The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 51
Chapter 51: The fat aristocrat gets a small shield
Looking into the face of the Gran Workshop diagonally across, the young boy noticed Mitrof right away.
“Oh, welcome back—you’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, last time I was turned away because I had nothing for you to do—I figured it was about time to have you take a look.”
The boy returned a wry smile. The irritable owner had turned away a lot of customers, just like Mitrof.
“I’ll call him over right away; please wait.”
The boy headed toward the back of the store.
As Mitrof gazed at the swords and spearheads hanging on the wall, the boy returned with a dwarf. He was the owner of Gran Workshop, a stout man with bulging muscles, wearing a small suit of armor.
“Hmm.”
Gran thrust his hand out with a terribly sullen expression. Knowing what was expected of him, Mitrof immediately handed over the rapier and sheath.
Until now, Mitrof had only met friendly merchants.
When dealing with nobles, merchants always had to be personable.
They flattered the nobles, made them feel good, and never showed any signs of dissatisfaction, no matter how difficult the problems or complaints. They were even exaggeratedly polite to Mitrof, who was just a child.
The armor shop owner, Meln, and Gran were completely different from such merchants. They were craftsmen and took pride in their work. That’s why they didn’t have to be humble, even to their customers.
Mitrof found their way of doing things fresh and interesting.
The boy who was standing beside Gran seemed to be worried and sorry as he looked at Mitrof, but Mitrof’s ignorance of the world was working in a good direction.
“It looks like you’ve put a little bit of work into it.”
Inspecting the rapier blade, Gran muttered.
“Do you remember?—I only showed it to you once.”
“Well, of course I won’t forget—there’s a big difference from a human face.”
Gran put the blade back into its sheath and handed it to the boy.
“Sharpen only the tip—the black wasp..”
Saying only that, Gran went back to the back of the shop.
Mitrof watched the man’s back as he left, then turned to face the boy holding a sword.
The boy looked somewhat troubled, eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at Mitrof.
“Um, how can I help you?—If you’re concerned, I can return it.”
“…What is the black wasp?”
“It’s a sharpening stone—they come in different colors and grits, depending on how much you want to sharpen your blade—starting from the black No. 8, they go up to the blue No. 5.”
“I see,” Mitrof nodded in understanding.
“Are you in charge of sharpening the blades?”
“Yes. I’ve been told that I’m better at sharpening steel than hammering it.”
The boy blushed on his cheeks.
Gran, who would not compromise on any work, praised his technique as good?
‘That’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?’
Mitrof groaned. Gran had entrusted him to the boy. It must mean that the boy’s skill was reliable.
“I entrust this to you—thank you.”
“Thank you very much!—I’ll do my best to meet your expectations!”
The boy bowed his head as if folding his waist, losing his balance under the weight of the thrusting sword, and stumbled, making a clattering sound.
Even though Mitrof was a little worried, he made the decision to visit the guild while it was still daytime. He wanted to learn how to use the small shield properly.
The old woman gave Mitrof a simple wooden round shield. Leather was attached to the front, and the edges were reinforced with iron. It had a belt and a handle on the back, making it easy to wear it by passing the arm through it.
Handling it with the left arm was the same as with a gauntlet, but there were significant differences between the bracer and the shield.
According to the old woman, the guild offered courses for adventurers to learn how to use weapons and armor, as well as basic knowledge.
However, even after coming to the guild, Mitrof didn’t know where those classes were taking place.
The building stood as if covering the entrance to the labyrinth that opened to the underground. It was all under the management of the Labyrinth Guild, and it was packed with facilities for adventurers.
There was a cafeteria, blacksmith, clinic, and general store. The upper floors were used as hospital rooms for injured adventurers.
It was supposed to take the form developed for adventurers to explore the labyrinth safely and efficiently, but there were clearly citizens who were not adventurers as well.
They would request quests from adventurers who were similar to Jack-of-all-trades, visit the labyrinth guild out of boredom, or come to buy monster ingredients.
Mitrof walked around inside the guild, searching for the place where he should attend a class. Along the way, he found a guild employee he recognized. It was the receptionist who always took care of Mitrof.
She also noticed Mitrof and approached him with a friendly smile.
“Mitrof-san, are you off today?”
“Do you remember my name?”
Mitrof widened his eyes. There were adventurers who came to the guild every day, so it was natural to have forgotten his name. If he had a guild card, then his name would have been recognized, but at the moment, he did not.
