of those farmers wouldn’t even be able to feed their horses now.

  “I’ll check with the companies when I go collect payment for the hay.”

  Fleur replied while dipping the bread Ora had de-molded into some porridge.

  “Please don’t let them drive the prices down.”

  Fleur smiled upon hearing that. She turned away, but not because of his comment.

  “Not again.. I wonder how it’s getting in?”

  Beltra noticed what Fleur had spotted and spoke, before heaving herself up from the chair. A dog was sitting quietly next to the bathroom door leading to the kitchen.. well, it was more a pup, really.

  “Did it nibble into the sacks of wheat again?”

  There were a lot of strays in town, but they never realized it before, having lived in their large manor surrounded by forests and plains. Beltra considered them pests, but Fleur felt differently.

  “Come here.”

  The dog had jumped up to run away as Beltra approached it, but when it spotted Fleur’s outstretched hand with bits of bread in it, it ran between Beltra’s legs to Fleur.