The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: The fat aristocrat goes out for repairs

The day after descending into the labyrinth is designated as a rest day. You can take one, two, or even three days off, but doing so will decrease your income.

Mitrof slept until the afternoon and then went to the commercial district after finishing lunch at a food stall.

Though he was covered in long-sleeved clothing, he had cuts and wounds here and there. For shallow ones, he only applied ointment, while deep ones were covered in bandages.

He continued to explore even after parting ways with Apélie Tiff. While he had learned how to deal with swordhorned rabbits, the tension of it all still wore him down mentally.

Waiting with his back against the wall and dodging a flying swordhorned rabbit is a simple enough action. However, there is a note saying that you must not fear the swords that fly at an incredible speed.

The tension of dodging the swordhorned rabbits and the small cuts gradually increased with the smallblade rabbits.

Mitrof was the only one wearing down, while Canule remained steady with her round shield. Though Canule still had room to spare, she was considerate of Mitrof’s physical condition, and they continued to cut short their exploration of the labyrinth.

The income is not bad at all.

It seems that the ears of the swordhorned rabbits are widely used as blades, and therefore have a high buying price. Similarly, the ears of the smallblade rabbits are known to be turned into razors. The adventurer’s items that Mitrof and his companions risked their lives to obtain, now form part of the daily livelihoods of those living in the city.

‘But I can’t stay covered in blood forever.’

Mitrof asked the receptionist how other adventurers dealt with those rabbits.

“Well, everyone tends to buy shields.”

The nonchalant response was unsurprising, and Mitrof agreed fully. Shields were the answer. If it’s difficult to dodge, then simply block. Even children could understand this.

In the commercial district, there was a street lined with shops that sold weapons and armor in a quieter, more secluded area. Only adventurers came here, yet the street was bustling like a market.

However, the shoppers were not the city’s breadwinners, and the noise of haggling voices was rough and rowdy, bordering on shouting matches.

Beyond the ruckus, there was the Meln Workshop. This was where Mitrof had purchased his gauntlets.

Upon entering the shop, there was no one there. Although the shopkeeper’s skills were undoubtedly excellent, her habits were strong. She was an old woman who would reject customers she didn’t like.

Only sunlight shining through the window illuminated the dimly lit shop, scented with tanned leather and maintenance oil.

As Mitrof searched for the old woman, he found a door leading to a small room at the back of the shop that seemed to be used for work. A hunched old woman sat on a tall, round chair, working a knife into thick leather.

“Owner, there’s a customer.”

“Hmm?”

The old woman raised her head when Mitrof called out to her, and peered at him menacingly through the glasses perched on her prominent nose.

“What, it’s you again—you still look like an orc.”

Mitrof chuckled at her usual sharp-tongued insult.

It was strange even to himself that he didn’t feel angry when she insulted him.

“I’ve lost some weight, though—just a little.”

“I’ve never seen a skinny swordsman like you—lose more weight.”

As she spoke, the old woman beckoned him with a crooked finger.

Mitrof enters the workshop. It was the old woman’s castle as a craftsman. The small room was organized in a way that only she could understand.

Shelves covering the walls, worn-out tools, scratches, and stains on a large desk… The old woman must have been doing this job long before Mitrof was born.

Before the thickness of the years that filled the room, Mitrof felt a feeling similar to reverence. It was the same feeling as when one is in front of a magnificent work of craft or art that transcends time.

“What are you daydreaming about?—Hurry up and give me what you’re holding!”

Snap! The old woman scolded him, and Mitrof straightened his back.

Yes, Mitrof suddenly realized. When scolded by this old woman, he would remember his childhood tutor, who taught him how to act like a nobleman. Although Mitrof had many tutors, the one who disciplined him in noble behavior was somewhat similar to this old woman. She was strict but also fair.

Mitrof placed the gauntlets, wrapped in cloth, on the desk. He came to the Meln Workshop to ask for a repair on the gauntlets.

The old woman set aside the chisel and hammer she had in her hand and opened the package.

She snorted and inspected the gauntlet while twirling it in her hand.

Mitrof’s estimate was that it was in terrible condition, to put it modestly.

The gauntlet, which was made by overlaying thick leather scales, would have needed just a little oil for minor scratches. However, now there were several cuts and peeled and gouged wounds.

“These are the wounds of smallblade rabbits and swordhorned rabbits—did you descend to the 10th floor?”

“Yeah…are you not angry?”

“Angry?—Why should I be angry?”

“Well, I greatly damaged your work.”

For the first time, the old woman smiled at the hesitant answer from Mitrof.

After clearing her throat with a chuckle, the old woman gave Mitrof a slightly softer look.

“Did you worry about that?—Instead of making a face like a naughty child, stand up straight and be proud! You are an adventurer!—Just bring it in with confidence.”