The receptionist pushed up her round glasses, which had slipped down her nose, and smiled shyly.
“Mitrof-san is unique—being a newcomer who defeated a red-eyed troll has gained attention in the guild.”
“I see—I want to live up to those expectations.”
If Mitrof had simply accepted the compliment, it would have been a happy statement. However, Mitrof was raised as a nobleman’s son and was not straightforward enough to take praise from others at face value.
When Mitrof casually brushed off the compliment, the receptionist gave her a look of surprise, as if she had been snubbed.
Adventurers boast about their feats. Especially if they have defeated a famous monster, they will boast about it and make it a topic of conversation. This is a privilege granted only to adventurers who risk their lives in the labyrinth, and it is also their pride.
Moreover, Mitrof is still young as an adventurer. The receptionist thought he would be happy to hear the compliment, but she seemed to have misjudged him and corrected her perception.
“Are you going to the labyrinth again today?”
“No, I want to attend a small shield training course today, but I don’t know where to ask.”
“Training course!?”
The receptionist’s mouth dropped open, and she covered it with her hand.
“…What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing. I never thought an adventurer would want to attend a training course.”
“You’re doing a course for adventurers, right?—Is it because there aren’t many participants?”
Mitrof tilted his head.
“No, no, of course we’re offering it for free and targeting adventurers—however, it’s just that…”
The receptionist looked around and lowered her voice to continue secretly.
“It’s said that many adventurers care about their reputation and are sensitive to public opinion—it seems like taking a guild course is considered embarrassing.”
Mitrof looked puzzled.
It was understandable for adventurers to care about their reputation. Everyone was risking their lives fighting monsters, relying on their own strength and techniques. It was natural to have confidence and pride and to even compete against each other.
However, Mitrof couldn’t give a damn if people made fun of him for taking a course at the guild on handling weapons.
The receptionist pondered it for a moment and searched for words to convey it to Mitrof in a simple way.
“For example, adventurers usually form parties—so let’s say, Mitrov-san is recruiting a tank to hold the enemy’s attacks with his shield. If someone applying for the position were to say, ‘I just attended a course on shield usage at the guild yesterday,’ wouldn’t they seem like a complete beginner who can’t be relied on?”
“I think he’s a serious person with a desire to improve.”
“Um, well…”
The receptionist frowned in bewilderment. She looked around as if seeking help, then pushed up her glasses and cleared her throat.
“Well, Mitrov-san is a good person, so you might think that way—however, typical adventurers tend to avoid such ‘novices.’ It is also common to add conditions, called ‘marks,’ when recruiting…Oh, ‘mark’ refers to the guild stamp that is stamped on the card of those who have reached the 10th floor underground.”
“I see,” Mitrov nodded.
There were times when Mitrof’s household would hire new servants. Most of them were inexperienced youths who could not immediately perform their duties as full-fledged members. Each noble family has its own set of rules, and the required behavior and customs vary depending on the title. Even simply walking around the mansion exposes one to sensitive information that other families shouldn’t be aware of.
Therefore, it was rare to hire someone who had worked for a long time in another household, no matter how capable they were. In the first place, such servants were not something that families parted with easily.
As a result, it was common to bring in talented and inexperienced people like a blank slate and educate them over time to fit the household’s needs.
Mitrof thought that adventurers were looking for people who could be immediately useful rather than investing in such education.
If one were to attend a beginner’s course at the guild, it would be like shouting, “I am a beginner!” for all to hear.
“So, um…it may be best to consider this carefully—in this situation, those who have taken the course tend to stand out.”
As a member of the guild staff, Mitrof felt grateful that they were concerned about him from the perspective of an adventurer. It was something that Mitrof wouldn’t have even realized if it weren’t for the receptionist’s advice.
Mitrof crossed his arms and stroked his chin. He squeezed and kneaded the fleshy skin, then came to a conclusion.
“I appreciate the advice; I understand it well; I will take the course.”
“Eh, r-really?”
“Words cannot break bones, even if people mock or make fun of me—but monsters can take lives. Right now, as an adventurer, technique is more important than pride.”
To Mitrof’s firm response, the receptionist let out a deflated “I see.” Sometimes her big eyes would narrow, and she’d give a surprisingly mature smile, saying “fufu.”
“Mitrof-san might become a successful adventurer—okay, I’ll guide you.”