The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 78
Chapter 78: The fat aristocrat knows the answer
It wasn’t difficult to find him.
After all, his entire body was clad in magnificent silver armor. If you asked some townspeople, they would say they saw him over there or that he was spotted here. Therefore, if you walked around, you would find the knight standing in front of a food stall in the daytime market.
“Sir knight, I cannot accept silver coins!”
“It’s okay; changes are not necessary.”
“You are too modest!”
Mitrof smiled a little and approached, paying with copper coins from the side.
“Oh, it’s you—are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, thanks to you—if you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve lost weight.”
“It’s better to exercise if you want to lose weight—it’s good for your health too.”
‘That’s not what I’m talking about,’ Mitrof chuckled.
“I was looking for you.”
“Do you need something?”
“No, I came to see you off.”
He had heard from Canule that the knight would be leaving the city today. Although he was still in considerable pain and fatigue, he managed to walk around after a good night’s sleep.
The knight chuckled softly.
“It’s lonely to leave without a send-off—I’m grateful for this.”
The daytime market had a different kind of liveliness compared to the night market. Many young people and women were shopping. The narrow roads were congested around this area, mainly because people avoided the knights standing in front of the food stalls.
Mitrof called out to the knight and started walking, heading towards one of the narrow paths leading away from the market.
They stopped and faced each other. Mitrof bowed.
“…Thank you.”
“I’ve already received your gratitude earlier.”
“No, that’s not it—I was wondering if you never intended to bring Canule back from the start.”
“That’s a strange thing to say.”
“When I first met you, I used an old contract as an excuse to avoid going with you.”
“Yes, contracts are to be upheld.”
“But if you really had the intention to bring Canule back, you could have just ignored me; you could have said you’d pay a penalty for breaking the contract; you could have beaten me down; there were plenty of means available, but you didn’t consider them.”
“Hmm.”
The knight neither acknowledged nor denied it, he simply nodded. It was an unresponsive reaction, but Mitrof continued speaking without minding.
“When we talked at the night market, there was a word that bothered me.”
“What did I say?”
“If you don’t have the resolve and strength, you can’t stick to your selfishness… and you asked me, ‘Do you understand?'”
That became the trigger for Mitrof to come up with the idea of challenging him to a duel.
“It sounded like you were saying that if you have the resolve and strength, you can stick to your selfishness.”
“I see—words can have different meanings depending on how you interpret them.”
Mitrof looked up at the knight, but his expression was unreadable, just like Canule’s. Therefore, Mitrof couldn’t confirm the answer, and maybe it was just Mitrof’s wishful thinking.
If that’s the case, it’s all good.
That’s what Mitrof thought, and he even put those feelings into his question.
“You didn’t want to bring Canule back—but you couldn’t abandon your duty either—so, you wanted someone to stop you—you wanted to set aside some time to think; you instigated me, and I accepted the due—you really wanted to free Canule, didn’t you?”
There was a brief silence.
The knight chuckled.
“Do you think I intentionally lost then?”
“…Yes, I do.”
“That’s quite disrespectful to me—and to you, as well—I certainly held back, but at that moment, I was serious. I cut off your arm, and your sword reached me. It was amazing.”
Although out of place, Mitrof felt a tremble of excitement from the knight’s praise from high up above. At the same time, he became curious.
“…Cut off?—Was my arm cut off?”
“——Oops, slip my tongue.”
“Wait, cut, cut off? My arm?”
“It’s okay. It was quickly reconnected. That local priest has good hands and seems to be accustomed to connecting adventurers’ arms. Ha ha ha.”
“No, not ‘hahaha’, but my arm, you know…”
He alternated between looking at his left arm and the knight. He put pressure on it out of anxiety. It hurt, but his fingers moved without discomfort.
“That girl made me promise not to say anything—she said it’d be too much of a shock—come on, you’ll be fine, you’re a man—It’s just an arm.”
Mitrof was about to protest, but he relaxed his shoulders. ‘No, it’s okay; it’s still intact…’
The knight extended his hand towards Mitrof, who was trying to come to terms with reality. It was holding a short sword.
“What is this?”
“A meal gift from the food stall.”
“You’re very kind, too.”
Although Mitrof couldn’t appraise weapons, it was clearly not a cheap one. There was no way he could accept it.
Before Mitrof could refuse, the knight spoke up.
“——Please take care of my sister.”
“…I understand—leave it to me.”
Mitrof nodded and accepted the short sword. It was heavy, not just because of the iron.
Nodding in satisfaction, the knight then said, “Well then, I should be going now.”
In the end, Mitrof did not answer the knight’s question. He was skillfully dodged. Sighing, Mitrof then held out the bag he had been carrying on his shoulder.
“Take this with you.”
“Is this a parting gift?”
“It’s ‘amber’.”
The knight tilted his head. It was supposed to be something Mitrof would hand over if he was defeated.
“Money is power.”
Mitrof said.
“To stick to your selfishness, you need power, right?—Please give it to Canule’s father. A foolish noble child who pretends to be an adventurer in the labyrinth wants to hire Canule. If you tell him that, it should be convenient for you too. I want you to leave a place for Canule to come back to someday when she says she wants to return.”
The knight remained silent, staring at Mitrof for a while.
Eventually, he let out a sigh and took the bag from Mitrof.
“You really are an ordinary boy.”
“What do you mean all of a sudden?”
“Your sword skills are not bad, but not extraordinary; your intelligence is not necessarily sharp either; you are a rough gemstone without money, power, or status.”
“Are you trying to praise me or insult me?”
“While it may not be apparent to others, you seem to possess a ‘golden spirit’.”
‘Golden spirit’—the knight had uttered those words before.
“What is a ‘golden spirit’?”
“Well, if I were to use your words, it would be ‘willpower’.”
“…Do knights really need such ornamental language for even a single word?”
“He he he, don’t be like that—it’s better to have some decoration.”
The knight holds up a bag.
“I thank you for your consideration, and I’ll gladly take it—I should refuse, but I want it so badly.”
“Can I ask one thing? What is ‘amber’? I only know it as a euphemism for ‘sweet nectar’.”
“A euphemism?—That’s exactly what it is.”
The knight spoke with ease and without affectation.
“This is the ‘sweet nectar’ that is only mined in the labyrinth, so to speak; it’s like ‘maple syrup’.”
“Um…what?”
Mitrof opened his mouth, looking puzzled.
“Its supreme sweetness is said to be like a ladder to heaven with just one lick—the queen is particularly fond of it—now, noblewomen are making a big fuss to get their hands on ‘amber’ from all over.”
“Is it…syrup?”
“Yes. It looks like a stone, but It apparently melts when heated.”
“I see…sweet nectar, huh.”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“No, it’s fine—I also love ‘sweet nectar.'”
Mitrof took a deep breath, slowly.