The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 103
Chapter 103: The fat aristocrat seeks tools
“Oh?”
Gran Golt, a dwarf who runs the Gran Workshop, which handles all kinds of weapons, looked back at his apprentice, the young boy Jack.
His sharp gaze with furrowed eyebrows seemed to glare unhappily, but that was just Gran’s habit. His eyesight had deteriorated because he constantly looked at the blazing furnace all year.
Jack, who knew this, was no longer afraid of Gran’s gaze or response. Although he had a difficult personality, Jack respected Gran as a blacksmith.
However, it was clear that he wasn’t suited for blacksmithing. Although he had become an apprentice because he wanted to forge swords, he had gradually been placed in charge of handling clients before handling ironwork.
While it was pleasing to be trusted, there were times when Jack felt a little disheartened, especially when he had to relay unusual requests from clients to Gran.
Dwarves who worked with iron had much more pride than humans might imagine. They would never do a job they were not satisfied with. They might even focus their efforts on a single short sword, ignoring complaints from clients as impatient as charcoal bundles waiting to be burned in the furnace, regardless of the time and money spent.
Jack was hesitant as he relayed the client’s request one more time.
“Ah?”
The response was the same as before. Jack frowned and felt like crying.
It was all because of that client. Smooth skin, glossy hair, and a plump physique. Although his clothes were the same as those of ordinary townsmen, his upbringing was undoubtedly affluent. Among the regulars, this client stood out as a newcomer who used a thrusting sword, a rarity for adventurers.
Despite initially assuming that the wealthy youth was exploring the labyrinth as a hobby, Jack realized that the sword he brought in regularly for sharpening and maintenance was clearly well-used. Jack enjoyed working on these “used swords” to make them shine once again.
But what does that matter now? The client had requested something entirely different, asking for a tool that Jack could not even comprehend. He insisted that it was necessary.
Despite knowing that Gran would definitely refuse, Jack gave in to the strong push and agreed to just talk.
“I said we didn’t do that kind of thing; I’m sorry.”
Jack made an excuse while meeting Gran’s eyes directly.
“It’s not a weapon, so we can’t make it even if you ask us.”
He laughed, but Gran didn’t laugh at all.
“We can’t make something we can’t make.”
“Y-Yes. That’s right—I remember now.”
“What is he going to do with it?”
Jack tilted his head in surprise. Was there something that caught Gran’s interest?
Half-jokingly, he told Gran about the funny joke he heard there a while ago.
“Whatever it is, it catches lightning.”
“Oh, really?”
Gran raised an eyebrow. It was the first time in months that he showed even a slight impressed look.
“Lightning, huh. That’s good.”
It had been years since Gran praised something out loud.
He was drawn to the word “lightning.” Memories flooded back suddenly, like a blast of air blowing into a smoldering fire, even though he had not thought of them until now.
In the village where Gran lived, there was an old woman known as a shaman. She wasn’t a dwarf, elf, human, or beastman… yet, even though Gran was a child, she was already an old woman, and she remained that way when he became a young man and left the village.
Living in a shabby house on the outskirts of the village, the old woman was entrusted with everything from healing diseases with animal blood and herbs to divining the weather. Although she was feared and seen as eerie, the people of the village relied on her.
Once a year, the village holds a festival. Marriages and funerals were held there, and the old woman always spoke of the spirits.
The shaman, with a giant bonfire at her back, was bent over to the ground and had lost her front teeth. Her left eyelid was closed, while her right eye looked down on Gran and the others with intelligent light. She was wiser than anyone in the village, and when difficult decisions were made, the village chief always relied on her advice.
On that day, at Gran’s sister’s wedding, the shaman talked about lightning.
“I obtained this incredible power because I was “blessed by lightning.” Those who survive after being struck by lightning receive the blessing of the “Thunderbird,” which takes the form of a giant eagle and is a spirit of lightning and thunder.”
The old woman was once struck by lightning and, in the blinding light, saw the image of an eagle. The eagle perched on her shoulder and pecked her left eye before flying away.
When she woke up, the old woman had lost the sight in her left eye but gained the ability to see a world overflowing with light and leading to a bright future.
Even without teeth, her voice was clear and resounding, her black shadow swaying with the fire on her back, making it difficult to understand her raspy, high-pitched voice. Thunder echoed in the distant mountains.
A strange feeling struck Gran’s chest, as if he were being told about one of the world’s mysteries.