“Um, well…but it’s armor that was made with great care—I don’t feel good seeing it all beaten up like this, you know?”

“Well, I guess artists would care about that, but I’m a craftsman—armor that’s all beaten up?—That’s not bad at all!—It means it protected the owner well—actually, I’m happy about it!”

The old woman spoke truthfully and lovingly stroked the battered gauntlet.

“It’s still beautiful besides the scratches—you take good care of it.”

“Yeah. The owner told me to. I made sure to take care of it after returning from the labyrinth.”

The old woman slapped Mitrof’s arm with a “paan!”

“Ouch! Why’d you hit me?!”

“I gave you a compliment!—Take it!”

“Isn’t there a nicer way to give compliments?!”

Ignoring Mitrof’s response, the old woman lost interest and took a small magnifying glass out of her tool kit, carefully examining the gauntlet’s scratches.

“Well, well… I suppose it’s true that the wound from the smallblades are shallow… but it seems the swordhorned rabbits managed to strip off the outer layer… the cut isn’t straight either…”

At that moment, the old woman suddenly looked up and glared at Mitrof.

“You’re not planning to stop a swordhorned rabbit with this gauntlet, are you?”

“Of course not!”

“Even with multiple layers of leather, it’s still just a wrist guard—If you try to stop a swordhorned rabbit head-on, its horn will pierce right through and into your arm. Don’t even think about it.”

“I wouldn’t do it even if you didn’t tell me—I don’t want to die.”

The thought of the swordhorn rabbit’s horn piercing through his arm made Mitrof shudder. His left arm was essential to him.

“Can you afford it?”

“I won’t complain.”

“The repair costs aren’t that high—It’s just a matter of replacing the useless leather boards but if you’re going to take your time getting to the 10th floor, how many times do you think you’ll need to repair it again?”

Mitrof was at a loss for words.

The old woman was right. The gauntlet was essential for protecting himself from the smallblade rabbits, and he might even need it to block the swordhorned rabbits’ charge.

If he had to keep asking for gauntlet repairs, it would only waste time and money.

“If you have the money, buy a small shield.”

“…Didn’t you say before that amateurs shouldn’t use a shield?”

When Mitrof first came to this shop and asked for a shield, he was scolded relentlessly by the old woman.

“Don’t you have a brain in your head?!—If you can get to the 10th floor, you must have enough skill to defend yourself against a smallblade rabbit!”

Enemies like kobolds and trolls use weapons. Using an unfamiliar shield to block their irregular attacks will distort your fighting style.

If you focus on the shield, your sword will be neglected. Handling a shield you don’t know how to use in a situation where your life is determined in a split second is difficult.

But with a smallblade rabbit, you can just wait with your shield. They come to you.

“A shield, huh?—Can’t we use it with the gauntlet?”

“They have the same role—there’s no point in carrying both. It’s just heavy.”

“I like this one.”

It was the equipment that had always protected his left arm as he delved into the labyrinth. He had an emotional attachment to it and trusted it with his life.

Undoubtedly, there were some attacks that a gauntlet could not completely thwart. However, Mitrof shook his head, feeling uncomfortable about switching to a shield right away.

“It’s not shameful to change your equipment according to the situation—it’s common sense for adventurers.”

The old woman spoke kindly in an attempt to persuade Mitrof.

It is true that some adventurers cling to specific weapons and armor. Betting their lives on a familiar weapon is a story that stimulates the pride of adventurers.

However, it is also true that using only one weapon or armor is a fairy tale. There are a variety of monsters living in the labyrinth.

“Changing weapons and armor according to the monsters or the environment—that’s what makes a top-class adventurer. It’s not worth getting attached to something and losing your life,” the old woman said.

Only someone who had established a business here and had seen numerous adventurers come and go could utter this word.

“…But can I handle a shield?”

There were two shield users that Mitrof knew.

One of them is a dwarf shieldbearer who fought alongside Mitrof against the red-eyed troll. The other is Canule.

Both of them have monstrous strength that makes Mitrof pale in comparison, and they use their power to repel monsters. Mitrof doesn’t feel like he can fight like them.

“You’re really good at using this gauntlet—I can see the wounds—you won’t do too badly with a small shield.”

‘What?!’ Mitrof widened his eyes. ‘This foul-mouthed old woman was complimenting me?!’

“… Are you feeling okay, owner?”

“Dumbass!”

He was smacked on the shoulder.

The old woman sighed in exasperation and shook her head.

“Anyway, it’ll take some time to repair it—I have a lot of work to do—but you can’t go without a weapon in the meantime.”

That was understandable.

They couldn’t just stop exploring until the repair was done. On the other hand, going unarmed would be too much of a burden against smallblade rabbits.

“… Then what do you recommend as a small shield?”

“Well, if you’re concerned about how to use it, why don’t you take a shield course at the guild?”