The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 77
Chapter 77: The fat aristocrat snores
He was waving a branch.
Mitrof dreamed of a distant memory from long ago.
The morning after a stormy day, branches from the trees were scattered in the yard. The gardener and some of the idle servants were gathering the branches.
Mitrof found a suitable branch and picked it up.
——Mother, look at this.
Mitrof waved the branch and showed the swordsmanship form he had just learned.
——Well, Mitrof, that’s brave of you.
His mother smiled, or at least he thought she did.
Even in his dreams, Mitrof could no longer picture his mother’s face.
——I will protect you with this.
——Then you must become strong. Strength is necessary to protect others.
Someone placed his hand on Mitrof’s head as he spoke. Looking up, it was his young father, his face soft. He hadn’t seen that expression in a long time.
——I have heard that you have a talent for the sword. Keep working hard.
——Yes, Father!
Mitrof laughed at these words.
So he wields the sword.
Everything is connected to the present.
It seems that the words left behind in a distant memory have been completely forgotten.
Suddenly, his consciousness awoke.
When he opened his eyes, he was in a sickroom. The only light came from lanterns on the wall, and the room was immersed in a deep blue. The curtains hung on the window were swaying gently, pregnant with the night breeze. Outside the window, the night had already deepened, and the moon was covered by clouds.
“——Mitrof-sama, you’re awake.”
At the sound of the voice, Mitrof turned his gaze.
Canule was standing on the opposite side of the window.
“Canule, I…”
“You lost consciousness after receiving my brother’s sword—you were reckless.”
Her tone was scolding, but her voice was gentle.
“Your left arm was almost torn off.”
Canule spoke softly, saying something unusual.
“…You’re joking, right?”
“No.”
“May I see my left arm?”
“Of course.”
With fear in his heart, Mitrof slowly raised his head and looked at his left arm. It was wrapped in a bandage and covered with a cast.
“…For now, it’s still attached.”
“I asked the priest to connect it with healing magic.”
“…That must have cost a lot.”
“There’s no other way—it can’t replace Mitrof-sama’s arm.”
With a nod, Mitrof sank his head into the pillow.
He had a vague sense of something.
“I couldn’t reach it, could I?”
Looking up at the ceiling, Mitrof murmured.
Canule was too calm. His arm was almost torn off. This was a sickroom. He didn’t think he had won.
“I’m sorry, Canule.”
As Mitrof apologized, Canule placed her hand above Mitrof’s head. She wore black leather gloves that were clenched like a fist.
Visible on Mitrof’s frowning forehead, Canule opened her hand. She was holding something like a red tassel.
“There’s a message from my brother—you were excellent.”
“Huh?”
Mitrof quickly sat up and screamed in pain from his left arm.
“Mitrof-sama! The magic worked, but you need to rest for a week—does it hurt?”
It felt like a spiked iron ball was mixed in with the plaster that encased his left arm. Mitrof was holding up his upper body with his right arm while tears streamed down his face.
“I guess my left arm is complaining about the way it’s been treated… But what about it? Did my sword reach him?
Canule nodded.
“This is the tassel of my brother’s sword belt—your thrust reached him.”
The tassel was the final proof of Mitrof’s sword. The knight may have evaded it, but the sword’s tip cut the tassel that bounced with the knight’s sudden movement.
Mitrof smiled. A sense of calmness that permeated his entire body overcame him.
If you touch the knight, you win—is the tassel of the sword belt considered a part of the knight?
It’s doubtful, but the knight acknowledged his defeat. Therefore, Mitrof could accept this as his victory.
“Canule, your brother is terribly strong.”
“Yes. I have never won even once.”
“But this time, we’ve won.”
“Yes, I witnessed Mitrof-sama’s strike for sure.”
Finally, joy mixed with that voice.
Mitrof looks at Canule. His expression is hidden below the hood, which is inconvenient, but he is used to it.
“Canule, you are now free. Do as you please. If you can, explore the labyrinth with me—It would be helpful.”
“May I really do as I please?”
“Of course. There’s no one here to give orders, control you, or tell you where to live.”
“…In that case.”
Canule stood up from the chair. She takes the round shield leaning against the wall and returns to kneel before Mitrof.
The clouds covering the moon passed by, and a bright light shone through the window behind them, illuminating Mitrof’s back and Canule kneeling in front of him.
“I just want to be a shield for Mitrof-sama, as a simple Canule—my greatest wish is to see what you will do and how far you will go from the closest distance possible.”
——May I have your permission?
Canule held the round shield with both hands, like a knight’s ordination ceremony. Though there was no sword, which is a symbol of a knight, offering the shield was very fitting for Canule, making Mitrof laugh.
Mitrof received the shield with his right arm. Normally, he would tap the knight’s shoulder and congratulate her, but the shield was too heavy for Mitrof to do that.
“Sorry, I don’t look the part.” Mitrof returned the shield with a wry smile.
“——forgive me. Work hard.”
“——Yes.”
“But we are comrades and equals.”
“Understood.”
Canule nodded while still kneeling, speaking stiffly. Mitrof was unsure if it was Canule’s ingrained personality or if she simply did not want to change.
‘Well, it’s okay.’
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Mitrof conveyed his gratitude and laid down on the bed once again. As if sinking to the bottom of the water, he fell into a deep sleep.
Soon, a snoring sound echoed in the room. From Mitrof’s slightly upturned nose, a loud noise that couldn’t be described as a peaceful breath came out.
Again, clouds were obscuring the moon. Slowly, the room grew darker. Soft silver light spilled through the gaps in the clouds.
Mitrof’s snoring echoed in the room.
Beside him, a girl watched over Mitrof’s sleeping face for a long time.