Since that time, he has made a point of going out to the hill whenever a storm is about to develop. Gran didn’t even stop when his father hit him. But in the end, the blessing of lightning was not meant for him.
When Gran regained consciousness from his memories, he covered his forge tools with a cloth and stood up.
“Lightning, huh? That’s good.”
He muttered quietly and headed toward the front of the shop.
“What, huh? Are you accepting it?!”
Jack screamed in confusion and shock. It certainly seemed crazy. Jack couldn’t understand why Gran, who was so serious and stubborn, had taken an interest in it.
???
?
She doesn’t like the name Meln. The “me” in the pronunciation, which bounces off her lips, has no humility. Meln thinks it’s completely opposite of her personality.
The name “Meln Workshop” was originally given to her by her grandmother. She opened the shop when Meln was born, and gave it the name with the excess cuteness of her granddaughter. It can be said that it has been predetermined for Meln to take over the shop with her name on it since she was born.
Fortunately, Meln had talent. Being modest, patient, and understanding that endurance, patience, and silence were virtues, Meln struggled to make armor, dealing with pushy and stubborn adventurers.
Labyrinths had deeply affected Meln’s life. Labyrinths were gold mines filled with wealth and fame. Farmers who were struggling to make ends meet, poor families, and young people dreaming of making a fortune gathered from all over and challenged the labyrinths, with many losing their lives with the armor that Meln had made.
Meln was not one to give up easily.
So, Meln continued to make armor. Seeking better leather, more refined patterns, and even better quality needles and thread, Meln would stay up all night making, fixing, and creating. Meln believed that this job was about protecting the lives and future of adventurers.
The adventurers were all idiots. However, there were those who learned and grasped something within the labyrinth.
Meln did not have the concept of choosing one’s own life. The way to live was prepared for her from birth. It was the same for everyone around her. The butcher’s son would carve meat, and the hat maker’s daughter would learn to make hats. That was what life was. To deviate from that path, one had to become an adventurer and explore the unknown.
Before she knew it, the time had passed.
The young and beautiful girl who blushed at the slightest compliment, Meln, had become an old woman with wisdom and discernment.
Adventurers were no longer as rough and reckless as before. The reckless ones, who charged forward alone and risked their lives, had disappeared. They now go to the labyrinth as a group, prioritizing safety and efficiency, treating it as a job to earn money.
Meln’s armor had a good reputation. Adventurers are delighted with the quality of the thread she uses and continue to buy it. Sometimes, when they return the armor for maintenance, there are a few scratches or traces of oil.
Meln thinks it’s a good thing.
Not getting hurt during exploration is the best thing.
However, if nobody minds and the gods and spirits turn a blind eye—she sighed—it would be an uneventful thing.
Adventurers who burned with life and challenged everything have become increasingly scarce.
Meln felt a nostalgic yearning for the days when she poured her satisfaction and burning passion into needles while looking at the armor that had returned, ridden with wounds.
“What a foolish thing—I picked up a nasty trade in my old age.”
Meln sniffled and set down the needle to check the quality of the stitched leather. A set of leather armor was being assembled on the workbench. It was a good job, but…
“——Ah, how boring.”
As she muttered her true feelings, Meln felt a rush of exhaustion.
Was this old age? She took off her reading glasses and pinched her eyes. She was no longer young. That simple fact clung to her body as a palpable realization.
When she sighed to take a break and close the store for the day…
The door of the shop opened, and a familiar voice that had become accustomed to hearing recently could be heard. A nonchalant attitude, clearly a nobleman’s son, yet a boy who’s been lurking in the labyrinth for some reason.
When the boy spotted Meln, he pointed his strange tool at her and started making demands.
“Hey, what are you doing?! Why are you so noisy?!”
‘Another incomprehensible request has come—oh, how exhausting it is!’ Meln wished to take a little break.
Meln tries to understand the boy’s request and asks him questions.
“Huh? What? You want to catch lightning? Are you sure you’re sane? You want to defeat a monster that uses lightning in the labyrinth? If that’s the case, we have suitable materials.”
‘Young people are always like this, aren’t they? They only think about what they want to do without considering how to make it happen in reality. They face strong enemies because they try to do things beyond their abilities. Repairing the Gauntlet last time became a bit of a job, and I had to prepare a special hardener after a long time…’
Meln’s spine stiffened without her realizing it. The tone of voice was rough, yet somewhere deep inside, there was fervor.