Spice & Wolf IV by Hasekura Isuna

sit down.
    The village square of Tereo, dimly lit by the lamps hanging on a few of the buildings that faced it, was deserted.
    Though it had been some time since sunset, the ways in which this village differed from a larger town were clear.
    When they reached the inn and opened the door, the front room was illuminated only by a single apologetic candle. The master was not there—which was hardly surprising as he’d been drinking merrily away at the same table as Holo.
    Noticing the return of her guests, the master’s wife came out, taking one look at Holo’s sad state and smiling sympathetically.
    Lawrence asked for some water, then climbed the creaking stairs to their second-story room.
    The inn seemed to have but four rooms in total, and at the moment, Lawrence and Holo were the only guests.
    Despite this, apparently a good number of people came for the spring seed-sowing and autumn harvest festivals.
    The only decoration in the inn was the embroidered cloth crest, which hung in the hall, left behind by a knight that had evidently passed through long ago.
    If Lawrence remembered correctly, the crest—now illuminated by a shaft of moonlight that streamed in through the open window—was the symbol of a mercenary group famous in the northlands of Ploania for killing saints of the Church.
    Lawrence didn’t know if the innkeeper was ignorant of this or if he displayed the crest because of its connotations.
    Looking at the crest made it clear to Lawrence just what the relationship between the Church and the village of Tereo was like.
    “Hey, we’re nearly there. Don’t fall asleep yet!” As they climbed The stairs, Holo’s footing became less and less sure, and by the time they came to the door of their room, she seemed to be at her limit.
    They entered, Lawrence guessing that she would be hungover again tomorrow, and he felt more sympathy than annoyance toward his companion as he managed to lay her down on the bed.
    The room’s window was closed, but a few slivers of moonlight found their way through the cracks. Lawrence opened the battered window and breathed out the hustle and bustle of the day, exchanging it for the solemnly cold winter air.
    Shortly after, there was a knock at the door. He turned to see the innkeeper’s wife enter, bringing water and some fruit he couldn’t immediately identify.
    He asked and she explained that it was good for hangovers—though unfortunately the one most in need of the cure had already fallen fast asleep. It wouldn’t do to refuse her kindness, so he accepted the fruit gratefully.
    The fruits were hard and round. Two fit in the palm of his hand. W hen Lawrence bit into one, the sourness was so intense it made his temples ache.
    The fruits certainly seemed effective. There might even be business to be had with them. He made a mental note to look into such the next day, if there was time.
    Lawrence thought back on the noisy evening at the tavern.
    Holo’s speed at blending into the tavern’s mood was genuinely impressive.
    Of course, he’d explained the goal to her ahead of time, as well as the part he wanted her to play.
    When a pair of travelers stopped in a tavern, generally they had to either endure endless questions from the patrons or be left out of conversation entirely.
    Avoiding these fates took money.
    There was no easy way to obtain coin in a village like this with little in the way of commerce—but unless it was completely isolated, Tereo wouldn’t be able to survive without at least some money.
    This was the main reason travelers were so welcome. Without money, they would have no reason to entertain people whose backgrounds were completely unknown.
    Next, the travelers had to eat and drink heartily.
    They had no way of knowing the quality of food and drink the village tavern had to offer. In the worst case, a traveler could be poisoned, and even if he didn’t die outright, he could be stripped bare and left in the mountains.
    Which meant that eating and